#just because the 'rule' comes up SO OFTEN in those fics

[liketolaugh-writes]

On another topic altogether: what if most ghosts have casual, short answers that they usually give to people who ask how they died?

Like, a lot of fics (DPxDC in particular) have ghosts instantly losing their minds when someone asks about their death. It's not just normal rude, it's Magical Rude. But realistically, people usually have a way of dealing with frequent invasive questions. (See: amputees and people with obvious scarring.) Not to say those questions should be asked, don't fucking @ me, but they have a way of dealing with them.

So Box Ghost throws his arms up and says, "OSHA VIOLATIONS!" and then leaves.

Desiree snorts and says, "Men."

Johnny says up front, "Got in a motorcycle accident. Always wear a helmet, kid." Kitty just gestures to Johnny. They died together.

Walker explains the exact prison riot he died during, how two convicts overpowered a guard and then took over the armory. Doesn't say exactly what happened to him.

Danny, he says "It was a lab accident." (Though Danny may be more used to explaining his death in detail, since there's no way to explain what he is except exactly, in graphic detail, what happened to him.)

Ember likes to share the details. It makes people sorry they asked.

Some won't talk about it at all, of course. Lunch Lady (who starved during the Depression) doesn't. Technus (heart attack) shrugs the question off. Spectra (domestic violence) laughs in your face. Youngblood (Oregon Trail bullshit) makes things up. Vlad will actually punch you right away, but he's no shining beacon of mental stability.

But for the most part, you get one tense pass.

It's when you press for details that you're asking to get got.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨? || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ when medical supplies run out in Jackson, you volunteer to go to the mall as an alibi to get goodies for your family, only that your husband Joel isn’t pleased with your decision.

warnings_ age gap! (20s/ 50s) but not specifically stated so do what u want, protective! Joel, chill mother! reader, fluff, implied sex, smidge of angst, fallacy references. NO PROOFREAD

notes_ fallacy family is back, I missed them so much, I just re-edited the whole story, recommend reading it again although is not necessary for this fic.

✰ 𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙓 (𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚)

♪ ♫ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙋𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀

• 「 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 」 

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆸𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒

1. Wash hands and prepare the wound. ... 

2. Use your needle driver to grab the needle. ... 

3. Use the tissue forceps to expose the side of the wound you'll begin the suture on. ... 

4. Push the needle through the skin at a 90-degree angle about a centimeter to the right of the wound.

You read out loud with perfect grammatical rules, leaving perfect timing between commas and periods. It’s been a year and a half since you started teaching and a new cycle had begun by late summer. 

“Now follow the pattern I just demonstrated and I’ll pass around to see your progress” you softly indicated with a smile to your students. 

Everyone was great, you held back a new smile when you passed by Ellie’s table. She smirks at you in disguise and you give her a thumbs up to cheer her up.

Mrs. Miller is so hot, you’re so lucky to live with her….

You want to laugh so hard after hearing Ellie’s friends failing to whisper those words. 

Everyone knew you were married to the mighty Joel Miller. The town knew you were Tommy and Maria’s sister-in-law. They knew you were a great nurse and teacher. And they loved it when they heard Mrs. Miller would organize the holiday events of Jackson. 

“Okay, guys. You did great. Tomorrow we’ll keep the practice of sewing and cleaning superficial wounds. Now get out of here” They happily started leaving one by one saying goodbye to you. 

Ellie seemed to be arguing with his friend. She continuously rolled her eyes and sighed until the boy smiled at you and left. So you raised an eyebrow towards the girl and she stood up finally.

“Are you coming back home with me or are you gonna go play with your friend?” 

“Jesse is not my friend and of course, I’m going home with you. Rosalie and Rae are still coming for dinner, right?” You nod at her, giggling because of her attitude.

“You should take Jesse as your friend. He is a nice boy” Ellie only rolled her eyes once again.

“He’s annoying as well as his other friend named Dina. They are awkward and they are not as funny as Rosalie, Cerise, Joel, and you” she admits closing her backpack.

“Aww, Ellie! That’s so sweet of you…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… But let’s go, your baby must be very fussy” 

Damn, she’s right. Your little baby was a bolter, Cerise Miller was eleven months old. She had started trying to waddle and she often repeated vague words. Usually courtesy of her father; Joel loved his little angel and always talked to her.

You would never get tired of going straight to your little family after a long day.

“Would you like non-flour biscuits and steak for dinner?” Ellie nodded smiling but then frowned.

“You know I’d love to but… our rations for the week won’t be enough… Oh, and don’t you dare to ask Maria and Tommy for more, that would be very embarrassing” she said as you could only be laughing at her.

“You wouldn’t mind if I asked them, you don’t want me to do it because that would give you less right to be mean to them” 

“Maybe…” 

After closing the classroom, you and Ellie exit the little building that served as a school. It was the middle of the week and summer remained peaking as autumn was around the corner.

“Hey… Can I ask you a question?” Ellie nodded at you.

“Sure…”

“Do your classmates think that we are like… mother and daughter?” You asked with a shy tone. 

The streets were kind of busy as you and the fifteen-year-old girl started your way towards home.

“Nah… they know were like… friends or sisters? Besides… everyone knows you’re very chill” she admitted.

“I ain’t a chill person. I’m fair… that’s it”

“You’re chill, y/n. With your students, with your friends, with me, with your daughter, and even with Joel. And that drives him crazy” You smiled at the thought of your handsome husband.

A couple of weeks ago, the man came and decided to celebrate your first wedding anniversary by taking you to the same strawberry field where Cerise was born. It was romantic, then Maria arranged a little dinner for you two while she and Tommy took Cerise and Ellie for the night. That night Joel fucked you so damn good that you had to be very careful the following weeks, thinking you were pregnant once again. False alarm.

“But you shouldn’t be very chill with the other kids in class,” Ellie said.

“Why?”

“The boys are always drooling for you, especially the older ones. They keep saying you are a MILF” your eyes were wide open after she said that.

“Oh.”

“You know what that means”

“I sure do,” you said avoiding her gaze as you crossed another street.

“Can you tell me what it means?”

You’re a chill teacher, friend, mother, and wife. So you nodded at her.

“I can tell you, but I don’t to hear you saying it”

“Sure, man. I promise” Ellie sweared.

“It stands for Mom I’d Like To Fuck…” Ellie blushed immediately, making you laugh embarrassed as well.

“I told you so…” you said, finally arriving home.

You open the door of the house and the first thing you notice is Maria and Tommy’s kid there. He smiles and you lock the door before kneeling to greet him.

“Hello, kid. How are you? Have you been taking care of my angel?” You questioned the two-year-old boy with a kiss on his cheek. He could only coo and giggle.

“My little man has been a gentleman with Cerise since we arrived” Maria appeared with your daughter in her arms. She immediately asked to be in your arms and started squirming.

“Hi, little heart” you greeted her, kissing her hair that smelled like plums and sugar like her shampoo. She had the same soft hair and kind eyes as Joel. Something that always made you smile.

“What’s up, Cerise?” Ellie greeted your daughter, taking off her shoes and hanging her backpack near the entrance of the house.

“Okay, little man and I need to leave. We promised Tommy to have a movie night and they are almost back from patrol. Must get going…” Maria announced giving a quick hug and a squeeze on the hand of Cerise before saying one last goodbye and leaving with her kid.

“Hey, y/n. You never said how you got more meat for dinner?” You smirk to yourself, placing Cerise in her baby walker. It was old as hell, probably from the nineties. Joel had said it looked very similar to the baby walker Sarah had. 

“Let’s say Star and I went to have a little hunting trip” you revealed, entering the kitchen and being followed by Cerise.

“If Joel finds out, you’re dead” 

“I’m the chill wife. What can I say?” Both of you started laughing. 

“Just be careful, y/n. Please…” Ellie said, so you reassured her by squeezing her shoulder.

“Always, Ellie. For my family, always…” 

“Sudden change of subject but you know what would be awesome? A new lunchbox…” you turned to look at her backpack. It was the same backpack that traveled from the Boston QZ to Jackson. The lunch you made for her usually was a mess after a couple of hours.

“I’ll see what I can do to get you a new one. I also need new clothes for Cerise, farting isn’t enough to deflate her, she keeps growing” Ellie started laughing.

“Mind you, she’s your daughter, y/n”

“So? She’s my little heart but she’s still a stinky furball at times” you said kneeling to kiss and annoy Cerise, who cooed and screamed in happiness.

-

When Joel arrived home the sun had almost disappeared completely. He opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Ellie and you chasing Cerise, who was still on her baby walker, cooing loudly. 

A big smile was planted on his face.

“Joel… Is that you, honey?” You asked, sounding agitated.

“Yes, dear.” You appear in his line of vision, wearing a pink sundress and bare feet.

He greets you in his arms, giving you a big kiss.

“Mmm… I missed you” you admitted.

“We made love this morning, y/n”

“So? We can be apart half an hour and I’ll miss you like I haven’t seen you in a year” he chuckled, kissing you once again. Only to be interrupted by something colliding at his feet.

Both of you look down, encountering Cerise, who has a toothy smile.

“Da-da… dad!” Joel immediately picked her up. Ellie came to the scene too, drinking from a glass of water and spreading some hair away from her face, only to greet Joel and then disappear upstairs.

“Hello, angel” It was a rare day when Joel didn't wake up questioning if he wasn’t dreaming. Even a year after coming back from Salt Lake City with Ellie and you, he couldn’t believe his new life. Where he lived near Tommy, he was married again, now working, unlike the first time. His wife was a young woman and gave him a daughter. 

“Rosalie and Rae got caught up with work so they won’t join us for dinner. But they’re coming tomorrow with Tommy and Maria” Your husband nodded at you, playing with Cerise as she fought to grab Joel’s beard, which tickled her but couldn’t stop doing so.

“Oh, that’s terrible” his sarcastic tone was evident, which made you smile.

“What? Darlin’ you know I only want to be with my girls” Before he could hug you from behind, he placed Cerise on the carpet of the living room.

“Go take a shower and tell Ellie to come down, Texas” Your playful smile resulted contagious to him, so he got closer to kiss your cheek and spank your ass before leaving upstairs too.

-

Just by the time your family and you finished dinner, Cerise was already upstairs sleeping with Ellie. You and Joel were cleaning up the dishes as you listened to an old cassette player and said bad jokes.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door and both of you exchanged looks.

“I’ll take it…” you said.

When you open the door, you see Rosalie standing.

“Rosalie… What happened?” 

“We need you in the clinic. One of the technicians had an accident and needs a little surgery” you gasped, feeling Joel coming to the door to slide a hand in your waist as he heard Rosalie.

“That’s why the power went out for some seconds?” Joel asked and Rosalie nodded.

“Yup… please, y/n” you nodded.

“Let me get my hoodie. Joel, Can you stay and check on the girls?” 

“Sure, go on, darlin’…” 

After another big kiss, you hurry along with Rosalie to get to the clinic.

-

“He is going to be fine, just one broken finger. There’s just one problem, we don’t have any cast…” Maria and one of the council members sigh, looking at each other. Jeremy was a thirty-four-year-old male technician who fell while trying to fix some wires. He had a little concussion and you stitched two of his fingers that were slightly burnt. His broken finger was the issue until you remembered the mall near Jackson. 

“Maybe we have some materials to improvise a cast…”

“Or I can make a quick trip to the mall and get some supplies.” 

“Maybe it’s not the best idea, y/n…”

“You know it’s mostly clear, perhaps one or two infected but it’s okay. Besides… I’ve proven to be trustworthy to go…” you had done some patrols along with Tommy and Joel, and they didn’t have any complaints about you. 

“I guess not… Have you been inside the mall before?” 

“Yes…” you lied.

The truth is you wanted to go alone to take your time. You had gone to the little abandoned market before, but the mall was different. While your priority was the medical supplies, you also had other interests. You wanted to get Ellie a new lunchbox, clothing for Cerise, and some flannels for Joel.

“Alright. Joel is going with you” Maria said and you nodded but maybe you wouldn’t let him know. He’d lock you before letting you go to the mall alone.

“Hey… Is it too late for a haircut?” You asked her.

“Nah… let’s go.”

-

The following morning, you leave a note for Ellie telling her the truth. And for Joel, a note that said you were going back to the clinic and then to school, that he take care of Cerise, and that you loved him so much.

After a quick breakfast, you ended up at the stables, saddling up Star.

“Goin’ somewhere, darlin’…?” Startled you don’t dare to turn back, but you know it’s your husband.

Shit, he’s gonna fuck me… and not like I’d want to.

“Oh hi, honey”

“Don’t bullshit me with that. Were you planning on tellin’ me you’re going to the mall alone?”

“You would’ve said no and we would’ve argued…”

“I’m coming with you. Now quit talkin’ 'cause I’m not very happy with you right now” he said, going for his horse.

Once you are ready to go, Joel finally faces you.

“You changed your hair…” you looked different, still gorgeous to his eyes.

“Yeah... Maria helped me out yesterday after the clinic incident. You like it?…”

“I love it, baby.” He had you blushing like a teenager and you hadn’t even left Jackson yet.

“Thanks, Joel” he smiled, knowing he couldn’t be mad at you any longer.

“Oh what the hell, come ‘ere, gorgeous.” You get close and he leans to passionately kiss you.

“I have the hottest wife, you know?” Pushing him gently, you start going back towards Star, avoiding his eyes with a giant smile.

“And I have the hottest husband, you know?” 

“Deaf with a demolished back but I’m your old man,” he said, hugging you from behind, letting you he was half hard while feeling his cock against your ass.

“You got hard with my new haircut?”

“Course’ I would, darlin’. Can’t wait to see those little bangs against your forehead when I get you riding me” You sure reached a new level of embarrassment at that moment. And you thanked the stables were clear of humans.

“OKAY-… where did you leave my daughter, Texas?”

“Our daughter is with Tommy, California Dreamin’…”

“Good. Let’s go then…” you said smiling, finally leaving the town.

-

The mall was definitely not what you expected.

“So people used to come here to eat, shop, and just hang out in general?” Joel nodded, cautiously holding a flashlight with one hand and his rifle with the other.

“That’s right, love” 

“This reminds me of the library you took me back in Boston” Joel sighed.

He remembered the man he was back then. Still grieving his past, being cold and mean towards the woman he saved. You were a broken and weak woman. And yet, you always smiled at him.

Your birthday was coming and Joel was tired of your intellectual talks, so he took you to pick some books. Now he understands he did that because deep down he already loved you back then.

He could also see you had bloomed into a new woman, and he couldn’t help but feel like he had fallen in love again. 

“I was an asshole towards you.” He admitted walking through the mall.

“You were. But neither of us gave up on each other. And look at us now….” you optimistically said.

“We have a house, we have jobs, two kids and we’re having a date in a scary abandoned mall” Joel chuckled.

“This ain’t a date, baby”

“It is, shut up, Joel,” you said.

Since the priority was the medical supplies, that’s where you headed first. Then, you dragged Joel to get Ellie’s lunchbox, the only one available was one of Wonder Woman so you took it. Then, thankfully, you found a baby store.

“Oh my god! Look at these, Joel! She’s gonna look so fucking adorable!” You said showing him a pair of cowgirl boots.

“She could match you. Since you really love your boots, baby” Joel teased, crossing his arms, allowing himself to relax just a tiny bit. He knew you loved your brown boots, you wore them the whole year. With jeans, skirts, dresses, everything.

“Okay, just the boots and this adorable set of seasonal pajamas” One set was purple with orange and corn candies for Halloween, the other had pumpkins and pies, the other one of hearts, and a last one of snowflakes, cookies, and Christmas trees.

“Have you seen how Cerise is starting to bite everything?” 

“Her teeth must be coming soon…” Joel confirmed, taking your hand to lead you out of the store.

Besides the baby store, there was a place full of underwear, perfumes, and feminine stuff.

“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”

“Lingerie and womanly stuff store” you nod, getting a closer look. Some pretty sets had you imagining modeling them for your husband.

“And what was her secret?”

“Oh c’mon, baby, let’s keep going.” He said gently pushing you.

“Wait. Don’t you want to fuck me in one of those sets?” Joel blushed and acted like he was debating whether to agree with you or not. But both of you knew the real answer.

“Your silence says it all, Joel.” And with that, you entered the store.

It was completely stocked and seemed like nobody had come in hopes of scavenging something.

“This is so pretty…” you say grabbing a black bra. Joel could only follow you like a lost puppy.

“Joel… pink or purple?” He looked at the two options and pointed at one.

“Pink…” 

“Naughty boy…” you said smirking and he rolled his eyes.

“I like this one…” Joel showed you, it was a seen-through tulle nightgown in maroon and lilac tones.

“Then we’re taking it home with us too” You finally start packing all of your favorite ones and you notice there's still some available space in your backpack.

You load your gun before nodding at Joel, letting him know you are ready.

“Where is your bow?” He asked.

“Left it at home…” you had gotten very good using the bow and arrows and with Joel teaching you how to skin animals, you often went on solo hunts. Not that he knew that.

Suddenly both of you grow quiet after hearing something shatter and then crashing nearby.

Joel indicated you to keep quiet while peaking through the entrance of the store.

A clicker passed by and you had to hold a big scream by covering your mouth. Since those things were blind, you were safe for a moment.

“Stay behind me…when I tell you to run… we run, y/n. Understood?” He whispered inches away from you.

“Joel… “ you whispered back when you saw the clicker entering the store. He protectively stood in front of you and pointed at the infected in case of anything. You also gripped the trigger of your weapon.

The disgusting sound of click click click was driving you insane. But you and Joel were so close to the exit that neither of you noticed the frame of a poster on the floor, so when Joel tripped over, the clicker immediately reacted, jumping towards the sound, and ending on top of Joel.

“JOEL!” 

One bad aim and you could kill Joel, so you have to act quick and smartly. The clicker moved extremely fast while your husband tried to push him away. 

“Run, y/n!” you wouldn’t leave your husband alone. Never… 

With zero patience and lots of faith, you shot twice, and to your luck, both bullets went straight to the clicker’s head. The dead body of the creature was lying beside your husband. So you ran to help him.

“Are you okay? No bites, right?” Joel hurried to calm you, leading you outside of the store, finally.

“No bites, baby. I’m okay” You nodded, sighing in relief.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here” you added, hearing the distant sounds of more clickers approaching, probably from the second floor that was actually below where you had been collecting stuff.

-

The way back home is slightly quieter. Joel knows you were still a little taken aback by the incident back at the mall. So as the two of you were still riding your horses, he turned to see you.

He adored his wife so much.

“You were amazin’ back there, baby” 

“What?”

“Yeah, the way you perfectly pulled the trigger and killed the clicker. Your hand never shakin’…” you smiled briefly.

“I just wished you were… immune too. It would be a little less stressful” Joel sighed.

“Hey, I’m not immune but I’m perfectly capable of coming back to you. I’ve done this for more than twenty years. And for you and the girls… I’d do it forever” 

“Aww, honey. I love you so much!” 

He is in love. He can’t recognize the woman you have become. You are stronger, funnier, and more vivid if that was even possible. And he knows you can’t recognize the man he transformed into. A man who treated you with adoration. Who wasn’t afraid of showing how much he loved you. 

“You know? You were my savior once but now… you are the reason why I will save myself every time. To come back to you and the girls too…” 

“I love you too, y/n. So fucking much, baby”

“I know…” you said cheekily, smiling at him.

It was then that a sudden memory came to you, making you giggle.

“Hey Joel… Want to know what Ellie’s classmates call me?” Joel frowns confused but then nods.

“Sure?…”

“They say I’m a MILF” Joel couldn’t help but laugh hard, on the verge of tears.

“Well, you are, darlin’… But that’s a pleasure I will be the only one to have” you blushed.

“Of course, I would not risk my life at Victoria’s Secret for any other man than you, Joel” he remembered the sets you got and he could feel himself getting hard again.

“Fuck… I miss Cerise and Ellie but I really want to get back to having you in bed with all those sets you borrowed” 

“Fine, but you clean the dishes and kitchen today” he nods, smiling cockily at you.

“Sure, now let’s get going, Mom I’d like to fuck…”

“JOEL!” He loved teasing you and seeing you get all flustered. 

______________________________________

[skyefeys]

A Comprehensive Guide to Writing Gina Dialogue!!!

Do YOU like writing tgaa fics, but find yourself struggling to understand the speech habits of Gina Lestrade? Well, fortunately for you, I love linguistics and accents almost as much as I love Gina - so I've compiled a breakdown of every quirk in her speech!

(Full analysis under the break!)

Most of Gina's speech patterns can be broken down by three fundamental facts:

She speaks with a thick Cockney accent

She's uneducated, which leads to various grammar troubles

She uses a lot of informal cockney terms/slang

Let's get into it section-by-section!

(Note: Formatting looks a lot better on mobile!)

Section 1: Cockney Accent

So I’m an theater kid, and I've done dialect training for Cockney accents before - it's one of my best ones imo - so that certainly helped me write this section! Even without that, though, it's pretty easy to identify how her accent appears in her speech. Let's break it down!

Drop h's

Example: Here becomes 'ere

Drop g’s at the end of words

Example: Going becomes goin'

A few other word ends that get dropped:

Of becomes o'

And becomes an'

Th changes depending on the word - Thank you to annoyingloudmicrowavecultist for properly explaining how this works in the tags!

Voiced th becomes v

Example: With becomes wiv

Unvoiced th becomes f

Example: Nothing becomes nuffin'

For writing purposes, if a word would become unrecognizable with this change, it's left the same (but in actual speech, it would be pronounced differently)

Example: Father remains as father (but would be pronounced like fovva)

Th always remains intact at the start of words

Example: Thing remains as thing (but would be pronounced like fing)

Miscellaneous word changes

Something becomes summat (but other times is just somefin' - she's not consistent with either)

What becomes wot, whatever becomes wotever

Tomorrow becomes tomorra

Because is often shortened to 'cause, which becomes cos

Isn't almost always becomes ain't

Thank you / no thank you becomes ta / no ta

Some words spill together or are slurred

With that becomes wivvat, with it becomes wivvit (This one isn't actually used in-game, so you don't have to use it either, but it reflects how she'd actually be pronouncing it)

Isn't it becomes innit

Doesn't it becomes dunnit

Suppose becomes s'pose

Don't know becomes dunno

Probably becomes prob'ly

You might change - Another loose/inconsistent rule. Can depend on how the sentence would be pronounced out loud, but mostly is just a vibe

You becomes ya

Your/you're becomes yer

Yourself becomes yerself

Section 2: Grammatical Errors

Gina is an uneducated East End orphan, so it should come as no surprise that she makes mistakes here and there. Here are her consistent ones! Some of these are confusing/hard to explain, so I included specific examples.

Will say me instead of my, and meself instead of myself

Example: "I dunno much about guns meself."

Incorrect tense usage of was/were in negatives - Instead of I/it wasn’t, she’ll say I/it weren’t

Example: "I was up in a balloon, weren't I?"

Incorrect tense usage of does/do in negatives - Instead of he doesn’t, she’ll say he don’t

Example: "Somefin' wot 'e don't want people readin'."

Double negatives

Ever becomes never in negative statements

Example: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Never + anything becomes never + nothing

Example: "I never done nuffin' o' the sort!"

Never + anyone becomes never + no one

Example: "All me life, growin' up in the slums, I've never trusted no one."

Haven't you ever becomes ain't you never

Example: "Ain't you lot never gone over an 'ouse lookin' for dough when the owners are out o' town?"

The word that or who in the context of ascribing a feature to a subject is replaced by the word what

Example: "She's always goin' on about all them cases wot Sholmes is lookin' into."

Other example: "I think I wouldn't fancy me chances wiv a lawyer wot lives in a place like this."

Will say them instead of those

"All them skylights open, dead easy."

Will say no more instead of anymore

"Ya dropped it, so it ain't yours no more."

She’ll sometimes mess up bigger, unfamiliar words. This one's entirely in your discretion what words she might mess up. Some canon examples:

“Supperment” instead of supplement

“Mantlescript” instead of manuscript

On a similar note, she'll sometimes confidently get sayings wrong and think she sounds smart

“Toby's...'ow did they put it...? ...Oh, yeah! A 'bone-fide' detective!”

Section 3: Cockney Terms/Slang

In addition to her thick dialect, growing up in the East End means Gina has also adopted a plethora of unique words and phrases. This'll be more like a vocab section!

Cockney rhyming slang - Some words are replaced with phrases that rhyme with them. She uses a few in canon:

Instead of believe, she’ll say Adam an’ Eve

“Would you Adam an' Eve it, eh?! Wot a mug!”

Instead of face, she’ll say chevy chase

“Yeah, I can see it written all over yer chevy chase!”

Interjections/Exclamations

Blimey - Express surprise or shock

"Blimey, yer right! That streak o' light in the photo looks just like an arrow, dunnit?"

Cor - A general interjection, kind of a euphemism for god

"Cor, listen to you! Ya stumble across a bit o' balloon an' suddenly yer the best investigator in the world!"

Oi - I doubt I need to define this one, but it's basically the equivalent of "hey"

"Oi! That's off limits up there!"

Words for people

Cove, bloke - A boy or man. Gina tends to use cove more often than bloke.

"That's where the cove ended up after 'is 'instant kinesis' or wotever they call it."

"When I lifted the last bloke's purse, 'e got wise to me."

Dandy - A conceited, fashionable upperclass man. Can be used as a noun or adjective.

In reference to Ashley Graydon: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Dee - Thank you to uzukirie for figuring this out in the replies of this post - dee is short for detective!

To Sholmes: "I don't need no 'elp from some stuck-up dee!"

About Gregson: "Yeah, the dee let me keep it. After I looked daggers at 'im for long enough."

Swell - A wealthy or elegant person. In canon, Gina uses this exclusively in reference to McGilded.

"It's because o' that, this swell found me. …'E did 'elp me get away, mind."

Miscellaneous vocab

Dodgy - Suspicious

"It was amazin' when you showed that dodgy professor's dodgy experiment was a total fix!"

Rum - Odd or strange

"I mean, wot's the point of spendin' a joey to make a few bob, eh? That's a rum idea, innit?"

Coppers - Cops

"If you do wot the grown-ups tell ya, it'll get yer mates dragged off by the coppers. Or worse."

Scarper - Flee/run away/leave in a hurry. Also comes from rhyming slang - Scarper = Scapa Flow = Go

"If I did that, 'e said 'e'd let me scarper before the coppers showed up."

Have a butcher's - Take a look. Also comes from rhyming slang - "butcher's hook" = look

"Most days I push the cushion up wiv me 'ead an' look out the crack. Then I can 'ave a butcher's at who I'm gonna fiddle."

Rude words/phrases :)

Gordon Bennett - Expresses surprise or contempt - kind of a euphemism for goddammit.

"Gordon Bennett! You lot!"

Flamin', bleedin', - General emphasis. Pretty much just gentler ways of saying fucking.

Note!! You might be tempted to make Gina say "bloody", since that's well-known British slang, but she never says that. She says bleedin' in its place.

"Don't be so flamin' rude, 'Oddo!"

"It's lies every bleedin' place ya look in this world, innit?"

Bleedin’ Nora - A variation of "Bloody Norah", a surprised/irritated interjection.

"Wot the bleedin' Nora, 'Oddo?! Wot 'ave you gone an' done?!"

Bogtrotter - A derogatory term for an Irish person. She uses this to refer to McGilded.

"Look at the mess it's got you into, believin' in that bogtrotter!"

Mug - An idiot.

"You can't do it from inside, you mug."

Blue blazes - An alliterative exaggeration of "blazes". A euphemism for hell.

"Where the blue blazes 'ave you been, eh?"

Cobblers - Rubbish/nonsense. Literally, it means testicles - derived from Cockney rhyming slang, where "cobbler's awls" = balls.

"All this nonsense about the boss plannin' to kill people… It's cobblers!"

And 1.2k words later, that's pretty much it! Now you can write Gina dialogue spot on <3

Feel free to suggest anything I'm missing/got wrong - I come back and edit this for accuracy's sake every time I notice something I left out, or when people in the replies/tags point things out!

[booksandabeer]

Celebrating 10 Years of CA:TWS — A Stucky Rec List

Rec list for the CA:TWS 10th Anniversary Event @catws-anniversary (thank you so much for organizing this event! 💙) | Prompt: Memories

10 years, huh? 10 years of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 10 years of what many—myself included—still consider to be the best MCU movie ever made.

But also 10 years of post-TWS fanfiction. 10 years of Bucky Barnes Recovering and Steve Rogers' Sadness Errands; of Up All Night to Get Bucky and Revenge Road Trips; of Winter Soldier Trauma Umbrellas and Everybody Needing A Goddamn Hug; of Good Bros and Soft Epilogues. 10 years and tens of thousands of Steve/Bucky fics later, here we are.

So, to mark the occasion, let's take a trip down memory lane and celebrate the movie and the stories it inspired: One fic from each year since it all began:

There's really only one rule here: All fics are set before, during, or after the events of CA:TWS and/or reimagine its plot in interesting ways. Naturally, many of the fics on this list are post-TWS canon divergent, but I tried to go for a nice variety of length, genre, and popularity to keep it interesting. Speaking of popularity, this is very much not intended as a round-up of ‘most popular fics of each year’ because—and I say this with all the love and respect in my heart for those stories and their authors—nobody needs a rec list for that, and I believe in spreading the love. Here we go:

Poltergeists by enemyofrome | 17K, T

Author's summary: When the helicarriers blow up and the Winter Soldier goes on the run, he takes Steve with him. He's got a name written in Morse code on the inside of his arm, a ton of questions he doesn't know how to ask, and now, a new handler with absolutely zero sense of self-preservation to contend with. Life is hard. In which Bucky tries to figure out whether he's a human being, Steve does everything he can to keep from losing him again, and there are lots of explosions.

Starting off with one of the best versions of the 'Bucky didn't leave Steve, he took him with him after the Potomac' fics that were (and still are!) so popular post-TWS. This one stands out because of its fantastic beginning, its interesting take on how Bucky was broken and remade into the Winter Soldier, and because it allows both characters to be messy. It's a popular fanon trope that it's Steve who brings out a ruthless, almost vicious streak in Bucky, but here it's emphasized that this is very much a mutual thing. Just like Bucky, who's often afforded the "excuse" of still figuring out how to be a person again, Steve gets to be difficult here—without ever turning him into a stubborn asshole. They're both traumatized, and they're both allowed to show it and to lash out, including at each other. Also, this fic will give you capital-F Feelings about morse codes and apples. Believe me.

sleepwalk back to the battle site by ftmsteverogers | 22K, T

Author's summary: “I’m going to track down every HYDRA agent that’s left,” Bucky says, buckling his gun deftly to his belt. “And then I’m going to kill them.” “Oh,” Steve says. “Come with me?” Bucky asks, dangerous hands tucked into his pockets.

A classic post-TWS fic that picks up right after the movie ends. Equal parts Revenge Roadtrip, Bucky Barnes recovering, and Steve Rogers being in urgent need of a good hug. This starts out intensely melancholic—Steve's despair and helplessness are palpable and there's a scene involving a drinking glass that still brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Halfway through, the story changes pace and becomes much more action-heavy, but it still manages to allow space for the quiet, intimate moments between Steve and Bucky. They have both become sharp and deadly men, but they're also allowed to be soft with each other. Their coming together feels sweet and inevitable. I also really enjoyed the Steve characterization here. His absolute conviction that Bucky is still Bucky at his very core and always will be, but also his emotional and intellectual flexibility to adapt to this still-new-to-him, changed version of Bucky rang very true to me.   

Surveillance by Sproings, 7K in 2 parts, G

Author's summary: If there are ears everywhere, that means it's somebody's job to listen. I hate my job.

Do you ever think about how SHIELD bugged Steves DC apartment and how horrible that was, but also...you're kind of curious what they might have overheard? Do you ever wonder about the people who listened in on his sad, lonely life? Well, here you go. An outsider POV fic told "through the ears" of an unnamed SHIELD agent assigned to spy on the private life of a man who doesn't really have much of one. The story begins just before IM3 and takes us all the way through the events of CA:TWS and beyond. It's clever, original and told with great empathy for both the subject under surveillance and the person carrying out that surveillance—who increasingly questions its purpose. Here's a small snippet to give you an idea of the fic's style:

He got a phone call, once. He put it on speaker, too, which was very exciting for me at the time. It was from an archivist at the Smithsonian. They seemed really surprised that he answered his own phone calls. The two of them talked for a long time about an exhibit the museum was planning. A very long time. As if one of them was starstruck, and the other was desperate for any kind of human interaction.

What Gets You Through by velleities | 12K, M

Author's summary: For Steve, getting through each day is a process – one he’s currently failing at spectacularly. Feeling out of place in this brave new world, he hopes to find a home in Bucky, and looks for him with everything he’s got. But Bucky doesn’t want to be found, and when he does touch base with Steve, he never sticks around for long. Bucky has embraced the modern age, leaving Steve lagging behind – or so Steve believes, until Bucky shows him otherwise.

This post-TWS fic revolves around five encounters in liminal spaces, and each time Bucky has pieced himself back together again just a little more. Despite their increasingly longer and more honest conversations, and Bucky's incremental progress, he always disappears again, leaving Steve to grapple with his heartbreak. There are quietly gorgeous moments in this fic (the bus and the church in particular were my personal favorites) as well as wonderfully crafted characterizations. Bucky is initially portrayed as somewhat feral in some ways yet surprisingly well-adjusted in others, and I love that Steve can't help but be a little annoyed at that. However, it quickly becomes clear that, in good old Bucky Barnes fashion, much of it is really just a front put up for Steve's benefit...

A Real Boy by itsnotbleak | 5K, T

Author's summary: It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat. It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

A wonderful, short-but-doesn't-feel-like-it fic (in the very best way) set immediately after CA:TWS, in which Bucky secretly and then soon not so secretly visits Steve in his apartment. Follow along as Bucky Barnes argues with his brain about sandwich toppings, the importance of a good night's sleep, and the necessity of personal hygiene. Also: how to best go about becoming a real boy (again). And who the hell is that Bucky guy anway? This is as soft and sweet a Bucky recovery fic as you're ever going to find. It's funny but not silly; sad in a way that all of these stories inherently are—because, well, these are some tragic boys—but not super angsty or depressing. A beautiful story with a lovely, hopeful ending.

Savage God by PottersPink | 36K, M

Author's summary (abbr.): Past, present, future, Steve knows Bucky Barnes. It’s why he recognized him when he found him in that alley in April of 1942, even though Bucky was older, stronger, wearier; he called himself The Asset, and had a metal fucking arm. He flinched when Steve tried to touch him, and when Steve told him he loved him, his first response was to ask why. Seventy years later, Steve wakes up in the twenty-first century, and he doesn’t know whether to be heartbroken or hopeful when some of the things Bucky revealed to him in 1942 start falling into place.

An absolutely riveting AU that will have you on the edge of your seat the whole time. I'm itching to talk about it more but I cannot since it would mean spoiling the hell out of it. What I can say is that it's a very intriguing and clever exploration of what would happen if Steve knew about the future but without really knowing any of the details. How would it change the events of CA:TFA and CA:TWS, and how would it change Steve himself? I so very much appreciate this characterization of Steve as smart, competent, and unwavering with a hefty dose of no fucks left to give. This fic features some really nifty time travel and plotting, great action sequences and a very satisfying ending where certain people get their much-deserved comeuppance. Plus: Bonus Shrinkyclinks (kind of)!

Charlie Lock by seapigeon | 105K, M (hard M)

Author's summary (abbr.): The Winter Soldier knows that sometimes, in order to make the kill, you must destroy what the Target lives for. Steve Rogers knows that he can't fight his captors. If he fights, they'll kill Bucky. But the price of his life is steep. Tony Stark has nothing left to live for, but he's needed. So all these miserable motherfuckers better stay alive, too. Clint Barton never expected to be a leader. But a leader he is, and no one else is going to die on his watch. --- A story in which the first wave of Project Insight succeeds, and the Avengers must pick up the pieces and find a way to stop Hydra from completing its work with Zola's algorithm.

This is not only the longest fic on this list, but also the angstiest one—by a mile, so please heed the tags. It's dark, disturbing, and brutal. However, it is neither relentless misery porn nor is it shocking for shock's sake, where everything is magically forgotten and/or healed the moment Steve and Bucky start kissing. Instead, the author puts these characters into an absolutely horrifying situation and then slowly, gently guides them out of it and into the light.

It's a Stucky fic but it's also a multi-POV ensemble piece featuring all the Avengers and other familiar faces. If you are someone who'll always be a little bitter about the unfulfilled promise of an Avengers found family, then this is for you. In this AU, they do not only fight together, but grow together in every way. They truly become a team, not just co-workers barely tolerating each other. The story takes its time exploring the characters and the group dynamics. Steve and Bucky are definitely at the center of the narrative but there is space here for every member of the team to grieve and adjust to the new reality and to find at least some measure of healing. It's a story about the meaning and the consequences of revenge, about hope and resilience, and about love in all its many forms. It also has one of the most satisfying title drops that will have you pump your fist in triumph when it happens. It's a tough read, but ultimately a very rewarding one.

SPELEVINK by Ginny_Potter | 10K, G

Author's summary: Bucky’s back. He’s leaving me messages through IKEA plushies, Steve texts Sam. jesus christ, rogers, Sam texts back. Or, Bucky lives in an IKEA Tiny Apartment, Steve is a dancing monkey once again, and somehow they find their way back to each other.

This is an absolute DELIGHT of a fic that will have you alternately laughing out loud and crying quietly into your SVARTFIBBLA blanket (super-soft, recycled polyester, 47x63"). It's ‘crack treated seriously’ at its very best and a clear homage to the fandom classic Infinite Coffee… (that’s not a dig or a spoiler, the author says so in the author’s note).

Now if you know me, you’ll know that angst o’clock is my happy hour and I’m usually not very into these heavy-on the-humor quasi-absurdist fics (because I’m super special and not like all the other girls, obviously). But. I LOVED this story so, so much. It’s such a fun read—even when it makes you cry—and it really became one of those ‘huh, I guess I’m into this after all’ moments of joyful (self)discovery via fanfic for me. I never thought a pair of oven mitts could move me like that, and I'll never be able to walk into an IKEA again without muttering "F******!" under my breath (iykyk). Absolutely fantastic.

a handful of dust by RecoveringTheSatellites | 20K, M

Author's summary: Steve looks for Bucky for a long time. But the thing is that Bucky doesn't get found, Bucky finds. Bucky always finds Steve. This takes a hard left after the Potomac and stumbles through the dark a lot after. Take a bit of running, the occasional synaptic misfire, the resurfacing of old memories, a dash or two of PTSD, and (eventually) a nice dose of action, stir, and serve over some unresolved issues.

Honestly, the second paragraph up there perfectly sums up the story. It's a good ol' fashioned Bucky recovery fic with some angst, some action, and a whole lot of healing and devotion. Steve and Bucky get to be very sappy about each other, but also extremely Badass Battle Boyfriends™ when somebody threatens their hard-won happiness. Both are allowed to be messy, unstable, and very co-dependent.

This was the first time this author played in the Stucky sandbox and I mean it 100% as a compliment when I say that you can tell. This is someone with "fresh legs" diving headfirst and very deep into the Stucky trope pool and they're doing it with great relish and enthusiam. The result is a story that rejects some of the tried and true conventions of the post-TWS fanfic canon and lovingly embraces others, but that is definitely aware of and in dialogue with the body of work that came before it. Also, it's just a really fun read that gives these two the very soft ending they deserve.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead by pollutedstar | 22K, M

Author's summary: In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

A really interesting AU and a fascinating exploration of what could’ve been; the impact it would’ve had on the events and characters if Bucky had been the one to be “found” first. How would it affect Steve to come back into a world where he isn’t quite so lonely and adrift, and where he does have the relief and reassurance of having Bucky by his side and at his back? How would that have changed the way he acted and reacted to this strange new world and the people and organizations trying to recruit him to their cause even though the ice hasn't even completely melted off his body yet?

There are a lot of astute and precise observations about characters like Tony, Natasha, and Clint in this story, and on top of that, it offers up some very compelling insights into Steve's conflicted and difficult relationship with his role as Captain America.

it's never over (hey orpheus) by romcommie | 12K WIP, 2/?, M

Author's summary: He remembers a song first and then everything else follows, burying him below. Or, Bucky Barnes pieces a life back together with a few choice verses, some duct tape and seventy years worth of spite. Steve Rogers tries very hard to relearn there's a life to be lived in the first place.

Ok, listen up, people! This is a WIP and there are only 2 chapters posted so far, but I haven't felt this absolutely bonkers excited about a post-CA:TWS fic in a long while. We're talking frothing at the mouth here. I have such a massive crush on this fic, it's a bit embarrassing, really. It's one of those fics where you know after just a few paragraphs that you're in very good, very competent hands. The wealth of historical and cultural detail; the way the story shifts/flips/flickers back and forth between time, perspective and narrative levels; the Bucky voice—it's all so well done! I'm so insanely excited to see where the author takes this!

ENJOY!

[deakyjoe]

Absolution

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader (afab, fem)

Category: smut, sex pollen

Summary: Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), sex pollen, slight dubcon (because of sex pollen but all consensual), unprotected p in v sex, master kink, slight sub!obi-wan, slight dom!reader, reader talks obi-wan through it basically, suggestions of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, virgin!obi-wan, religious guilt, hints of reader’s past feelings, reader kind of ignores some Jedi rules, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of talks of fluids I feel, slight angst I guess, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Happy Star Wars Day! Wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year so thought I’d keep up the tradition this year as well. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not the best smut, but I did end up rushing it a little to get it posted today so… sorry! This is for @lightwxlker who I told about this over lunch at uni <3 (feel free to read but please never look me in the eye again if you do). Can’t wait to see you later to see The Phantom Menace!!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Absolution:

(Noun)

Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

Declaration that a person’s sins have been forgiven.

It felt like you'd been trekking through the dense forest for days. Really, it had only been a few hours. But with no end in sight, and Obi-Wan's continuous promise of almost there, you were convinced that the two of you had been lost for about a week.

The Jedi had told you that you were in search of a hidden community that had answers to some questions that the Council had about... something. You didn't know. You rarely paid attention when Obi-Wan explained these things. As much as you respected him, these briefings started to sound the same after a while. It was the thing he reprimanded you for most often.

"Can we-" You wheezed. "Can we stop for just a minute?"

"Soon." He called over his shoulder simply, pushing aside a leafy branch for the both of you to pass through.

You considered pushing him over, tripping him up maybe, and even just stabbing him with your lightsaber. Just to have a break for a moment. It was unclear how he managed to walk through dense forest for hours on end without even a hint of fatigue peeking through. You envied him for it.

Luckily, your prayers were answered when a clearing appeared. It was small, sheltered by the canopy of trees above you, but it was a good place to stop. You didn't even have to say the word, Obi-Wan already knew what you wanted.

"Fine, rest here for a moment." He sighed, pointing at a rock.

You collapsed quickly, thankful for the brief reprieve, and watched as the Jedi made a slow circle around the clearing. He was inspecting every little thing there was to see. If there was one thing you had in common with the man, it was your curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

"Rather fascinating." He mumbled to himself, ignoring the burning of your stare on his back as he moved, poking at a fungus of some kind with the tip of his finger.

"Be careful. It might be poisonous." You warned, stretching out your legs in front of you.

"I know my living organisms." He replied steadily, pulling up and moving on to the next one.

It was a flower. Rather large, with pinkish petals and an indigo centre extending on from a bright green stem. It looked vaguely familiar to you. You racked your brain, thinking about the botany books you'd spent your spare time reading when Obi-Wan had insisted that you should know more about the planets you were constantly visiting.

Nothing was coming to you. Maybe you hadn't seen it in one of those books. Your head tilted as you watched the Jedi stroke gently at the petals with the backs of his fingers, mumbling about how it felt soft, and something came back to you when the flower seemed to move of its own accord.

"Get back." You shot up from the rock you were previously sitting on and took a quick step towards him.

"It's fine." He insisted, not looking at you - too entranced by the flower as he continued to caress the petals. He didn't know this one. He found it intriguing.

You remembered where you'd seen the flower before. A book hidden deep in the archives, where you ventured when you knew no one was looking, part of a collection of things that the Jedi were not supposed to have interest in.

Your pace picked up as the flower curled in on itself, the fleeting look of disappoint clear on Obi-Wan's face, reaching for his shoulder to wrench him back.

"No! Obi-Wan, stop!"

But it was too late.

As you made contact with his robes to pull him away, the flower blossomed open. A bright cloud of purple pollen burst out and coated the two of you, settling itself over your skin and infiltrating your lungs, and therefore your blood stream, as you breathed it in.

You coughed, scrubbing at yourself to try and get it off. But you knew you were past that.

The Jedi turned to you, surprised to see the panic in your eyes. "It's just flower pollen, nothing a little water won't wash away."

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. "What have you done?"

He frowned and glanced back at the plant. It wasn't one he recognised, granted, but he also hadn't been warned of anything dangerous in this area. So he really wasn't concerned. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's a flos venerem." You whispered. "We need to find shelter."

As you turned around in a slow circle, trying to decide which way you were more likely to find somewhere to figure everything out, Obi-Wan watched you with a curious gaze.

"And what is a flos venerem?"

You scoffed over your shoulder at him. "Do you ever read?"

You knew it was an unfair question considering the place you'd read about the flower wasn't one he, or any other Jedi, frequented but you were angry and frightened. Angry at him for not listening to your warnings. And frightened for yourself since you knew what the flower was going to do to you.

He looked on as you closed your eyes, feeling out with the Force. "Now is not the time to insult me. Tell me."

You whirled on him. "It's an aphrodisiac. A powerful one. And if we don't find shelter soon then you're going to be doing some strange things to these trees."

Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled by what you were saying. "Is there a cure?"

You laughed humourlessly, turning away from him again. "Is there a cure? Is there a cure, he asks. Ha!"

"An antidote?"

"No, there's no antidote." You hissed.

The effects of the pollen were already weighing on you. You imagined Obi-Wan was also feeling something as well, just unaware of it. At least you knew what you were supposed to be feeling. The Jedi Knight had no idea.

Your mouth felt dry, like sand on your tongue, and your skin was hot to the touch. A dull headache was forming at the base of your skull too and you knew these sensations would only get worse if you didn't do what the flower wanted you to. There really was only one way to fix it. But you couldn't find it in yourself to tell your companion the solution. You were ignoring the heavy feeling in the base of your abdomen.

Sensing your apprehension wasn't overstated, Obi-Wan pointed back in the direction you'd come from. "There was a cave a little while ago. We can go there and you can tell me more about this... aphrodisiac flower."

You only nodded, lacking the strength to tell him that you wouldn't be able to listen to his voice out of fear of what bodily responses that would cause in you. Your existing attraction to Obi-Wan would only be increased by the influence of the plant. And you were scared what you'd do, or what you'd suggest, to ease the feelings.

You started marching in the direction the two of you had come from, jumping away from Obi-Wan as he fell into step beside you and his shoulder brushed yours.

"Keep- keep your distance for a while." You muttered, pushing away the lick of heat that had shot through you at his proximity.

He frowned back at you, feeling bad for making you so clearly uncomfortable. "My apologies."

"It's okay. I'm just-" You cut yourself off with a groan.

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched at the sound. "You're just what?"

"The flower is making it difficult to be next to you." You turned your head away from him, desperately trying to breathe in the clean forest air and nothing else. But all you could smell was him. The scent was so strong that you could practically taste him, his skin, and it was making your mouth water.

"You're already feeling the effects of the flower?" He hummed, pondering. "I feel nothing so far."

It wasn't true. But he was completely unaware of what he was feeling. He put the dry mouth and headache down to minor exhaustion, the hike through the forest finally catching up with him. And the stirring he was feeling... down below was foreign. The Jedi secretly believed that maybe he was immune to the flower's influence.

He was severely wrong.

You glanced back at him, instantly looking away when you caught his wide-eyed gaze. His eyes were so blue, so familiar.

You marched ahead of him, ignoring his quiet protests as you urgently sought out the cave. It came into sights quickly and your pace picked up, practically running towards it now. When you reached it, you discarded your top layer of robes, the heat your body was producing making it feel as if you were melting, and left your lightsaber by the entrance to the stone shelter. You feared what you may do with it when the flower's effects got even worse.

Obi-Wan followed closely behind you and watched with curious attention at your actions, slightly puzzled when you made your way towards the back of the cave and sat down facing the wall.

"Sit over there." You pointed over your shoulder to a spot far away from yourself. "I need to think."

"Trying to remember an antidote?" He asked, wondering what there possibly was to think about right now. And without his help as well.

"Sure." You sighed, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You weren't thinking about an antidote since you knew there wasn't one. You were considering your options. Even though you knew they were limited. Very limited.

He trusted your word however, which was mildly foolish of him, and took a seat where you'd instructed him to do so. He kept his gaze on you, fixated on the back of your head, as he observed your breathing pick up and then slow back down several times of the course of a few minutes.

What Obi-Wan failed to notice was how his breathing was in tune with yours, increasing when yours did and lowering when yours did.

It didn't escape him though when the flower's influence started to manipulate his body even more. The dry mouth, dull headache, rapid heartbeat, and hardened dick were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And Obi-Wan couldn't stay in denial for much longer.

So he called out your name.

Big mistake.

You jumped at the sound, having to bite your tongue to prevent noise slipping from your lips, and glanced at him over your shoulder."Yes?"

"I believe the flower is finally setting in." He decided that was the best way to put it and not that the sight of you was making him think things he hadn't even considered since he was a lot younger.

You looked at him silently for a second too long, eyes flicking downwards before moving back up to meet his again. "Meaning?"

His brows creased for a moment. "You know."

You did. So you turned back towards the wall and stared at it. "I'm thinking really hard about it, okay? I'll work something out."

Lies.

Time progressed slowly, moving at a sluggish pace that had you wanting to claw your way out of the cave in temporary insanity, and you could hear Obi-Wan's condition growing steadily worse by the minute.

You were finding it a lot easier than him to control yourself, probably due to your more extensive knowledge on the subject of simple carnal pleasure. But Obi-Wan was losing it.

You kept your eyes focused on the stone in front of you, desperately trying to ignore the sounds that Obi-Wan was making behind you. The breathless whimpers that were leaving his mouth were heavenly to your ears, creating a pulse that shook through your body regularly. Despite the sounds making you feel good, it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from giving in and crawling over to him. Especially since you could hear him tearing off at least one layer of his clothing.

"Obi-Wan, please be quiet." You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To the Jedi your voice sounded husky, tempting almost. "I cannot help it. Please help me."

His voice was desperate, almost whiny, as he begged you for some sort of assistance. If only he knew what that assistance was.

You squeezed your eyes closed, resting your face in your hands. "I'm trying."

It was a lie. You knew that nothing could be done. The passage from the book you'd read about the flower had been very clear. Death was inevitable. Unless you engaged with someone... intimately.

It was the only method that would get your bodily reactions to calm down. If not, the next few days would be painful for the both of you. You'd be extremely aroused the whole time, heart racing at a million beats per minute, sweat would pour out of you and cause severe dehydration that would be impossible to remedy, and finally your body would give up from the sheer exhaustion of trying to handle it all. Then, you'd drop dead.

Just how exactly were you supposed to voice that to Obi-Wan, the man who'd boasted about his ability to follow the Order's rules for years, that the only way for the both of you to survive this was to sleep together? And how were you supposed to recover from possibly finally having the man you'd wanted for so long for just one night and then never again?

"I can sense that you're keeping something from me."

Your head snapped up at his statement. He was correct, sure, but you hadn't expected him to pick up on it in his state.

So you turned around to look at him, legs crossed in front of you and back against the wall to keep yourself as far from him as possible.

"There is one solution that I know of." You confessed, still thinking of a way to tell him.

"Just tell me. I know it's troubling you. It's okay." Obi-Wan's tone was soft and comforting.

You took a deep breath in. "You won't like it."

"Do we have a choice?"

You let the breath out again. "Death."

He released a tired and humourless chuckle. "I can assure you that I'll prefer whatever solution you have to death. So tell me."

You debated what words would spook the Jedi less. Were you clinical and informative? Or soft and subtle? The sweat dripping from his temple, begging to be licked away by the tip of your tongue, was telling you to be harsh and raw with him.

Your gaze fixed on his mouth. "We have to have sex, Obi-Wan. Multiple times probably." The last part was added on for emphasis, meant to draw a reaction out of him.

He gave it to you. His already flushed cheeks reddened some more, eyes darting away from yours momentarily. It's not that the antidote was unexpected, he figured that it would lead somewhere like this considering the two of you had been contaminated by an aphrodisiac, but he thought maybe that there would be another solution. Or that you'd at least beat around the bush a little more.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell you that he'd never done something like that before so wouldn't even know where to start.

Little did he know that you were already well aware of that fact.

"I'll guide you through it." You paused. "But once we get started I don't think you'll need much guidance. The effects of the pollen will probably lead you."

His eyes snapped back to you, a frown pinching between them. "And what do you know of it?"

"Obi-Wan..." You mumbled, tilting your head down slightly to give him a meaningful look.

He didn't look thrilled at the notion.

You scoffed, annoyance bubbling at his obvious judgement. "We all have a past."

He knew what you meant. Sure, everyone had a past. He just didn't realise you had that sort of past. Still, he realised he had no place to pass judgement against you.

Heat pulsed between your thighs at the sudden wide-eyed apologetic look he was giving you. A groan rumbled in your chest and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I see that this is hard for you." He whispered and you attempted to hold back a laugh thinking that this probably wasn't the only thing that was hard. "So, how about you come over here and... show me what we have to do."

You looked back at him, surprised by the boldness he was showing. Yes, he wasn't a shy man by any means but you thought he'd have been a bit less confident in this situation. Or maybe the whole thing would just be so meaningless to him that he thought it'd be easy.

Obi-Wan could feel random muscles in his body clenching as you stared at him. He'd never felt like this before. He'd always known that you were beautiful, it was impossible to ignore, but he'd never thought much else of it. But now? He couldn't do anything else apart from think about it.

You slowly pushed yourself up from your seated position and fell onto your hands and knees, too tense to stand up, and made your way towards him steadily. He was surprised to find himself practically buzzing at the sight of you crawling towards him, a ravenous look on your face. You stopped about a foot in front of him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes.

A hand reached out for you.

You took it.

With his help, you settled yourself over Obi-Wan's lap, a leg either side of his thighs so you straddled him. You didn't let your weight rest on him just yet, wanting to check in quickly to make sure he was okay. It was taking everything in your power not to start touching him all over despite your overactive brain basically screaming at you to do so.

His eyes moved rapidly, taking you in as he searched across your body. A hand landed on either of your hips, encouraging you to move closer to him. So you did, chest pushing slightly against his and weight pressing into his lap as you sat down. The both of you let out a sigh at the contact, pain eased for just a few moments.

It was then that you noticed you'd sat on something extremely hard.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" You chuckled, about to reach down to remove the weapon from the inside of his robes.

But Obi-Wan's eyes flickered over your shoulder to somewhere behind you. Slowly, you turned to see what he was looking out, a small pinch between your eyebrows, and saw where you'd discarded your own lightsaber earlier. What you were surprised to find was his lightsaber resting up against a rock beside yours.

"Oh." You croaked and looked back at him, eyes shooting to his crotch for a brief moment. "You are just happy to see me."

"The flower." He grumbled lowly.

Your heart fell momentarily, your face along with it, before you recovered and looked downwards towards his chest. "Right, of course."

Realising he'd made a fatal mistake, Obi-Wan placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to make eye contact again. "A combined effect of the flower and... you."

Your mouth dropped open for a second, dazed by his statement, before a smile blossomed along your face. "There was one thing I forgot to mention."

"And what was that?" His eyes were fixed on your mouth now.

"The flower's effects are stronger and fast acting if you are already attracted to the person you're with at the time of exposure." You leaned towards him closer, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "I expected to feel the influence at least an hour or two before you did, Master."

A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, escaped his lips at the use of the title. It surprised you, you hadn't thought he'd be into that kind of thing. You didn't give him a chance to give you a real response though, the noise he'd just made finally pushing you over the edge.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, thumbs swiping over his cheeks to wipe the purple pollen away. He let out another sound at that, this one more shocked, but equally as unrestrained. Your mouth opened just in time to catch it and swallow it against your own moan at finally feeling his lips melding with yours.

Usually, in the past, you’d have some sense of patience in this situation. But it’s like the feeling of his skin under your palms and his lips against yours, your tongue in his mouth, sent the pollen vibrating in your bloodstream. And before you knew it, your hands were tearing at his clothes, absolutely desperate to get them off.

And while Obi-Wan was a little more hesitant than you, inexperience slowing him down, once he felt how eager you were he could only join in on the action. His hands were soft, almost silky, like they hadn’t ever seen a day of hard labour in his life, and they sent warm bursts of electricity through you as they slid against your skin.

All barriers between you were removed in less than a minute, although time seemed to be flying now that you’d actually gotten beyond just staring at each other and ignoring all feelings your body had been screaming at you to address.

“Do you know what comes next, Master?” You questioned, wondering how out of practice he really was.

Obi-Wan seemed to pause, taking a long thought, before saying anything. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know.” You said and he seemed both embarrassed and surprised. “That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens?”

“I’ve heard things.” He admitted slowly.

Up until this point you’d been trying to avoid looking down at his naked body. Sure, the two of you had been pretty enthusiastic in taking the other’s clothes off but neither of you had verbally stated what you were comfortable with actually doing. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel every inch of him pressing against you though. Somehow in the tumble of robe removal, you’d slid forward on his lap which had caused your torsos to connect. And you hadn’t bothered to move back again.

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort, finding none. “Can I touch you?”

He sputtered. “You already are.”

“No-“ You took a deep breath. “Can I touch you… down there?”

You were hesitant to say certain words to him, cringing at just the thought of them coming out of your mouth and entering his ears. You shouldn’t be shy about this, having done this countless times before. But now you were doing it with Obi-Wan, someone you admired with the deepest affection, it felt different. A good different but different nonetheless.

“Oh.” The flush he’d been sporting across his face stretched to meet the tip of his ears and you reached up to tuck some hair back away from them. “Yes, you can.”

You could see that the lust the flower caused had taken over all rational thought as his irises, usually so blue and bright, had been consumed by his pupils dilating. Was this a good idea, you silently wondered? Did he truly want this? Or was the flos venerem speaking for him?

Before you had the chance to ponder over that even more, the animal instincts in your brain took over and your hand was wrapping around his, pretty sizeable, cock.

He hissed at the sensation of your warm palm touching him and you observed his reaction with hungry curiosity. You liked the way his eyes fluttered closed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, the way his head snapped back against the cave wall and he didn’t even seem to notice that it should’ve hurt. He was too absorbed in the pleasurable way that you were touching him.

You were touching him.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were flying amongst the stars.

Your hand slid up and down his length, taking in every minor reaction he gave you to see what he liked. The answer was: he liked all of it. No matter the pace of your strokes, the pressure of your squeeze, or the angle of the twist, Obi-Wan revelled in it all.

Every sound he made caused what felt like a flood to pour from between your thighs, skin prickling with flames of desire. You increased the speed of the pumps against his shaft, feeling him twitch in your hand. Obi-Wan started babbling to himself, something you couldn’t quite understand but realised were certainly happy mumblings. It didn’t take much more until he was orgasming, cum spurting out of him in hot ropes and coating both of your stomachs.

You weren’t surprised to see that he remained hard. At least the botany books hadn’t lied to you about the multiple times thing.

“Need you inside me now, Obi-Wan.” You whispered, pleased when his eyes seemed to spark with something akin to excitement. Pushing yourself up slightly, you took him in your hand again and aligned him with your entrance. Notching him against you, you inched down onto him slowly, feeling your hips stutter willing you to go faster, and watched his face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear him say something, even a noise of approval would work for you.

He nodded rapidly and whined. “Yes, yes.”

Pleasure rocketed up your spine, walls clenching around him and he whimpered again. His hips bucked up underneath you and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He did it again.

You came.

A shocked laugh escaped your throat as the orgasm rippled through. You hadn’t realised it would be that easy but given that you’d denied yourself any friction and stimulation for way too long considering the situation you were in, it only made sense.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Did you just-?”

“Yes.” You sighed and rocked your hips against his, thighs still trembling with the aftershock.

“Stars-“ He gasped, head falling forward to bury his face in your neck. You smiled at the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin and moved faster.

Time became a haze, multiple orgasms rolled into a blur, and before you know it you felt like you couldn’t move anymore. Your legs ached, your body dripped with sweat and your breathing was shaky and uneven.

But you were determined for one more.

Obi-Wan gasped about it being too much but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to thrust up underneath you. Which you were thankful for considering you could feel your thighs cramping up and barely managing to support your weight. His arms locked around you, trapping you against him, as he pounded into you urgently like he was chasing something. He was really. And you could understand.

“Come on, Master, just one more.” You murmured against his temple.

It took only those words of encouragement for Obi-Wan to spill inside you once again, the feeling of that setting you off as well. And finally the two of you relaxed, the pollen’s effects wearing away.

The two of you sat against each other breathless for a moment before you eased up off of him and settled beside him. He immediately collapsed against you, sliding down until his head met your lap. You placed a hand in his hair as his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.

Now that the high had passed, guilt was setting in.

“What have I done?” Obi-Wan croaked, burying his face against your thighs.

You froze, knowing you should be feeling this same shame but not finding it in yourself to care. At least not right now. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He almost wailed. “I broke- I broke rules. Sacred Jedi code.”

“You had no choice. It was either that or death.” Tears stung at the backs of your eyeballs, willing yourself not to crack and break down. He needed you to be strong. “There was no other way.”

He knew you were right, a small seed of relief buried deep in his chest. He didn’t have another choice. But then there was another matter…

You continued to try to make him feel better. "The council will forgive you, Obi-Wan. It couldn't have been helped."

The Jedi could only nod in reply. That wasn't what worried him anymore, your logical argument had been enough to reassure him of that. What did worry him is how much he wanted it to happen again.

He glanced up at you. "What about you? Can you forgive me?"

You paused, hand stilling against the side of his head. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"Please." He whispered against your skin. "Please just-"

It hurt you to hear the break in his voice. A man, usually so confident, reduced to this. All because of something out of his control.

You took a deep breath, stared straight ahead at the cave wall opposite you, tears in your eyes and a hand combing through his hair. "I forgive you, Obi-Wan."

A/N: I listened to Star Wars ambience on YouTube as I wrote most of this. Hope you enjoyed!

[bacchicly]

A few imperfect thoughts about writing fat characters respectfully

By me :

A short (5'2"), fat (approx 300 pounds), middle aged (turning 42 thank god), married to not a fat man, mother of a pre-teen, white, CIS, Anglo, Canadian, upper-middle class woman who writes fic (including smut) about a character who is fat by TV and Hollywood standards (Penelope Garcia)

Note: fat hate or debates about whether being fat is healthy or not will not be tolerated on this post. That is not what this post is about. This is about giving some insight into what writers may want to consider when trying to respectfully include more fat characters in their work and generally moving towards writing doing less harm to fat people.

This post started with me wanting to respond to someone honnestly asking "how do I write good descriptions of fat people" because they wanted to write more fat characters and write them authentically (and I assume in a way that would be respectful to fat people) which is an awesome! ...Or maybe it started a few months ago when a writer friend asked about whether a fat character in a fic borrowing a shirt or hoody from her fit boyfriend made sense. ...Or maybe it started way back when I started writing my first fan fic featuring Penelope Garcia partly in response to being irritated about how so many writers wrote her as a young woman and were often silent on her size or spent a lot of time on her insecurities about her body... anyhoo that's where I come from... doesn't make me an expert except maybe on my own unique experience with a fat body...rather more a fellow muddler / fat character writer enthusiast.

THE BASICS

This first part is a quick list of basics you'll read in other posts about writing characters in general - but we'd better get them out of the way because they apply:

Every character is unique and they way they act and think and feel tends to be a product of some mix of what they look like, how their body works or doesn't, how their brain works and doesn't, their "personality", what they were taught, their unique experiences, and the situation/society they are currently in. There are patterns (which is why we get tropes) but the fun thing is that small things can make big differences. So to write an authentic character, it helps to have a fairly clear sense of at least some of those elements and do some imagining about how all of that would funnel into the moment your writing.

The amount to which you describe character bodies and the style which you use to describe them tends to depend on genre, what the heck is going on in your story, the pov you're writing from, the reason you're writing etc. So their are no hard or fast rules. There may be norms for certain styles of fiction, but then it's up to you to decide if it's stronger for you to lean into those norms or to write "against" them at a particular moment.

In order to be more respectful and less harmful to fat people (especially if you see value in actively challenging the anti-fat status quo), you may have to change how you describe all bodies in your work, as well the attitudes both fat people and non fat people have about bodies in general.

Now that that's out of the way... let's get specifically to my thoughts on writing fat characters. I'm going to divide this part into tips for DESCRIBING FAT BODIES, FAT BODIES IN SPACE, and THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

TIPS FOR DESCRIBING FAT (OR OTHER) BODIES

I would say that both consistency and diversity across the work is important, by this I mean :

Consistently describe bodies in about the same amount of detail across your work for the same type of character regardless of body type. So protagonists should get about the same depth and breath of body descriptions as each other regardless of body type. Same goes for vilalns, supporting characters etc. Sometimes people are mute about the look and shape of "strait sized" character bodies (because what's to describe - they are just "normal") but then spend a bunch of time on "other sized" bodies or vice versa (in this case, the fat body is erased usually because of some form of internalised fat hate or phobia paired with "if you can't say anything nice" don't say anything at all.) If you're doing either of these things, I'm not saying it's wrong and has to be fixed- I'm just saying it's a flag that you may want to think about why you are writing differently about different body types and what your work is saying about what bodies have value and which don't.

Diversity Bodies in the real world come in a lot of different shapes and sizes (I know I know obvious woman strikes again) but if you are writing stories with fairly large casts and everyone has the same body type - there better be a good reason for it within the narrative. Truthfully there are cases where this does make sense to some degree... if you're writing about a group where there are physical requirements and standards for the folks in that world (ballet dancers, fire fighters, cops, soldiers, fbi agents) there may or may not be less diversity in body type and more homogeneous attitudes to body norms within the group - and certainly those who are outside of the norm may be commented on or feel like they are "other". But if you are in a more free setting - if you write without a diversity of body types - especially in settings where there is diversity - that is probably a clue that you're not thinking enough about what your various characters look like and may be "normalizing" one type of body over others. Similarly, if you are writing about a real time and place where there is evidence that there were fat bodies and you have none...that's another flag to ask yourself why.

The magical tools in your toolkit for describing fat and other bodies: Body neutrality and POV

Body neutrality is about not loving bodies and not hating bodies just accepting bodies as they are....or in this case describing them as they are. No poetic language. No judgement. Just this is what this character looks like. If you're struggling to do this, I suggest doing a body map for at least two characters with different body types - possibly one that you find easy to think of positively (in this case likely someone thin or at least fit) and one that you find more difficult to describe positively (in this case someone fat).

Describe them head to toe, naked and then clothed, in detail - acurately but not poetically. Start with their feet and then work up bit by bit. Pay attention to things like hair, scars, shape of joints, acne, tightness or looseness of skin, colour of skin, nails, fat, lack of fat, muscle tone, where do they hold their stress, what's in the bowels, how well they do or don't work, do they have their appendix, what they ate last, proportions (is their torso long or short compared to their legs), lungs - how much do they hold, are they healthy? - now describe their throat, shoulders, hands, hair, then end with face.

The only rule is no positive or negative connotations to anything. it's neither good nor bad that they have stretch marks - they just do and they have faded to silver. Now that you "see them' clearly - now look at them through the eyes of someone who loves them in a familial way...what do they see most? what words do they use? now through someone who is attracted to them sexually and love them and aren't ashamed...what do they see most? what words do they use? Now through the eyes of someone who hates them or wants to change them? or a child? or a dog? Now... how does your character feel about these descriptions? Now you have a variety of words you can draw on to describe the body and you also should have a fairly good idea of what is a more skewed view of the body and a more realistic view.

Also...it can be helpful to remember there are no consistently good or bad words to describe bodies - it depends on context and who is using the words. It's a lot like how sick can be used to describe something negatively or positively depending on the agreed upon meaning of the word by a group.

DESCRIBING BODIES IN SPACE/MOTION

Ok here's the thing - for every activity you can think of - there is a fat body that does it well and a fat body that can't do it easily or at all and there are a lot of reasons for both. Often it has to do with the fact that a lot of equipment is built for people who are 250lbs or less; and anything for bigger people tends to cost a premium. Also, if it's not an easy new skill to acquire with the body you've got...it may take longer and more bravery to keep pushing through to achieve mastery. People may try to discourage you from pursuing things. Sometimes out of prejudice, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of caring.

So deciding what your character's body can do easily and what it can't and why is more important than me giving you a list of words for how to describe fat movements.

My suggestion is: do your research. What sorts of body types have done the activity in the real world? What are the exceptions? What changes? So for example if a fat person is climbing a mountain - do they need more help? Different equipment? A different route?

Things to consider:

- equipment / things that can have weight limits: bunk beds, roller coasters, scooters, waterslides, camping chairs, elevators, trampolines, some bikes, life jackets (finding one that fit was a nightmare), exercise balls, airline seats (learning to ask for the seatbelt extender without second thought or shame was a lifesaver)

- not all fat people have pain, those who do will move taking into account the specifics of the pain - same as a lean person

- when I was pregnant I just got more cylindrical and did not get a classic belly. I moved well and easily all the way through my pregnancy, I had none of the back pain or ankle pain some people get. I stood for a lot of my labour. I gave birth on my hands and knees. Other fat people will have had different experiences of pregnancy...but that was mine.

- clothing can have a huge impact on what bounces or jiggles and what doesn't

- most (but not all) fat people I know are particularly sensitive to appearing sweaty or smelling bad

- how winded someone gets is not directly correlated to body size, neither is heart rate or breathing style; I have theatre training and grew up swimming - I breath very slowly and very deeply normally - so when I talk a slow deep breath...it is very slow and deep indeed. I have always been fat but can swim forever - I have always gotten winded and kind of dizzy running... Other fat people may be opposite.

- people do not "see fat" consistently. People regularly underestimate how fat I am (by 100+ pounds or many clothing sizes) because I am short, well spoken, proportioned in a way that is seen as fairly typical, and very mobile and very light on my feet. Someone who weighs less than me but is slower moving, dull witted, in a sour mood, is illl, or poorly dressed may be perceived as much heavier than than someone the same weight or heavier who is behaving/clothed differently (which can change how much fat hate someone experiences) and definately heavier than they are. Height also changes how people perceive weight.

- many stores still don't carry plus sized clothing, but eventually i sort of got used to it - although some days it makes me angry and other days sad

- chairs with arms or the occasional booth can be uncomfortable or just plain impossible to sit in, it's probably partly my ADHD but I often forget this until it happens; for taller and fatter people than me this can be a much more regular occurrence.

- once (if) a character figures out how to dress/move their body in a way that feels comfortable and meets general standards (or at least theirs) of respectability - they may not think that much about their body...or at least until something external draws attention to it

- I don't like feeling like I'm squishing people, so I will make myself small and still on buses or at the theatre, I also don't like sitting on laps or being lifted or carried.

- I often feel much taller than I actually am - except when I am standing right beside someone taller or am trying to reach something on a high shelf. The same principle applies - I feel larger next to smaller people and smaller next to larger ones.

- clothing and what I'm carrying also changes how I move (just like my lean counterparts)

- I don't lounge, my car seat is set almost straight but I sit further back than my brother in law who has a similar height and weight - he leans the seat back but pulls closer. I don't nap. My leaner husband both lounges and naps.

- some fat folks eat, walk, and move quickly - some slowly; figuring out which your character does, when they behave "out of character", and why these are their preferences will go a long way to creating an authentic feeling fat character

- acne is a thing and learning to accept ones rolls and tummy aprons (and thus take care of them properly) is a common challenge; although many do it naturally without thinking much of it. You lift your breasts and wash underneath - you lift you belly and wash underneath.

- fat bodies have the same reactions as everyone else: they tingle, burn, get numb, get goose bumps, like to be touched in certain places and in certain ways, feel the breeze, get hot, get cold, shiver, stretch, relax, get aroused, feel release, hold tension, feel capable and strong, feel weak...no matter who you are sitting in a chair that's too small for you will put pressure on your body and feel uncomfortable or safe ..you can explore what that is like. Sometimes it is a reassuring sensation. Sometimes it is uncomfortable. This is the same for fat bodies. It just may happen more frequently and depending on your character's context and experience the emotional reaction / thoughts that are generated may be a bit different.

THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

I think I touched on some of this in some of the earlier sections...but here I want to talk a bit about my experience of being fat and my thoughts about it - your fat characters may or may not feel similarly...but my hope is that you at least think about options as opposed to only writing one or two types of fat character.

I mainly "feel" fat in moments when it is pointed out to me or I am limited in what I can do because of it

I quite like my body, it is my home and I feel very connected to it's features. In my experience this is unusual for many people in North American society regardless of actual body shape or weight. Sometimes I feel guilty for not hating my body the way "I am supposed to" and wonder vaguely if my body would be different if I could hate it more (although as I get older I doubt it).

I do feel some pressure to be a cheerful "good" fat person as a way to stay safe and survive.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than me calling myself fat without judgement or asking for accomodation matter of factly. It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing so, but I do it now all the time and it makes my life better.

I felt some pressure to be the fun friend who people feel comfortable eating whatever they wanted with and I often felt like I was depended on to order dessert so they could too. This may have been all in my mind though.

Fat bellies can be very intimate places.

Not all fat people have dieted, but many have. I was lucky enough to never be forced into a diet. I did try keto once but it was a bit intense and nuts so I stopped. I learned a bunch doing it though.

Medical people not treating you appropriately when your fat is 100% a thing.

Internalised fat hate and fat phobia is a thing for many fat people and it pops up at weird moments.

I don 't.give a damn about being in a bathing suit. As long as it fits and my boobs and butt.aren't.falling out - I am happy and feel very attractive. In fact I am probably at my most comfortable in a bathing suit or naked. My body is mine in both those instances.

To reach the "healthy weight" for my height - I would have to lose half of my body mass. That is a lot of me to loose. Embarking on something like that would be totally different than loosing 5 or 10 pounds. Trying to navigate the various medical opinions about whether being fat is bad or not is exhausting.

For me, being fat and older is easier than being fat and younger. This could easily be the opposite for someone else.

Some fat people are into sex, some are not . Some folks are into sex with fat people and some are not. Some are nice about it. Some are not. Some want nice. Some do not.

Fat people are all around you living their best life or their worst life or somewhere in between. We know we are fat. We sometimes care and sometimes don't.

Ok that's it. I don't know if it will help anyone or if it's just a collection of rambles - but at the end of the day...fat people are just people. We are not going to go away. We are all sorts. We are the heroes of our own stories. We are people who are loved, depended on, hated, ignored, and/or spotlighted.

Some fat people think about being fat all the time. Some rarely. Just please don't erase us or other us.

Just by taking the step to interrogate your own biases and any feelings / assumptions you have about fatness/thinness is a huge step and will help limit the harm you could unintentionally do to fat people...actually to all people. Like all forms of hate and intelorance - Fat hate hurts EVERYONE. I would argue it privileges a few...but even that can be excruciating for the individuals who strive to retain that priviledge. We need to dismantle it.

[hauntedwitch04]

Video call

Sam Winchester x reader

Words: about 1.2k

Warnings: smut, brat Sammy

Author's note: Hi loves<3. So first day of this kinktober! So happy to share again my fics with you. Hope you enjoy it<3

kinktober 2024 - taglist

You haven't heard from the boys in two days, and you're starting to worry.

You get out of the shower, drying your hair with a towel when you hear the computer make a rhythmic, cheerful sound, and immediately with run to answer the video call.

You read your fiancé's name on the screen, and immediately a shiver of happiness runs down your spine, before a little voice in your head reminds you of what he and his older brother had gone through on the hunt they went on far from what you now call home. As soon as you answer, you see his handsome face reveal itself before you, with his usual infectious smile that he often only turns to you. His happy eyes immediately make you let out a sigh of relief, realizing that he is all right, though that doesn't stop you from taking a good look at him.

"Love, how are you?" he breaks the silence after a few seconds of you standing in silence watching each other. You smile and shake your head.

"I should be the one to ask how you're doing, you're the one who went on a suicide mission with Dean." He comments and Sam can't help but laugh at your words.

"Suicide mission seems exaggerated to me, we have done much worse things. This was a simple ghost, nothing out of the ordinary." He says as if he were talking about today's weather.

"To think that a few years ago ghosts were the strangest thing we encountered."

"Yeah, those were good times, other than demons, angels, God and Lucifer." Sam comments, shaking his head as he takes a good look at you.

"Did you just get out of the shower?" Your fiancé asks as he looks around for a second in the dingy motel room where he and Dean are staying. His brother has gone out for a drink at the bar, so Sam is sure that for some time he will certainly not be bothered by the elder Winchester.

"It's not nice to peek into the cleavage of a lady Sam Winchester, you know." You say as you purposely lean forward so that your breasts are even more visible, knowing that they are one of the few Sam's weak spots when it comes to you.

"Come on baby, all I've been doing for a week is thinking about you and all the unpronounceable things I would do to you if I had you here in my hands." He says whining.

"You are lucky then that just this morning I bought a little something for you. I've been waiting to show it to you when we meet again, but I might make an exception to the rule and show it to you." You say as you get up from the bed you were sitting on. "But you must promise me that you will close your eyes and wait."

"Scout's honor." Sam says bringing one hand to his chest, while with the other he slides the computer lower, thus managing to pull down the zipper of his jeans and over his boxers massaging the erection that was becoming more painful as the minutes passed.

After a few minutes you reappear in front of the screen in a sheer satin dress that reaches just below your ass, through which you can see everything. This perfectly wraps your breasts and also allows you to see the microscopic panties you are wearing. In his eyes you are always a godness, but in this moment, he swears he never believed this much in something supernatural, because for sure you are not human, an neither an angel or a siren, a new species, his and only his.

Sam lets out a sigh as he feels he might burst out at that same moment.

"God, help me." He whispers in an under voice.

"There is no one to help you Sammy boy, just you and me." You say sensuously, as you sit back on your heels, making your tits stick out even more prominently, pointing out your turgid nipples through the thin fabric to your boyfriend, who by now had pulled his dick out of his boxers and started gently massaging it, fearful that he might orgasm at any moment. On seeing this you cannot refrain from bringing your right hand down to your thin panties, the only barrier separating you from the most sensitive spot on your body. He begins to touch you gently as you see him close his eyes and rest his head against the wall behind him.

"Eyes on me Sammy." You incite him as you uncover your breasts with your left hand and begin to massage them, moaning with the pleasure this simple act brings you. But that is not enough and you know it. You will never cum as you do on his thick finger, on his sexy hands. You start to imagine that is his hand to touch you on you cunt, and in the exact moment you feel yourself closer than ever to the orgasm.

"We'll see if you're still this commanding when I get home honey." Sam says, moaning as his eyes fix on the movement of your hips, on your fingers as you chase a pleasure he knows you can't get to without him. He continues to look at you, chasing with you the same high you bith crave. The man then remains mesmerized by your tits that continue to move as if in a dance to the sound of your moans.

"Good, that's the way to move. I know you can't come except with my fingers anyway, don't you love?" He says in a sensual tone as you nod too caught up in the pleasure. "You are my little slut, you can't cum if I'm not the one that is making you cum." He continues. "Words, babe, I want words. I want to know what my voice is making you while you ride that preatty hands of yours thinking is mine."

You moan while your finger starts to go faster while you can't say a single word, your brain to lost to even comprend that anymoment Dean could come back. While you are loosing yourself, Sam start to stroke his cock even faster than before, reaching everytime somewhere closer to the pleasure he longs for. You hear his moans and you understand that he is cumming, so you start to touch you clit faster, feeling your pleasure near. In this moment, where you where on the peak, ready to fall in that sinful sensation, when he suddenly tells you to stop.

You open you eyes, closed for the pleasure you where feeling coming near your orgasm, and you see him looking like a god, while he still slowly stroke himself, glowing from his previous pleasure.

"You wanted to provoke me with the little thing you are wearing, now you don't get to cum sweetheart. You'll wait until I come home tomorrow, and I'll get to tear that dress on the floor. See you love, sleep well." He ends the calls like this, sending you a kiss while you are still there, unsatisfied and angry with him, but at the same time turned on for the things he will do tomorrow when you will be together again.

Taglist:

@alinabookworm @lynbubble @beanpods-blog @bartonsgirl @chaos1864 @anu-piyakya97 @alexyzm0on @elliexHerron @throwing-up-butterflies

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: HERO

“𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃.”

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere/tsundere! modern hero x villain! reader

✧ status: unedited

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, violence, morally dubious reader, horny hero, tsundere hero.

✧ a/n: both character’s genders are up to your imagination. also i’m making this my permanent theme now for general yans fics (consistency/recognizabilty’s sake)

[series masterlist]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“You’re getting a bit sloppy aren’t you, lil hero?”

“Shut up, wretched being! C-Come back here!”

You and Yandere! Hero have been nemeses for what felt like lifetimes. Ever since you became a sidekick as a kid, up until the present time as adults.

You saw them as a sibling. You’d fight once in a while but neither truly hurt each other. In fact, you never once attempted to kill them, and they in turn never attempted to put you behind bars. The cycle always repeated.

You were relatively close in terms of power. More times than not, things would end up being a tie where the two of you would be too tired to continue. But recently your cutie patootie hero has been getting sluggish. Their attacks lacked any sort of vigour, and their reflexes dulled.

You would offer to talk and assist them, but another one of your hidden rules in this relationship of sorts was that you two would never interfere with life outside of crime and fighting thereof.

Unbeknownst to you, Yandere! Hero fought another villain (cheater!) whose powers were related to nightmares and fears.

Their greatest nightmare . . . was losing their status as a hero — losing you.

You have been such a huge part of their formative years and beyond that the thought of even retiring and losing contact scared the hell out of them. The idea of never being able to banter as you sparred, the concept of losing sight of that smug grin of yours on the times you won, and the very notion of you being dealt with by someone else — their chest would tighten to the point of being unable to breathe.

But they always shook their head, drowned themself in tasks as to avoid the anxiety that threatened their focus. After all, you were a villain. A monstrous creature that have hurt and killed people. The only reason they haven’t taken you down yet was because they were instructed by their predecessor not to.

Yeah, the fear of losing you? Probably just an extension of their desperate and zealous view on their position as a hero

They prayed it was.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“I told you that they were mine to take care of! You gave me this duty!”

“You and I both know you’ve been losing your fights more often than not. Look at how many people they’ve started to hurt again! I can’t leave you with a responsibility you, can’t, handle.”

Yandere! Hero couldn’t believe their ears. Everything they feared was starting to come true and it was only getting worse.

They started disobeying their mentor/predecessor’s commands. Commands that they used to referees — worship even. They knew they were making things go from trash to absolute shit, but they couldn’t care less anymore.

So what if you hurt those people? From what they understood, those people were a bunch of assholes at best; Crime-lords, all types of traffickers, and violent thugs. In fact, the very reason you aren’t in cuffs was because you often took justice into your own hands. You were just quite cruel and brutal when it came down to it.

One of their more unforgettable moments of you together was the time you saved them from another villain. You in your blood-soaked glory as you grinned, an attempt to comfort them while they neck-deep in voices that screamed failure. They were barely hurt while you could barely stand, yet you were the one hushing them as you rubbed circles on the small of their back. Shared whispers they’ll die before they talk of it to anyone else.

Yandere! Hero keeps meeting you again and again. Doing duties they were already forbidden from completing and abusing the favor of being a sidekick for so long.

Things get from worse to oblivion when they get news of being replaced.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“At least let me accompany them on patrols! What if they get hurt?”

“You worked alone just fine.”

“That is an entirely different story!”

This newbie didn’t know you for several years. This newbie never experienced fighting you much less alongside you. You would eat them alive.

Granted, it would be the newbie’s fault for being so incompetent but they digress.

While on patrol with the newbie, they do their best to sabotage them in every way they can. Giving them the wrong intel, alerting the enemy of their arrival if they do figure out the proper location, and above all making sure you two never cross paths at all. A peer of theirs hurting you would kill them.

Of course, with their frantic and frankly stressed out mind, it wasn’t long before you and the newbie encounter one another.

And, the two of you got along quite well. Your moves like a beautifully choreographed routine in the battlefield. More importantly, it looked as if you were having so much fun.

They really couldn’t help themself

When they stepped in and interrupted the two of you

A glaze in their eyes as they walked ever so slowly to the newbie and strangled them.

That horrified look on your face. They didn’t know if they liked it or hated it.

But what they did know is that from that moment forward, they can never call themself a proper hero again. Their mentor’s words echoed in their head.

“You are staying at the base and that is final. If I see you again out on the field, I’ll be the one to put you behind bars.”

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“Breaking News: A new vigilante has been spotted! Has our favorite hero been replaced? Well our sources say yes!”

“And would you look at that, they’re even worse at hiding their interest in their nemesis! Is this the love story we’ve all been waiting for?”

Yandere! Hero doesn’t remember when they last saw the sun anymore.

Their days were spent deep within the basement of the hero HQ, scrolling through any information they could find of you.

Their head constantly replaying the memories you shared, written in a systematic obsessed manner on a journal. From the very second you two first met, to the time you looked at them with eyes full of horror.

Your image had been scribbled, drawn, painted, carved, broken down, and built back up again hundreds of times.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Yandere! Hero used to wish that there would be a day you two would stop fighting. Whether it’d be them finally ending your streak of misdeeds, or you quitting. Anything would have satisfied them.

But now, now they just couldn’t see the appeal of it all.

All they could see was eternity with you.

And they’ll have that one way or another.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“I never could have imagine this to happen.”

“Really? You must have thought that I’d put you behind bars one day.”

“My fantasies were always, well — the other way around.”

You wore a calm expression.

Yandere! Hero, ever the fragile ego they had, would have seen this as an insult. A slight to their prowess.

But right now they couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Of course you wouldn’t be mad if they did this. You were you after all. You’ve been through much worse than being tied up and forced into a small cage more fit for an animal than a human.

And you being you, knew the many other ways to unnerve your poor rival.

“Wouldn’t it be ironic? If your replacement were to save me that is.”

You fought the anticipation from appearing on your face as you continued.

“Then they would truly become my hero.”

But your hopes were dashed, your giddiness dimmed as they simply replied.

“Then I’ll just kill them, and the next replacement after that. Until I go through every single capable human this planet has to offer and then more.”

Perhaps there was a reason why Heroes wore a mask aside from hiding their identities. That would certainly explain the chill you felt crawl up your limbs and spine as they lovingly stared at you.

“Because now I know that I love you. I’ll save you from everyone else but myself.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Peaches

Pairing: Jack Reacher x Reader

Word count: 5k

Notes: So… this is my first Reacher fic, I literally could not have done this without @silas-aeiou like bruh I would have done SO BADLY

“You do somethin’ different with your hair?” 

You look up from your desk, blinking slowly at the literal Hulk Jr. in front of you. Reacher goes to sit across from you; he makes the comfy chair look like it was made for a doll. 

“U-uh… yeah. Yeah I just- I’m trying a different mousse” 

“It works for you! Makes your curls really bouncy” 

You can’t help the light blush on your cheeks as you beam and turn away from your computer “That’s what I thought!!” 

Reacher had made it a sort of habit to come drop in on you, ever since Finlay had sent him down to get a copy of a report from you because he just needed five freaking minutes to himself. 

He replayed that moment in his head often because how could he not? You were standing precariously on a spinning chair-

Which, rule #1: Don’t. 

Trying to reach for some box on the top shelf, you had gloves on your bare feet which he could only assume were to keep your tights clean… at least you’d had the sense to take off your heels. You were leaning to the left when suddenly, you know like those kinds of chairs do, the wheels slipped out from under you. 

You screamed and braced yourself to end up on one of your tables, but it didn’t happen. You sure did crash into something hard, though. It smells good, too. Your eyes slowly open, and you’re met face to face with the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“H-hi” 

“Hi” 

His arm stays securely around you as he reaches up for the box you need and sets it down on the clean table. 

“Need anything else?” 

“U-uh no… no I’m- I’m good.” 

“Where are your shoes?” He hooks his arm under your legs and you yelp and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“What??” 

He tips you downward a little to point out your weirdly gloved feet.

“Shoes” 

“My office…” 

He carries you back to your office and sets you on your desk. Your shoes are off to the side and he grabs them for you. 

“Names Reacher, Detective Finlay sent me for the report on the John Doe that was brought in?” He kneels and takes off the gloves then places your shoes on your feet. He holds his hand out and helps you off the desk. He doesn’t let go until you do, and you’re finally able to really get a look at him. 

First of all, he’s freaking huge, you stagger back a little and he towers over you even in your heels. He folds his hands in front of him respectfully and you shrink down a little. He doesn’t… seem like he’s going to try anything, but you’re more than sure he could crush you with those very…very large biceps. They make shirts in that size??? 

He clears his throat and you blush, because hell yeah you’re staring and step a bit closer to him to grab the folder off your desk. 

“Uh…y-yeah I have that report. It’s- it’s not finished though I’m by myself and-“

“Can I help at all?” 

That was the day he became an assistant ME for an afternoon. You were so nervous around him. He watched your hands shaking while you filled out the report, and while he tried not to seem so… big, it didn’t really work. It took a good 45 minutes for you to finally calm down and start talking to him. 

Every time he was at the station he’d come down to your little area, sometimes he’d stay there for a bit and talk to you. You’d eventually started opening up to him the 5th time he’d come down, he put his hands on your hips and lifted you to reach a new box of gloves your colleague purposely put on the top shelf just to mess with you and you went on a mini rant.

“He’s always doing that!! I mean- I’m not that short!! Oh, so he’s five fuckin’ nine big whoop! How about I show him I’m closer to his junk!” You stomp your foot and he nods, watching you throw your tantrum. Because you were that short, especially to him. He finds himself watching the way you…bounce with every angry pace across your office. 

“You want me to take care of it for you?” He doesn’t like to get involved but for you? He’d consider it. 

You sighed and smiled a bit at him as you stopped pacing “No… I got it. But thanks for listening” You pat his hand and for the first time in a long time, he felt his heart skip a beat. 

After that? Jonathan, your coworker, made sure to always keep things on the perfect shelf for you. 

“So uh- are you busy today?” You get up from your desk, put away a couple of files, and walk around the front, hopping up on it. You cross one leg over the other and smooth out the front of your shirt. His eyes stay on your thighs for a minute before they travel lazily back up to your face. Your cheeks are pink as he shrugs. 

“Nope” 

He was, but he could blow off Finlay and Roscoe for a few hours, they probably wouldn’t care anyway. 

“Okay well uh-“ you smooth your shirt out again a nervous habit apparently that he thinks is cute. “Would you like to go out with me? Maybe we could go to lunch or dinner or something?” 

“What kind of car do you have?” 

You tilt your head quizzically and he has to keep from reaching out to stroke your plush thigh. 

“A Volks- Ohhh…” 

“Mhm, what time do you get off?” He smirks and you shrug, looking up at the clock.

“Well, now. It’s my early day, maybe I can give you my address? And you can pick me up in an hour or so?” 

He stands up out of the chair and takes a step toward you. You’d open your legs but you’re not sure they could stretch enough for him, instead, he comes closer, getting in your personal space, you can feel the heat radiating off his body, his cologne filling the small space. 

“I know where you live”

“Of course you do” You scold him playfully and he hooks his finger under your chin, titling your head up to look at him.

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. Two o’clock sound good to you?”

“Mhm! Sounds perfect” Your eyes flit to his lips and right back to his eyes and he chuckles, letting you go and turning to leave. 

“See you soon”  

What the hell do you wear on a date?? 

What the hell do you wear on a casual, out-of-nowhere, I didn’t think I’d get this far, date with a man like Reacher?

It’s getting closer to two as you tug at the roots of your hair, you hiss at yourself and re-fluff your hair, because if there’s one thing you got right, it’s your hair. 

You’ve thrown at least half your closet out and the other half is coming next. You dig through the pile next to you and come up with a pair of denim short shorts.

It’ll do. 

You yank them on and fish for a nice-looking top, maybe something cute?? You’ve known Reacher for months now and you know he’s not gonna be doing any dressing up. So you just decide on a Rolling Stones t-shirt that you’d cropped a while ago. It’s a bit tattered and old but damn does it make your shorts look even cuter. 

You root around in the bottom of your closet for your cowboy boots, your dad had given them to you for Christmas years ago and they were still the best pair of shoes you owned. They withstood anything you threw at them, you dust them off and slip those on before going to the mirror.

You shoot off a picture to Neagley and wait for her to respond as you look around for a bag to use. You’re knee-deep in the mess when your phone goes off, after a hearty laugh at your cowgirl aesthetic, she tells you how cute you look. You send her back the sweetest video of you flipping her off! 

You’re busy grumbling and shoving stuff into your green bag, the one with all the pockets and patches on it when your doorbell rings. 

You snatch your phone from your bed, two o’clock exactly.

Of course, he’s on time. 

You throw the rest of your crap in and push yourself up off the floor.

“Coming!!!” 

Reacher stands outside your door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bunch of wildflowers he’d grabbed on the way over, roots and all. He picks at a few of the roots as he hears a weird crashing noise from inside before the door suddenly swings open. 

You brush the hair out of your face and lean awkwardly against the doorframe. 

“Hey!”

“Hey… did you- did you just fall down the stairs?” He looks over your head into your house and you pull the door shut just a little 

“….Just the last couple ones. Anyway are those for me!??” You take them from him and even if they’re a bit ridiculous you can feel your heart soaring because he’d decided to do it in the first place.

“Uh- yeah, you know, mom always said never to show up at a lady's house empty handed” 

“She’d be really proud of you” You positively beam as you step aside. “Here, come in!! I’ll put these in water and then we can go!” 

He follows you inside and shuts the door as you bounce off to the kitchen, he shamelessly watches your hips swaying in those tiny shorts. He’d never actually seen you in civilian clothing…it looks good on you. 

You grab an odd-shaped bowl you’d lost the lid to a long time ago and fill it with water from the fridge.

“These are really pretty… I like lavender!” You carefully place the roots in the bowl to keep them alive for now and turn to him. 

“So I was thinking maybe we could-“ You’re interrupted by your phone ringing, you look at it curiously before sighing.

“It’s my mom, just give me a second” 

“Take your time” 

As much as he wants, to he doesn’t eavesdrop. Instead, he just looks around your house… it’s nice, very colorful, and very put together. He likes the little tea and coffee bar you have set up, he wanders into the living room and looks over all the pictures you have around your house. 

Apparently, you were an only child unless you hate your siblings that much, he’s just pulling some book off your shelf with a blue alien on the cover when you come back in.

“So hey- what are you doing??” your heart stops in your chest and he pushes the spine back into place. 

“Nothing. What’s up?” 

You take a second to freaking breathe before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“So, I guess my mom’s school is having a bake sale? And she wanted my help and-“

“What are we making?” 

You blush and shake your head, your curls bouncing “No I couldn’t ask that of you” you laugh a little “We can just go to dinner later if you’d like” 

“I’d like to help you. I’d like to spend time with you no matter what we’re doing” 

“Really? Even if it’s making peach pies? That’s what she asked for”

“Especially if we’re making peach pies” 

You hand Reacher a notepad and a pen and start going through your cabinets and making a list of everything you’ll need to get from the store, which he’s already made sure you knew he was taking you there too, and get ready to go. You grab your bag from the chair and reach out, he hands you the notepad and you stuff it in your bag before reaching out again. He hands you the pen and you roll your eyes, putting that in your bag too before reaching out one more time.

He looks around himself, there’s nothing else you could want?? Unless you want like… a glass of water or something… 

You sigh and take his hand, pulling him from your kitchen and out front to his car. 

“His” car could fit your car at least 650 times inside it, he walks ahead of you, opening the door for you and you blink. 

“You could fit the entirety of the Miami Dolphins in here”

“I feel like that’s not true” 

You hoist yourself up into the cab and he stands behind you, making sure you don’t fall back out, as soon as you’re situated he comes around and gets in himself. He really fits the car, he fills the seat out so nicely, that you look away when he looks over at you with a smirk. 

“Buckled in?” He asks as he turns it on and you nod 

“All set” 

He backs out of the driveway and you’re off,  you feel weirdly small in the seat, your feet just barely rest on the ground when you sit back fully, you’re looking out the window when you feel his heavy hand rest on your thigh, you look over and his palm is facing upward, he doesn’t look at you but you smile anyway and take his hand, wrapping your fingers around his. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand until you pull away from him to grab a cart to push around, you hand him the list and he goes through it with you, it’s so oddly domestic in the way you’re shopping together, he reaches things on the high shelves for you, his body pressed into yours each time, even with the tiny shorts on you’re starting to feel hot. 

Every item he puts in the cart gets a stupid pun out of you, and after you wheeze out the last sugar joke he can’t help but crack a smile, you squeal and beat on his arm.

“I knew I could make you laugh!!”

“I wouldn’t call that a laugh”

You shake his arm and he snickers because he’s moving for you. You skip ahead of him, pretty damn proud of yourself and he watches you, there’s a weird ache in his chest every time he looks at you, especially while you’re dramatically spinning around in the aisles and being an all-around idiot as you sing and dance along to the music playing in the store. 

As you stand in line for the checkout you go over the list, making sure you’ve got everything.

“Crap we forgot vanilla… how could we forget vanilla??? Hey Reacher, do you mind-“

“Aisle three right? I’ll be right back” He’s already jogging off as you scoot ahead in line, you start putting things on the belt and greet the cashier before standing and waiting for your things to be rung up. You tap the little ledge waiting patiently as “Mike” rings up your groceries.

“So you gonna be doing some baking?” He asks as he puts the flour in a bag for you and you nod

“Oh yeah, for my mom's bake sale” 

“Oh that’s cool, so you’re from around here? I see you shop here often” 

“Uh…yeah I guess” You chuckle awkwardly as you pull out your card waiting for your total, he seems to be taking his sweet time ringing you up.

“I’m just getting settled in myself, had this job for about a month... I’m not really sure of any good places to eat, maybe I could pick you up sometime? We could go out somewhere?” 

“Uh-“ 

“Her date nights are taken” 

Reacher puts the comically tiny bottle of vanilla down on the belt and you look up at him, he places his hand on your lower back and takes your card from you, patting your butt to move you along

“Let’s hurry up and get out of here, I’m not having my mother-in-law kill me because I’m late with some pies.” 

Mike looks like he’s just shit his pants as he scans the vanilla, suddenly he can’t get you out of the store fast enough. Reacher holds your hand at the same time he pushes the cart out to the car, he helps you in again and puts the groceries in the backseat before getting in the car.

“Mother-in-law?” You take his hand before he even offers it and he scoffs, but you can see the light blush on his cheeks.

“I’m not lettin’ some punk creep hit on you” 

“Oh is there like, a particular reason?” You draw shapes on the smooth skin of his hand and he shrugs 

“What’s that mean? You’re the one that asked me out.” 

Your mouth drops and he snickers, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. 

You grow pouty as you walk into your house, he carries the bags in and sets them on the counter. He crosses his arms and leans back as you begin to unpack the bags, his eyes narrow and you turn to him.

“What?” 

“How are you making peach pies, without peaches?” 

He pushes himself up off the counter and comes up behind you, your breath hitches as he reaches in the bags and finishes unpacking for you. 

“You done pouting?” 

“If I say no?” You crane your neck to look up at him and he leans down, kissing your forehead 

“I have ways of putting a smile back on your face”

You look down slowly, your eyes widening and his chest rumbles as he chuckles. He pulls you back into him, rubbing your sides and you squirm a little.

“So, peaches?” 

His chest is hard against your back, you put your hands over his as he wraps them around your waist. 

“I have a tree, in back?” He doesn’t let you go so you shuffle to turn you both around and look out of your kitchen window, a large peach tree sits in the back corner of your yard, there’s a swing attached to it and a blanket on the ground beneath that

“You want help picking?” He bends down to rest his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your ear as he asks in hushed tones. Your face heats up and you turn your head, staring into those gorgeous blue eyes. 

“That would be nice… thank you” 

Instead of being a normal person, and reaching for the peaches, Reacher puts you on his shoulders, his hands firmly holding you in place as you toss peaches down into a basket, cheering each time you make it in, while he laughs every time you miss. 

“Hey…” He taps your thigh and you look down at him for a moment, pushing his short hair back and messing it up a little. 

“What’s up?” You go to toss a few more peaches in, frowning when you miss the last one.

“What was your first impression of me?” 

“What?” You laugh a little, giving his hair a small tug in the right direction and he brings you closer to the tree

“What was your first impression??” 

“What was yours” you counter 

“I thought you were pretty, still do.” 

“Oh… well- that just kinda makes mine seem stupid” 

“I highly doubt that” He chuckles “C’mon…tell me” 

“I for sure thought you were going to throw me through the wall” 

“I’m sorry what?” You feel him chuckle and you smack the top of his head 

“Don’t laugh at me!! You’re like… the size of a small bus or something!” 

“A small bus??” 

“Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong?!” 

“Jesus I wasn’t gonna hurt you! I’m not that intimidating!” 

“I know that now!! Now you’re just a teddy bear… with really big arms” 

“I’m not-“

“You’re just the biggest sweetie” You purr “Always a gentleman, you bring me snacks!” 

“You do like your snacks” He walks you over to another branch and you smile. 

“You even make sure I’m staying hydrated, you just- you come to see me so often” 

“I like bein’ around you what can I say”

“You do? really?” 

“Thought I made that real clear when I let that asshole know who you belonged to” 

Your eyes widen as you keep quiet, he snickers and brings you over to the last branch where you distractedly pick a couple. 

You’re turning one in your hand, looking it over when he rolls his eyes 

“You gonna toss it in or not?” 

“How could you even ask me that?” You put it down in front of his face and turn it for him “Look at how soft and luscious this looks! Look at the color!”

He’s slowly stroking your thighs as he listens to you explain why it’s the perfect peach, he can feel the vibrations of you talking and the way you wiggle in excitement, completely secure, knowing he won’t drop you. You take a big bite of it and moan softly, your eyes roll back and you nod appreciatively.

“Oh yeah, oh this is good, mhm. You want some? Have you ever had peaches?” 

Reacher carefully moves one of your legs off his shoulders, taking you down carefully so your legs wrap around his waist.

“Not really no” 

He leans in, capturing your lips in a blazing kiss. It's passionate and hungry, filled with all the pent-up desire he's been apparently holding back. Your hands tremble as they clasp around his neck, his tongue dips into your mouth, tasting the sweet peach on your lips. 

Oh, okay, yeah it did taste good. 

“W-what… what was that for?” You mumble dizzily as he pulls away and he looks at you, his eyes staring at your lips again.

“You asked if I wanted some” 

“Oh…okay” 

“Again?” 

You nod dumbly and cup his face, bringing him back to you, your fingers thread through the dirty blonde hair and you tug lightly. He groans against your lips, kissing you deeper. 

“Harder” He growls into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip and you gasp, pulling at his hair harder and he grins, hoisting you up higher in one arm before squatting down and grabbing the basket of peaches.

“Don’t we have work to do?” 

“After that? Are you kidding me??” 

He carries you back into your house and sets you down on the counter before going to your large sink and dumping them all in to wash like he hadn’t been just about to toss you onto the ground outside and take you right there like some kind of wild animal. 

“Doesn’t your mom need this by like… a time that you didn’t tell me”

You giggle and cross your leg over the other, leaning back on your palms, you’re purposely displaying your body for him and he knows it. He turns to you, his hands on his hips

“Are you propositioning me?” 

“I am, yes” 

“Oh okay I was just making sure” 

He wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, he’s in front of you in two large steps and you scramble back a little on the counter, he grins darkly as he grabs your thighs, pulling you back to the edge of the counter. 

“Now you want to run? Oh Princess, no. You want it, don't you? You want me to take you hard and fast, to make you mine."

You nod quickly, your cheeks on fire as he lifts your hips and yanks your shorts down in one easy swoop. He stares at the silky red panties for a moment and you blush. 

“I-I wanted to kinda hype myself up you know?” 

“I think it was a good decision” he can see the small wet patch on the front of them, and he smirks at how wet you are 

"Fuck, you're dripping for me already, aren't you? Such a needy little thing."

He rubs your slick folds teasingly, avoiding your aching clit and you whine, spreading your legs for him more. He pulls you down to him, kissing your neck as he fumbles with his jeans, pushing them around his hips. He grinds against you, his clothed cock creating delicious friction against your clit and your back arches with the counter. 

You both moan as he grinds against you, dry humping you into the counter, you claw at his shoulders, your body trembling beneath his. 

“That’s my good girl, you want my cock? Hm? You wanna beg me for it, little thing?” 

Your head falls back against the counter as you grind against each other, his large cock throbs between your legs and you reach down as far as you can, tugging at his boxers.

“Please, Reacher? Please please-“ You gasp, your voice stuttering as he ruts harder against you “F-fuck me” 

“I won’t be gentle” He kisses the shell of your ear, turning you over and putting you against the counter. 

“I don’t want you to be” 

He notches the swollen head of his dick at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock 

"So fucking tight and wet for me. You were made for my cock, weren't you?"

He sinks inside you, working you slowly for a minute, with shallow thrusts to get you used to his size. It doesn’t surprise you in the least that he’s that big you’re surprised you’re not splitting at the seams. Your eyes roll back as he thrusts in and out, in and out. Eventually, that slow pace starts to speed up, you mewl into the cool countertop beneath you and he grins wickedly. 

“All you had to do was ask” 

One hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise while the other tangles in your hair, yanking your head back as he rails you from behind. 

"Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch like the desperate little slut you are."

You cry out his name, gripping the other edge of the counter helplessly, every hard thrust sends you flying forward as he rearranges your guts in the middle of the kitchen. He pulls you up to his chest, crossing both arms over your chest and using you like a toy. 

"You like this, don't you?" he growls in your ear. "Being bent over and fucked like a cheap whore in your own kitchen. I bet you've fantasized about it, haven't you? Imagined me taking you hard and fast, giving you what you really need."

Months of pent-up sexual tension, lingering touches, and stares, all come together as he takes it out on you. His hips snap roughly against yours, the lewd sounds echoing around the kitchen. 

His hand reaches down between your legs, working your clit in time with his thick cock and you’re nearly gone. You hold onto his arm as you feel his balls slapping against your soaked cunt with each thrust, they’re so large and heavy, the sensations driving you crazy. 

Your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing him like a vice. He groans, holding back his own release, as you pant out how close you are.

“Fuck Reacher, I-I’m gonna cum, oh god”

He smiles, squeezing you closer to him "Gonna fill this tight little cunt with my cum. Breed you like the needy slut you are."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, letting out a guttural moan as he explodes inside you, setting off a sort of chain reaction as you scream his name, cumming with him. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, marking you as his as he fucks you through your high. 

His hips slow down, moving you up and down his cock before he pulls out. You collapse against the counter, your mouth dropping as you hear his cum plopping on the floor beneath you, dripping from your abused cunt. 

He sets you down on your feet, holding onto you tightly as he slowly goes down to the floor and lets you fall into his arms, your legs too jello-y to keep you standing. 

He cradles you close to his chest, panting harshly as he leans against the cabinets. 

“So… that was great” 

You nod fast, snuggling into his chest “Really great. Do you want to move in?” 

You knew his situation, everyone knew his situation, you knew he would still be himself and he knew you’d still be you.

And you wanted him to move in with you. 

“Yeah okay.”

It takes a half hour for either of you to want to move, Reacher eventually slouched down so far he’s laying flat on his back with you on his chest. He draws little shapes on your bare skin as you lie on the floor together.

“Have you mopped recently?” 

You swat at his chest and he snickers 

“I’ll have you know I just did yesterday!” 

“You missed a spot” he points to the puddle on the floor and you slap his chest again.

“Reacher!!” 

You smile as you take the money from the little girl and hand it to Reacher, he stuffs it in the cash box in his lap and you hand her a peach pie. 

“Have a nice day!” You wave as she runs off. Your mother comes over, looking over the table, most of your pies were sold out by now and she wanted you to make a second batch.

“Things are going well! We might just be able to afford that new playground by the end of the month. Hopefully, you’re feeling better honey, are you sure you should be working after you fell down the stairs?” 

Your cheeks flush deeply and Reacher snorts, That was the only excuse you could think of when you showed up limping to the bake sale and Reacher decided to just carry you the rest of the way to the table. 

“I’m sure! I’m perfectly fine, Reacher is taking care of me” 

“That’s for damn sure” He mumbles under his breath as he takes a sip from his water bottle. You elbow him in the side and he snickers

“Thanks for taking care of my little girl Mr. Reacher” Your mother smiles and you shrink down in your seat as he grabs one of the peach pies, eating nearly half of it in one bite.

“Oh, believe me, ma’am, the pleasure is all mine.” 

[sewinrat]

What if the reader is Randal's twin sister that is always calm and quiet but yet more intimidating than the rest of the ivory household and is always abusing or scaring Sebastian?

It's just something I made up in my head! 😭

Only if you have the chance to do so, of course!

Hey I know I disappeared but I'm going to break my own rule to give you all content

*Reader implied to be female. Also this will not be a fic, just those headcanons thingy

Being Randal's More Intimidating Twin Sister;

Goodness, Randal would never have a boring day if he decides to watch your torture sessions daily

He definitely doesn't like how quiet you are but Nyen and Nyon are the same and he doesn't have a not-fun day watching them so he lets it be. But he's definitely forcing you everywhere with him. You are his twin after all and two is better than one as the humans say!

Clothing wise I'd say a Japanese school girl outfit with blazer and wearing gloves to match Randal's outfit. Honestly it doesn't matter what you want to wear as long as the colour is inverted of Randal's. White outfit and black gloves. You wear glasses but most often contact lenses. The feeling of them intrigued you but glasses are also usually a hindrance in your day to day activities.

The day when Luther gifted the both of you a human pet, you are ecstatic. Your face doesn't show but Randal knows and he's ecstatic as electric as well. Both of you have the dynamic of Maud and Pinkie that's why he can tell. The day after that is the day Sebastian the human pet learns true fear.

You are unnerving and rightfully so. Especially when you keep chasing after him with those garden shears. If Randal has scissors, you have bigger scissors. You like to snip snip Sebastian's body parts. Hair, legs, hand, you get the point. You won't necessarily kill him on purpose, only by accident but Luther will stop you when Sebastian's at the brink of death. Which he wished for more than escaping after weeks upon weeks of torture. Too bad Randal is enjoying this too much which encourages your behaviour.

More often than not, Luther had to tell you to clean up your mess after you finish your fun activity. He doesn't encourage it but he doesn't stop you as well because in his words, who is he to stop his little sister discovering her hobbies and enjoying them.

Two peas in a pod the both of you. It doesn't matter how different you both are, you're still twins. If anyone knows anything about twins, is that somehow they have a deeper bond than with anyone else around them. If you mess with one of them, you have to deal with the other or together if you wanna get messy.

Nyen won't say it out loud obviously but he much prefers you over Randal if we're talking about violence and perfect fit to be the next heir if it ever comes to that. I mean obviously because we're speaking the American cat here. If he's 'lucky', you might spar him one on one. Nyon on the other hand definitely avoids you like the plague. Not a fighter and definitely does not want to be your next experiment but too bad for him, you're still above him in ranks.

Satoru won't favour you more than Randal but he'll definitely ask for your help to make him 'real' to which you happily complied. Remember that spider girl in Vol.2 and Avalona Mercury? Yeah they're your besties. Don't ask how but they just naturally are. Unless you're someone who seeks to pursue a relationship with one of them which I guess go off. No one really cares.

Known as well as the ratmen's worst nightmare. They wish to never come across you ever or else they're better off as a taxidermy head on top of a fireplace. Even if there's a slight chance they'll be let off uninjured, there's a high chance they'll end up getting owned or dead.

Wednesday Addams kinnie I just realised but hey maybe that's what you wanted.

Randal would definitely dragged you into his own mess by making you dress up as him and take the blame. Sometimes you let him do whatever he wants, other times he ends up bloodied.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "You've met my twin?! Oo! Oo! How are they?! Did you have fun with her?! She's really fun to play with especially with those shears of hers!" Excited to rant about his twin. Get comfortable or not because he can go on and on and on.

Luther: "Ah yes. She's quite a delight isn't she? I just wish she wouldn't leave such a bloody mess everywhere and anywhere she wants but oh well~ I can't stop her from enjoying what she loves doing." Dismissive yet acknowledged. Just don't get blood on the new carpet or curtains and you're good like you're avoiding angering your mother too much but brother instead.

Nyen: "Would love to fight against once. With her next in line, everything will definitely turn for the worst but it'll be very fun." Nothing else to say except he gives more respects to you than to Randal but won't admit it.

Nyon: Like I said, avoids you like the plague. It got to the point where he can't come up with an opinion on you because his mind goes automatically to 'avoid her alert'. That's not to say he hates you, he could never hate his master's family, he just rather not be under your torture sessions.

Sebastian: "Please don't tell me she's behind me." Shivering scared little thing. He likes his limbs to be intact 24/7 of course so even by the mention of you have his thoughts rapidly flashed the flight or fight instinct. But it's only flight no fight. He's not that bold.

Bonus! Tsukada Satoru: "Randal's twin is nice. She helps me when I needed her most especially when it comes to hurting. Glad to see her interacting well with those two." He's too much focused on Randal to care but since you're Randal's other half, his literal twin, he has to care enough about you.

[moonshynecybin]

Hey! Just wanted to say I’m in awe of how your writing it’s just so GOOD and FUN and TORUROUS. It’s rly hard to nail the voices and dialogue of characters (especially when writing them speaking in english!) but you always make it so believable. Ur Vale especially is sooo charismatic which like hats off bc a more mercurial man has not been made. 

Re ur charged-airport-conversation fic, I’m intrigued to find out how Marc will handle his sexuality crisis. Will he be in denial? does he very seriously study gay culture like telemetry data? is he getting Grindr? is he seeing it as something to incorporate into his PT routine & somehow translate this to a competitive edge? how did he feel about the pope saying frociaggine????

Also I loved the goofy brother shenanigans, Alex strongest most patient and silliest man alive truly. Extremely funny to think of Alex “please get a girlfriend you’re 30 and annoying me” Marquez having to cope with Marc coming back like “I found one! :3” holding hands with Cervera’s enemy #1 undisputed champ 2015-2024

Anyways, would love to hear any thoughts u had but no pressure! I just wanted to thank u for ur brilliant mind & forget about whatever fresh hell that sprint was 

this one. is one that i plan to maybe actually and fr write out so i shant answer in full because i hope that you'll find out eventually. um. i CAN give you chapter two! of THIS fic where Marc and Vale get stuck in an airport and have a somewhat fraught little bonding session. i have not proofread this OR reread the original so if there's inconsistencies just chill out. theres also a lot of liberties taken with the amount of privacy these guys have on a given race weekend again just chill out. please. they live in different countries and are bitter rivals its hard to get them alone into fictional scenarios. its about 1.4k.

(Part ONE !)

The next time he sees Vale is in the paddock.

It's not unusual to see him— the paddock is small and Vale is always a presence, felt even when he’s gone, indelible—but it’s on the television more often than not these days. Maybe a glimpse of him zooming around on his scooter, ignoring the swing of the camera phones tracking him in his wake. But it’s not like this, never this close up. Vale maintains distance, and Marc has adapted to take his cues from that same distance. He’s not going to be the first to engage, not anymore. 

All that being said, Marc is trying to grab some alone time in between sessions, communing with his lunch and contemplating ways to improve his breaking into Turn 11. He’s tucked into a shady place out of the way, generally out of the range of any stray cameras, when Vale catches him, sliding next to him on the table and leaning forwards on his elbows.

He starts picking at Marc’s food.

Marc reacts reflexively, not even processing that it's Vale who’s at his elbow who is reaching over to snag a bit of his chicken. He lifts his bowl out of reach like he would with Alex. “Hey— that's mine,”

Vale’s game, apparently, shooting him one of those dangerous grins, eyes crinkling at the sides towards Marc like he hasn’t seen in years. He’s brimming with the confidence of someone used to getting away with breaking rules. Marc puts down his food. Lifts a hand, adjusts the cap at the top of his head, and tucks his hair behind his ear. 

This means something. He doesn’t know what.

“Allora, you were not eating it.”

And Marc has always been easy for it—the simple skill he has in spinning a situation into the brightest version of itself, mood turning on a dime. Even when he was destroying Marc, he would do it with a smile. 

It’s that same silverbright thread that makes Marc laugh, disbelieving, a shock of delight. He shoves at the edge of Vale’s arm, jockeying with his elbow. He bites his lip, shakes his head. Would you look at that?

“Presumptuous,” Marc scolds, and tucks back into his lunch, forking another bite into his mouth. Vale grins and leans closer, conspiratorial. That same hot, embarrassed feeling from the airport rears its head, giddy. Marc glances around. There’s no one here. He feels like there is. LIke there’s eyes on them, even though he’d chosen a place where there shouldn't be.

It feels like crossing a line, teetering on the edge of some cliff, one toe over the edge. Hot and anticipatory in the pit of his stomach. There’s a breeze going, and he shivers. Vale leans closer.

He likes it. 

He also knows that he shouldn't like it. He’s gone through this song and dance before. This feeling, this hero worship that he has with Vale never leads him down any good road. He thought– six premier class titles and nearly ten years of vitriol had been an effective cure. Not so, he’s finding out.

Vale corrects, “I see what I see. This I cannot help.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve been watching me?

Vale shrugs, steals another bite. “You do manage to put on a good, ah, show.” He finds the words in Spanish. Marc can’t remember the last time they spoke in Spanish.

Marc takes a breath in. Settles himself. He doesn’t know what the end goal is here. Curiosity wins out— it’s better than wondering why Vale’s here in the first place. What game he’s trying to play. What he thinks he’ll get out of being nice to Marc, aside from that shivery feeling clawing its way up the base of his spine. He should really at least find out if he’s doing this because he plans on not being nice to Marc. 

“How did you find me?” Is what he goes with. Neutral enough. 

“You are not hard to find.” The answer is vague, but frank. Vale loves to speak around things.

Marc raises an eyebrow, decides to just keep looking at him. They both know he’s bullshitting. Vale breaks, and makes a face, shrugging.

“I have been racing here longer than you. I know the hiding spots.”

Marc gives him a minute roll of the eyes. It's still not an answer. “You know, they remodeled not too long ago. The entire layout changed.” Vale would’ve had to work to find him. 

“Not too much!” Vale spreads his palms cheerfully, seizing on a diversion. “The bones are still the same. The stands are over there,” he juts a thumb, “The pits are here. The bathrooms change, but bah. It’s a facelift.”

Marc wrangles down a smile. Vale’s not being serious— he’s being fun. Maybe he’s trying to get him comfortable for some reason. “A lot changes, I think.” He says frankly, and he means it. 

Vale’s eyes flash. He sees Marc’s conviction, catches the double meaning. Another one of their conversations centering around two different issues on the surface, but coming back to their history all the same. The elephant in the room butting into other topics. History, division, and rivalry, all sneaking its way into the cracks in their words. 

Vale keeps going, the lead in their little play.

“Maybe. But it’s not— like, aerodynamics, new regulations, new tires— all that changes. Small stuff.  Opinions, riders. But it is still a paddock. I’ve been in paddocks my entire life. You can’t change much.”

Things change a lot, in Marc’s experience. People. Teams. Bodies. 

Friendships.

And Marc is brave usually, has made a career out of it, so he feels like he has to ask. No use avoiding it and feeling half out of his skin for the rest of the day. Vale’s knee bumps into his own and he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them Vale is already looking at him

“Why are you here?” He levels.

Vale throws him a soft smile. It comforts exactly no part of Marc.

“Maybe I was looking for a hiding place.”

Marc hesitates, choosing his words carefully. It’s always a spar with Valentino; even when they were friendly, they were still competing.

“Am I the hiding place?”

“Well, I am still more famous than you, is true. Less photographers on you than me. It’s peaceful.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Now there’s a good question.” Vale says, stealing something else off of Marc’s plate. “Today? I was hungry. I thought I’d stop by and eat with an old friend.” The words jolt through Marc like a highside. He’s in the air— lost, flying, falling. 

Vale stands, towering. He claps Marc on the shoulder. It burns white hot. Marc keeps his eyes on him, trying to catch a hint, a clue as to how this all happened. 

An old friend.

“Is that what we are?” He asks, more earnest than he should be. Vale can be such a bastard.

“Well, what would you call it?” He responds, turning the question on Marc, voice quiet. Serious, like he knows whatever hangs between them is as thin as a spiderweb. Marc swallows.

“I don’t know,” Marc answers. still too honest, even now. Something flickers on Vale’s face, too quick and complex for him to read. 

“Think about it.” Vale prompts, and walks away.

Marc finds out that they weren’t alone, in that section of the paddock the next day. The pictures hit the news after the race, headlines rolling in thankfully after Marc has left for home. Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez sharing lunch, alone on a race weekend ten years after their falling out. What could it mean? 

But Marc’s eyes look at the photo and just catch on Vale’s shoulders, leaning towards Marc, the palm of his hand, arcing through the air as he gestures, frozen on the screen of his phone, and himself, eyes crinkled at the corners. He was wrong. He didn’t manage to reign in that smile after all. 

FRIENDS AGAIN?, the headline asks, and Marc wonders.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oooh myyy gossshhh!! Its 1k Follower Event already!!! Huge CONGRATS! 🥳

Can't waiiiit. 🤯

Gloom love, can u pls oh pls do a headcanon on thorin oakenshield & his female queen's JEALOUSY! 🔥😈❤️‍🔥

Thank you!! I know, right?! 1k followers already?? It’s more than that now, but my goodness, it’s certainly a milestone. I am so thankful for you and for everyone who interacts with my works here on Tumblr and over on Ao3. It’s such an honor, and I appreciate all of you so so much.

I am going to tackle this prompt in two ways. The first, is through Thorin’s jealous. And the second, through reader’s jealously. While I am personally meh about jealously, with the right scenarios, I think it really works. This is my little offering to you, anon. I hope you enjoy it!

There are some spicy elements to this but it’s all fairly non-descriptive. So, per that warning, MDNI.

1k follower event rules

King Thorin Oakenshield x Queen Reader

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

Thorin’s jealous tendencies come from a place of loss. He has had so much taken from him over his life that he tends to see threat even if there is none. It’s almost like a defensive response to the world around him, but Thorin is absolutely working on it. Sometimes he is consciously aware of it, and other times he isn’t.

When it comes to his wife and queen, Thorin is more likely to be jealous when someone oversteps. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, but that he doesn’t always trust others. There are plenty of people who do overstep, but Thorin knows that those individuals mean no harm. This happens a lot with the original company. They will often flirt and tease you, but it’s all good-natured and Thorin doesn’t feel threatened by them.

That is not the case with men that Thorin doesn’t know or trust. He is much more conscious of their presence and how they interact with you. But Thorin is respectful. He won’t ever throw a punch or become angry. He might shove himself into the conversation or place a hand on you to indicate who you belong to.

Any energy Thorin feels he will want to put into reminding you that you’re all his. Not that you don’t already know that, but Thorin finds expelling that energy into a more intimate outlet is the only way he can work through it. Sometimes it’s sweet, and other times it is rough and fast. There might be firm grips, and harsh growls. But Thorin is always gentle afterward. He just needs to be inside his queen.

Now, the other way around? Reader does it to tease Thorin, to make it a game, and he is a full participant that enjoys it too. Disregarding the above section about Thorin (that doesn’t matter here in this bit), Thorin loves to fuel that jealous side because he knows it only results in you taking it out on him in the bedroom.

And not in a “how could you” way, but in a “I’m jumping on you the moment the door closes” way.

It fuels a possessive, protective side for the both of you, and only reinforces what the two of you already have. Thorin purposefully stokes the flames because it riles you up. It’s almost like foreplay for the two of you. It’s staged, but oh so fun.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos @hantheconqueror

[cecilysass]

Undercover Smolder Mulder: Pine Bluff Variant Fic Recs

I'd describe Pine Bluff Variant as a low key fan favorite, an episode that I even feel like appreciation has grown for over the years. Oh sure, it doesn’t get the fan love that a Memento Mori or Pusher might, but we sure do see those Mulder Scully intense looks gifs popping up pretty often, right? Plus, it has partner trust angst, undercover intrigue, hurt/comfort, genuine thriller-style suspense, and serious MSR overtones.

I like PBV for all of those reasons obviously, but also because it feels like the show going with a slightly different tone. Starting from its action-based, FBI operation cold open, we know this is more conspiracy / bioterrorist thriller than classic X-file. Yes, there’s a sci fi component to the biotoxin--and the scenes that reveal its victims have a horror feel--but this episode just isn’t as much about the supernatural. It also raises the interesting--and nowadays more pointed--question: aren’t anti-government groups operating under their own rules sometimes potentially as dangerous as the government itself?

TXF tried several kinds of experiments in its later seasons, in production and structure of show (Triangle or X-Cops), in exploring all kinds of playful, self-aware and satirical comedy (lots of season 6, Hollywood A.D., etc.), in making drastic moves with its mytharc (One Son, Requiem, etc). Going in the direction of a more purely action-suspense thriller for a MOTW wasn’t something they ever tried again (that I can think of anyway). And I think that's kind of a shame? It feels like a good change up. Different without messing too much with the show’s basic DNA.

Not to mention, y'all, Scully thinks he betrayed her! And there's the scene with the finger! And Mulder thinks he's going to die! There's so much good stuff here!

Here is a list of Pine Bluff Variant fic recs. (As usual, I really think there should be more. This episode has sooooo many openings. You should write some.)

Calling Bluffs - mangokiwitropicalswirl An angsty little post ep that doesn’t flinch from the way coming close to death affects Mulder (or Scully). It also raises the question of how much their bond always puts them at risk. Moving ending.

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before - pinebluffvariant Immediately post ep, Scully protects Mulder. There is some satisfying hurt/comfort. But what really shines in this fic is the ending, which ties a nice bow on season 5 and kicks me in the feels. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, indeed: sniff.

Passing Solace - DarlaBlack An intensely romantic NC-17 scene set in the middle of the episode, focused on their deep care and need for one another. Beautifully written.

All of This (around) Us - secondsflat In this sweet fic they share whiskey before Scully sets his finger bone, and Scully voices her frustration at not knowing about his undercover work. An intimate, atmospheric little scene.

Snakebitten - onpaperfirst This is a riff on all of season 5 written with great skill and subtlety. So, so good. It’s canon divergent in that it seeds the Pine Bluff Variant / New Spartans storyline back earlier in the season—and it has more RST. Such a treat.

Postcards Slipped Under the Door - skuls Two years after Pine Bluff Variant, some time after the events of En Ami in season 7, Mulder begins receiving ominous postcards from the New Spartans, suggesting they have regrouped. Skinner and Scully think it’s too dangerous for him to get involved in the case again, so Scully goes instead. This is hard on Mulder, as they’re in a recently begun relationship. Angsty, plot-driven, satisfying.

[little-pondhead]

So, for the Supervillain Danny and Everlast Trio Villains Au's....

What about Jazz?

Since I understand everyone's villain alter ego is based around their trauma and becoming their own antithesis and what not, I'd like to think that Jazz's alter ego would be a bad girl, kinda like Ember and Kitty (the former who mind controlled her twice and the latter who almost took her place while slowly corrupting her), maybe with a hint of Spectra (the school councilor thing, the hospital thing, and that one time with all three of them).

Instead of being the nice, normal girl who tries to be perfect, she's a loose cannon who does all the wild teen stuff, doesn't care about anyone accept for those who are in her 'gang', and will absolutely resort to violence the first chance she gets. Maybe she also has some kind of mind control powers, given how these incidents relate to her being under someone else's control.

Maybe she doesn't come around as often, because she has college and the like, but once she does, things get messy as she takes the chance to let out all her school related stress.

you have read my m i n d

Jazz had almost no childhood since she helped raise Danny from a very young age. She's intelligent and respectful and really wants to be an excellent example for Danny, so she acts as such. Therefore, Jazz never got to go through her 'teenage rebellion' phase. She wears modest clothes and upholds a pretty solid moral code. So here I present Nightingale, the punk-rock social justice warrior who comes and goes like a hurricane. She takes on the name Nightingale to avoid confusion, but once the JL realizes she and Fenton are related, some of the members consider going on a very long vacation to another world so they don't have to deal with this shit.

Now for her powerset, I'm not entirely sure if she should play meta or not. It's a common trope in fics that Jazz has been ecto-contaminated from her parent's experiments, thus giving her some sort of body enhancement. I played on that to give her a set of ears and teeth that match Danny's. She may not have ghost powers, but if she's fighting alongside Team Phantom, she must have some freaky abilities, right? (I love the mind control idea, btw) I feel like Jazz would be the Exception, where she's obviously enhanced in some way, but it's not an obvious power she can consciously separate herself from. It's like trying to tell your body to stop using your eyes. Unless other outside forces are preventing it, Jazz can't really not use her enhanced strength or speed. It drives the JL nuts because either Nightingale is a very weak meta or just an Olympic-level teenage athlete, and no one will spill the beans.

Also, this is personal preference, honestly, but I think it'd be really fucking funny if the DC universe is where Jazz and Danny have all their sibling fights. At home, they have to put up a united front so their parents don't get suspicious and the house doesn't kill them. (Also so none of the rogues takes advantage of their anger at each other) But they're siblings. Even if Jazz and Danny are the best of friends, they have to have arguments over the stupidest stuff. That's practically rule number one of having a sibling. So they go there to blow off steam and duke it out like they've always wanted to. It's mostly to release tension and stress, but each fight is getting more and more elaborate, and this whole thing is ridiculous. None of the heroes get paid enough for this. They're just gonna sit back and watch the show.

[pluto-supremacy]

Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ Yes I am breaking my rule of no f!reader because I wanted to write for Vi so bad. So I'm gonna set a new precedent now: I'll write f!reader IF it is a wlw fic/headcanons/whatever. Though this is more of just a lil treat since the brainrot is rotting

➼ Might end up turning this into a full fic, if you want that let me know! (It did! Here's part two)

➼ No beta we die like Sky

➼ Warnings: None!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

Whenever there is free time, Vi is at your side. You two usually find some corner away from the others to try and get away, pretend you two can have a moment to yourselves

She's always giving you her food, you don't even need to ask. She'll happily let you pick at her plate if you're still hungry or you haven't eaten in a while due to lockdown

You're lucky enough to only be two cells away from each other, you two often get in trouble for talking during lights out

If you're ever in trouble, Vi takes the beatings for you. She can and has thrown herself between you and a guard and is not afraid to do it again

Same obviously goes for inmates

"If you want to keep your tongue in your mouth, I suggest you leave her alone"

Though not many inmates mess with you considering your personal body guard of a girlfriend

If you're ever thrown into solitary, Vi goes crazy. Getting into more fights than usual, refusing food, even trying to break into solitary to be with you

If you want, she gives you both matching tattoos there with whatever device she can get her hands on. She lets you pick out the design and the placement

Anytime she gets clean clothes, bandages, and hygiene supplies (all of which are of course a rarity there), she uses them/gives them to you first. Bandages up any new cuts of yours or changes your dirty ones, gives you her new toothbrush and toothpaste, and so on. You'll have to fight her on at least sharing some of the items, like the new tube of toothpaste. She just wants to make sure you're taken care of

"Just scored a new hairbrush. Go ahead and take it, bun. Need to keep your hair brushed so I can play with it, yeah?"

Vi cuts your hair for you there and takes it super seriously. She's not gonna let you walk around with a shitty haircut

Though she did fuck it up once (or a few times, but they were smaller mistakes that were easy to hide)

To make up for that godawful haircut she gave herself a bad one too. It's just hair, after all, it grows back

She'll stand guard while you're showering. Make sure no one's gaze is lingering around on you. Also lets you shower first so if there is any hot water you'll get it

Vi is a portable bed for you. Whenever you're together and you want to rest, she'll try to find a quieter place and let you rest your head on her shoulder/in her lap. She plays with your hair while you're sleeping and checks your pulse every now and then. Just to make sure you're still there with her

Whenever you get sick there, she will make the biggest fuss to get you to medical. If that isn't an option Vi does her best to take care of you with the limited resources you both have

"Snuck a bit of that honey from breakfast. Try and cover your throat in that and don't worry about talking, okay Y/N?"

During bunk inspections, if you have any contraband, Vi takes it and hides it in her cell. She rarely ever gets caught with it, but she'd rather take the punches than have you on the receiving end of them

On the flipside Vi trades a lot of her own contraband to get things for you. Things like snacks, jewelry, hair dye, better clothes, anything other inmates have that you might want

Though if trading for those doesn't work, she will straight up steal them for you

When Caitlyn comes to release her for help with tracking down the stolen gemstone, she throws in a condition. An obvious one

"You're getting Y/N out too. That or you can try to find Silco on your own. Undercity is going to eat you alive without me"

And that's how you and your lover finally escape Stillwater