#like before me I think there may have been one or two fics

[theliliesofthevalleies]

The skeletons wordlessly point around the room as if the reasoning should be obvious. Obviously he had been put in the summoning circle.

Danny puts a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes in contemplation for a moment. He takes in a long deep breath and looks at the skeletons. “And.. no one thought to.. I don’t know.. alert me to the fact that there is a whole living person in the offerings room..?”

All the skeleton’s just shrug and go back to pampering the now stunned and speechless Robin who is staring up at Danny from where he’s seated on the floor. “You’re a lot younger than I thought you’d be. Honestly that’s a relief. I was worried I was being offered as a bride to the ghost king that was going to be like.. old and gross..”

“You were offered as what?! You’re fourteen?!” Danny stares at the teenager no older than himself and crouches down. “What do you mean as a bride for me? Why would they even assume I wanted a child bride…?”

Robin, now removing his mask because, fuck it why not if he’s stuck there might as well, shrugs as he looks back up at Danny now showing him that he is in fact Tim Drake. “Don’t know.. don’t really care. I would however like to get home. My.. adopted father and his other adopted adult child are probably looking for me and considering that the last time a Robin went missing he was murdered.. they are probably losing their minds..”

“Right right.. uh.. well.. I have to ask Clockwork about how to send you back.. because the Infinite Realms sort of identifies you as.. my property now.. and the fact that you are technically dead..” Danny looks like he’s ready to hurl from the thought but he straightens up.

Tim looks up at him with wide eyes and blinks a few times. “I’m dead..?” He pat his own chest and looked at himself all over.

“Only technically.. you were given as an offering.. the only way to send a living being to the Infinite Realms is to kill them.. or half kill them.” Danny thinks for a moment. “Honestly when we get you back. You may only have a half life.. you may be a Halfa now..” He shrugs and starts leaving the room. “Come on. I’m not going to force you to stay locked in here. Though.. m aybe put your mask back on. Some of the residents of the Infinite Realms still like to keep your identities a secret for themselves..”

Tim stands and places his mask back on his face trying ti ignore the reeling in his head from finding out he had apparently died. “So. You already knew who I was..?”

Danny with a dejected look and tears welling up in his eyes. “No.. I was one of the residents that enjoyed keeping your identity a secret. But it’s okay.. you just proved my theory so…”

Tim nods. “Right.. sorry about that..”

They make their way to Clockwork and find out it will take a while to send Tim back home. In the meantime Danny and Tim spend a lot of time together getting to know each other. Danny brings Tim a change of clothes when he comes back from school one day.

By the time they manage to navigate the stupid rules of the Infinite Realms two months later Tim is on the verge of his fifteenth birthday and has realized feelings are starting to bloom in his chest when he sees Danny. They agree to stay in contact and when Tim is dropped off on the day of his fifteenth birthday he leans over and kisses Danny’s cheek before running off to find Bruce and Dick who, as he predicted had in fact lost their minds.

It takes a lot of explaining to get them to calm down and understand that he A.) didn’t run away and get murdered. B.) didn’t die at all. Which Tim knows is a lie but he doesn’t want Bruce and Dick to freak out about him dying. And C.) is very much alive despite the blood loss of cult members trying to sacrifice him to what is essentially a god.

(Idk if op wanted this to turn into ship but I’ve been reading a lot of DannyxTim fics lately and that’s where my brain went. Lol.)

Bonus. When Jason comes back as Red Hood Tim can tell because Jason has a similar aura to Danny. Danny comes to visit and when he sees Jason he tells Tim that Jason has corrupted ectoplasm and he’s not sure how but his core is shattered. Danny and Tim set out to help Jason and they manage to clean his ectoplasm before Jason can bring his who reveal and revenge plan to fruition.

Once his ectoplasm is clean and Danny got his core into mostly one piece Jason all but loses interest in his big dramatic revenge plot so Tim brings him to the manor one day and Bruce freaks out.

Danny and Tim explain to Bruce what was up and that now that his ectoplasm is clean and his core is mostly whole now would be the best time to talk to Jason about all the things Jason is angry about.

(Side note I really like the idea that Danny helps Jason right after the first time he meets him and it freaks Jason out because, why the hell is the replacement and his boyfriend randomly finding him and why is the replacement’s boyfriend shoving his hands in his chest. It sort of freaks him out. But it helps the Pit rage so he honestly lets it happen.)

DPxDC Prompt #17

There is a room Danny's Keep he set up shortly after defeating Pariah Dark. It became necessary when the broader magical community realized Pariah had be defeated and therefore a new King took his throne. Danny found himself briefly bombarded with waves of attempted summonings.

Which, the summonings themselves, wouldn't have been so bad. Turns out people can't just drag the King of Ghosts to themselves on a whim. Danny has to actively accept a summoning to get pulled to it. And if he just decides "No," the pull and whispers go away. No problem there.

No, the problem is the offerings. And sacrifices. The things that people put in the circle as payment for even attempting to summon him. Like having to put a quarter in the payphone just to listen to it ring and ring and ring as the person on the other end of the call doesn't pick up. Since the summoning magic regarded these things as belonging to Danny even if he rejected the summons, they usually ended up just materializing in front of him if he didn't go to them.

Which, okay. It was funny that time he got to end a fight with Vlad very fast when a whole gold bar materialized and dropped on his head. And the food was nice sometimes when it was late and everywhere was closed and his parents had left samples in the fridge to contaminate everything into animation again. But the goat head dropping from the ceiling onto his desk during on of Lancer's English tests was not appreciated. Even if it did get the test rescheduled and the whole school shut down for a few days to investigate the "potentially satanic activity."

So, yeah, it was a bit of a problem. Fortunately, it was a problem with a relatively simple solution. Danny set up an inbox. With a bit of help from Tucker and Pandora, and a couple tips from Clockwork; all summoning offerings and sacrifices would now go straight to the dedicated room in the Keep.

And! As a special touch, the summoners would also get a chipper, automated voice saying, "The Ghost King you are trying to summon has more important things to do than answer you right now. Please leave a message in the circle with your name, date, location, contact information, and reason for summoning. The Ghost King will get back to you at his earliest convenience." Sam's stupid fancy girl gala voice had been perfect for that little message.

It was the perfect solution. Danny no longer had to deal with randomly materializing offerings putting his secret identity at risk. Pariah's skeletons, who had been antsy for something to do now that they were no longer bent under the thumb of a cruel tyrant, were instructed to take care of all the offerings; making sure everything was always cleaned up and put away. And all Danny had to do was stop by periodically to check in and "Officially respond" -ie, write a fuck off note- to the summoning messages (Clockwork's insistence).

A perfect solution. Up until Danny checked in one day to find the skellies pampering a whole ass boy. No. Not just any boy. Danny recognizes that costume.

"Why is Robin here?"

[kykyonthemoon]

A Surprise For Him

After more than a month of training and being apart, you unexpectedly returned to Linkon without notice to surprise him.

୨ৎ. Rafayel x Reader (MC)

୨ৎ. Tags: just pure fluff, cute and sweet, phone calls, no y/n as always

୨ৎ. Word count: ~800w

୨ৎ. Requested by Yuki

୨ৎ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (read more for current status)

Rafayel went home with the beautiful moonlight overhead. The antique camera was slung around his neck. He gripped it in one hand while hastily searching his pocket for his phone. 

The first name that flashed on the screen was undoubtedly the girl he adored the most. He tapped the call button. One beep, two beeps, then three… He waited forever but you didn’t pick up. Rafayel regarded the phone in his fingers with a serious gaze.

You must be busy. With the new training program, the Hunters Association had sent you to another city for two months. Sixty days may not seem like much when compared to the lengthy life of a Lemurian like him, but it did not help the time pass any faster.

Rafayel missed you. He did not even try to hide it. The hour-long calls every night, the emails of encouragement every day, the pictures he took of the beautiful but empty landscape without you… He poured all his heart into them. When you get accustomed to someone's presence in your life, their absence creates an even greater void.

Putting the phone back in his pocket, Rafayel sighed and kept strolling along the lonely street. He fiddled with the camera in his palm, thinking about the photos he had taken at the festival and how he wanted to show you when you returned home. Then his phone rang. 

Rafayel picked up almost immediately.

“Where have you been, my Miss Bodyguard? It’s ten past three. What if something happened to me in those three minutes? Like… I could trip over my paintbrush and fall. Or a thief could steal those precious pictures I wanted you to see, along with my camera…”

“Rafayel!” You giggled on the other end of the phone. “I haven’t forgotten our nightly ten o’clock call.”

“Then what did you do in those three minutes?”

“I… just had some work to do.”

If you were here, you would have seen the sullen look on Rafayel’s face. But he just replied:

“No matter how much work you have, you have to rest on time.”

“I understand. Don't worry.”

You happily told him about your day. Then it was his turn to talk about the festival on the other side of the beach that he had just attended.

“…I took a lot of pictures. I should mail them to you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

Rafayel had just entered the little road leading to his studio. He was a little saddened when he heard that. You quickly added:

“Actually, I want to see the pictures with you by my side.”

"Huh? You mentioned that the facility where you were training was really secure, and I wasn't even permitted to see you," Rafayel recounted what you had said the day you had departed.

“That’s true.”

"So I have to wait another two weeks to see the photos with you?"

A few seconds of silence elapsed. You, like Rafayel, must have sensed that time was moving way too slow. Then, on the other end of the line, you spoke:

“We don’t have to wait that long. We can see them now.”

Rafayel was astonished. He asked: “How? I might not be able to find a seagull that can fly that fast to your side.”

His Miss Hunter chuckled.

"Just open the gate."

Rafayel didn't understand what you meant. However, he was already in front of the studio gate. He recalled locking it before leaving, but a little push revealed that it was wide open. While he was standing there, he heard your voice calling his name.

"Rafayel!"

He heard your call, loud and clear as if you were present and not on the phone. Then, your figure rushed forward from nowhere and your arms were thrown around his neck.

It was you. It was really you.

“Am I in a dream?” Rafayel’s lips moved. He held you tightly, spinning you around with your feet dangling a few inches off the ground. When he put you down, you said, smiling:

“My training wrapped up early. Sorry for not telling you sooner. I wanted to see this surprised face of yours so much.”

You lifted your hands and softly pinched Rafayel's cheeks. As soon as you arrived at the airport, you rushed right to his studio. You were in such a haste that your hair was a mess. Rafayel gently brushed it with his hand, then grinned.

 “Now I'd want to see how frantic you were when you raced here. That would be a sight. Let's go inside. I’ll cook something for you while you take a look at my pictures, okay?”

[selunesdreams]

Eating Crow - Chapter 21: Crow Killer

He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.” She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away.  “Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?” Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze. “A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Lucanis plays the role of damsel in distress.

Word count: 4.7k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: sexual content, blood/gore, graphic violence, death, angst, Dellamorte Drama™ notes: if you have not read Teia/Viago's story in Tevinter nights, there may be some missing context, and I highly recommend reading it if you can! If you need a summary, its in the AO3 summary. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

Read on AO3

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Citizens ambled through the busy Cantori Diamond, occasionally brushing against the shoulders of Rook’s coat as she weaved through the crowd on her way to Viago’s office. Scowls and shouting came from betting tables, while in the darker corners of the casino, men inconspicuously received handjobs or head. Behind her, a drunk was thrown out by the collar of his shirts.

What a lovely place to conduct business.  

Reaching the security staff in front of the stairs, she nodded with impatient acknowledgment. With a grunt, two men stepped aside and let her pass before resuming their post. 

Lucanis had disappeared after their talk in the kitchen, save for a brief interaction where Spite found her in the courtyard, feet dangling over the edge into oblivion. She hadn’t needed to recognize the familiar gait behind her. 

“Hello, Spite.”  “You. Have a prison. Like Lucanis.” He had said. “Shame. Loneliness. Resentment. Crows. Hurt you.” “They hurt Lucanis, too. ”  Spite went silent then, eyes shifting back and forth as he stared into the nothingness below, searching for a way to articulate his thoughts.  “He is afraid. Of losing. Rook.” “I belong to no one.” “Lucanis. is not. Prison!” Frustrated, the demon began to pace. It couldn’t be easy, Rook thought to herself, for a spirit to possess so much knowledge, but have such difficulty communicating through its host. Was he searching through Lucanis’ thoughts like one would a stack of files? Was every motive shared, or could there be secrets kept between the two?  “Lucanis let you in. To HIS prison . Now YOU let HIM in!”

After the outburst, she quickly excused herself from the encounter and went to bed, eager to think about anything else. To her relief, Spite had not followed. Three days had since passed, and when Bellara hadn’t noticed even one stray coffee mug during that time, Rook had a sinking feeling something was terribly wrong. 

“Fi!”

As Rook reached the top of the stairs, Teia jumped down from where she’d been sitting on Viago’s desk, pulling her friend into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, Rook scanned the room, noticing to her dismay that Lucanis wasn’t present, but his cousin was. Legs crossed on a nearby couch, Illario cocked his head with interest as their eyes met. 

“When are you coming home?” Teia asked, pulling back and gripping Rook by the front of her coat. “You can’t just abandon me here with these two again!” 

“Eventually…” Rook glared at Illario until he shamefully redirected his attention to stare at the opposite wall. Carefully, she pried Teia off of her and glanced around the room. “Has Lucanis been by?”

“A contract came in two days ago requesting him specifically.” Viago said, flipping through a newspaper on his desk. “The money was too good to turn down, and he had the time. Apparently, you don’t keep him busy enough.”

“What kind of contract?” Rook asked warily, “Hopefully not one your new assistant is involved in?”

“You think I set him up?” Illario called from his seat, smiling and feigning disbelief as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Enough.” Teia chastised, stepping between them and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Illario is being rehabilitated. Don’t provoke him.”

“I didn’t know you took in strays.” Rook said innocently, returning Illario’s scowl with a mocking smile. “Tell me about Lucanis’ contract.”

“I wasn’t privy to details,” Viago said irritably. “Enzo Cortez requested a meeting.” 

“If it’s so easy, why hasn’t Lucanis completed it yet?”

“Vi, after what happened at the summit with Emil, you don’t think a request for an audience with the First Talon is a reason for concern?” Teia asked. 

Her cousin paused, placing a finger on the news page to hold his place. 

“Enzo doesn’t share his grandfather’s ambitions, and he’s half the assassin Lucanis is. Unless you think his passenger could cause issues.”

“It’s not Spite I worry about,” Rook said, glancing at Illario. “Does the Cortez family ever dabble in blood magic?”

He examined the tip of his glove disinterestedly. “They prefer being mixed up in Antaam business.”

“You failed to mention that.” Viago growled, shaking his head and taking his cloak from where it was draped over a nearby chair. “Forget professionalism. I’d like to check in on this contract .” 

“Wait up.” Teia said, grabbing her knives from the desk. 

“You coming?” Rook asked Illario.

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s an order.” Viago said, thumping the back of his skull and falling in step beside Teia. 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“For someone who claims to have cut ties with the lowlives of this city, you knew exactly where to go,” Rook muttered as Illario led them through Treviso’s warehouse district.

“It’s in the contract, Fiammetta. Unless you’ve forgotten how to read. Is that why you had to change your name to Rook? Fewer letters?”

“Enough. Both of you.” Viago shoved between them and cracked open a metal door. It creaked loudly before falling off the hinges onto the stone floor, sending a resounding slam throughout the rest of the warehouse.

“Announcing your arrival? I like your style.” Teia said, stepping over the rubble and checking the perimeter of the room.

“It’s too quiet here.” The Fifth Talon unsheathed his daggers. “This was supposed to be an easy job.”

As they rounded a corner, they were greeted by several bodies. Rook nudged one with her foot, noting that despite being in full rigor, the corpse hadn’t been cold for more than a day. So, Lucanis had passed through here…but where had he gone after? 

“Over here.” Illario hissed, peeking through a crack in another door. Rook joined him, stepping out onto another rooftop and watching her breath in the cold night air as she surveyed the horizon. She followed Illario’s outstretched finger to a beam connecting two unstable platforms and suppressed a groan of annoyance. Lucanis was never one to take the conventional way in. Which was what made it even more surprising he could be caught at all. Why was this the job he fell short on? 

One by one, the four Crows held out their arms for balance and crossed the beam, hopping off and descending a trellis to the streets below. A large manor towered over them, illuminated from within. 

“This was Emil’s former residence.” Viago noted, dragging a gloved finger over the house number. “Perhaps the warehouses were used by the Antaam.”

“Let’s not bother knocking.” Rook said, pressing her ear to the door and ensuring there was no one on the other side before picking the lock. With a soft click, the knob shifted, and she turned it and slipped inside. 

The Cortez villa held the same strange eloquence that its members carried in their personalities, beneath its state of decline. Lit candles lined the halls, where hand-painted wallpaper peeled where it met the water-stained ceiling. The wooden floors were scuffed and cracked, and the house smelled as if its condition had been deteriorating for some time. 

Silently, Viago motioned for them to follow down a vacant corridor to the right. Daggers drawn, he descended a set of stairs that creaked softly underfoot, no matter how expertly each of the Crows stepped. A damp, sour smell permeated the air and when Rook pulled her hand from the railing, she noticed a smudge of something green and moldy on her gloves. With a grimace, she wiped it on Illario’s jacket, earning herself a dirty look.

Water dripped from the support beams above their heads into puddles strewn across the floor, causing the foundation of the home to rot. Rainwater and canal overflow had been seeping through so long she wasn’t sure how the house was still standing at all. 

Suddenly, Viago stopped in his tracks, staring at something against the wall.  

A support beam on the ceiling had given way at some point, collapsing in a corner. Wrists chained to it, Lucanis’ unconscious form was prone on the floor. As Rook tried to dart forward, Viago caught her by the arm and shook his head.

“It could be a trap.”

“Then you deal with it.” Rook said, tearing herself from her cousin’s grasp and rushing to Lucanis’ side. 

On her knees beside him, she pressed her ear to his chest, feeling its ragged rise and fall and the crackling sound accompanying his every breath. Rook cupped his face in her hands and examined his injuries. He had a black eye and a gash along his cheek that she reached for apprehensively. Lucanis roused at her touch, his eyelids fluttering open, widening in recognition. 

“You…shouldn’t be here.” He rasped. 

“I thought you were untouchable.” She said, blinking back tears as she ran a thumb over his bloodied bottom lip. Her hands moved over his torso where his shirt was splayed open, revealing a bruised and lacerated chest in the dim light.

“Got sloppy.” He said, as he winced, staring over her shoulder at the stairs to where the others stood. “Enzo Cortez’s men are upstairs. And Antaam.” 

Rook looked back at Teia and Viago, who nodded and retreated to the second floor, dragging Illario along with them. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Rook said, propping him up and fumbling with the chains binding his wrists. His chin dipped as he lost consciousness, Spite surfacing under a veil of violet. Slowly, the demon lifted his head, his presence visible in Lucanis’ irises as he assessed her impatiently. 

“Body. Too weak to FIGHT .” 

The demon sounded like a caged animal. It only made sense, after all. A powerful spirit was only physically as strong as its host, and Lucanis had suffered far too many blows and lost too much blood to even stand on his own.

“I don’t need him to fight.” Rook said, her voice cracking as she carefully melted a rusting link in the chain with her fingertips. “I need him to live.”

Upstairs, she heard scuffling against the floorboards and cries of surprise that turned to silence just before a fight broke out. The link finally snapped, hot metal singing her index finger before she flinched and threw the chains across the room. They scratched against the baseboards as she cursed and squeezed her fist tightly. She pulled Lucanis’ arm around her shoulders and struggled to her feet, staggering under his weight until she was able to brace him against the doorframe, smoothing his hair from his face. His skin was clammy underneath her palm.  

“You’re supposed to run away from danger.” He turned to spit blood onto the floor. “Not towards it.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

He huffed weakly, barely mustering the energy to open his good eye to look at her. ”You’re right. You never do what you’re told.” He tried to push her away, but failed, letting out a sharp breath and clutching at his broken ribs. “Most Crows die from mistakes like this.”

“Not you. Not today.” She said, maneuvering him towards the stairs. “We still have a contract.”

“Is that…all…we have?” he asked, his words punctuated by gasps of pain.

“Lucanis…” she warned, leaning on the wall with his weight against her while she caught her breath. “Don’t do this here.” 

He winced again, bracing a hand on the eroding bricks as he reached for her face with a bloodied palm. 

“I’m…sorry.” He pulled back as he examined his filthy hands. “I should have told you…about Caterina…”

The sound of perfectly cobbled boots echoed down the steps and their heads snapped towards Illario, smirking down at them as he leaned against the railing. 

“Cousin, you’re still making Fi do all the work? Is this how you plan to lead as First Talon?”

Lucanis groaned, his body trembling with the effort to remain upright. “What is he doing here?”

“Helping, believe it or not.” Rook murmured. 

“You used to be strong, cousin. Look at you now. Relying on Fiamma to carry you out of here like a damsel in distress.” Illario crossed the room and wrapped his cousin’s arm around his shoulders. Lucanis tried to resist, but Illario delivered a sharp jab of his elbow to his ribs and he coughed, relenting. 

“I’ll take him to the Villa and call for a healer.” Illario said, eyes sweeping over Rook’s body. “Meet you there.”

“You expect me to trust you? ” 

“Looks like you’re lacking alternatives.” Illario’s smirk faded as Spite’s presence flickered in and out of Lucanis’ expression, displeased by his rescuer. With an irritated sigh, he waved one hand towards the chairs. “Go, I’m not stupid enough to choose the losing side twice.”

Rook clenched her jaw. “If he doesn’t survive this, I’ll ensure Caterina doesn’t have a single heir.” 

Illario smirked. “Careful, Fiammetta. Don’t reveal all your cards just yet.” 

Rook gave him one last stern look before tearing her gaze away and venturing deeper into the house in search of Viago and Teia. It wasn’t difficult to follow the trail of blood.

When she reached the two of them, Emil Cortez’s eldest grandson sat calmly in a chair behind his desk as Viago leaned over it with a menacing snarl. 

“Your House’s reputation was already in the dirt, you just ensured it would be buried.” Viago said through gritted teeth. Teia stood behind him, arms folded as her eyes flicked towards Rook with concern when she passed through the door. 

“I care neither for House nor reputation.” House Cortez’s heir countered, “Only justice.”

“This is your idea of justice? Luring, imprisoning, and torturing your First Talon?” Viago spat. “You and your grandfather were fools for even looking in the Antaam’s direction.”

“How are you enjoying your gift from the summit?” Enzo nodded towards Viago’s sleeve, where his grandfather’s Death Adder had infamously bitten him a few summers ago. 

“Cousin, accompany Illario while he takes Lucanis back to the villa.” Rook said suddenly, a warning in her voice as her eyes lingered on House Cortez’s heir. “I will handle this.”

“This is Crow business.” Viago snapped, “You do not outrank me, and you’re in no position to give orders.”

“Vi. Let her.” Teia said, reaching for his bicep. “If you’re the one to end an entire House line, you’ll be accused of conspiracy by the other Talons.”

He flinched, but removed his hands from the desk, rocking back on his heels. Viago was almost as wary of politics as he was of poison.

“So I should let my kin do it instead? How would anyone even know if it was me?” 

“Fi is already acting outside of Crow custom. It’s revenge, or insurance, for Lucanis, whatever way you want to see it. She gains nothing, politically. As Talons, however, you and I could be accused of setting up a coup.”

The two exchanged a long look before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Formalities.” he said, glaring at Rook from the corner of his eye as he left the room, the heels of his bloodied dress shoes clicking against the hardwood. “Do what you must.”

“You made a grave error tonight, Cortez.” Rook said, pulling her sword from her belt and letting the golden hilt catch in the light. Crow Killer, perhaps that would be a fitting name for it. She’d have to write the title down before Viago used it to name one of his poisons. 

“I do not fear death.” Enzo said, sitting up straighter and crossing his legs. She watched him, anticipating a sudden movement or trap, but there was an air of acceptance around him, rather than smugness. 

“Will you humor me then?”

“Sure. I always liked your father, Little Flame. He knew how to work outside the constraints of politics to get things done.” 

She ignored what he surely meant as a compliment and traced the blade of her sword with one finger.

“Just two questions. Why? And how?”

“To carry out my grandfather’s legacy, of course.” 

“And what legacy is that?”

Cortez snorted. “Amongst the Antaam, you will find a man named the Butcher. I think he would like you. And I think you would find his love for Treviso transcends any Crows’.”

“No Antaam gets to claim love for my city.”

“A small-minded approach, but I can’t fault you for it.” Cortez replied. “Tell Lucanis I send my regards, and that this was nothing personal. My grandfather always adored Caterina. If they would have just let Illario become heir, this could have all been so much simpler.” 

Rook exchanged a glance with Teia. 

“As for how…” Enzo continued, “The Demon of Vyrantium is notoriously good at what he does. But now he has weaknesses.” 

“Spite.” Rook said instinctively. 

Enzo shook his head and grinned. 

“No, no. The spirit is an asset . But you … ” his voice suddenly took on a note of saccharine sweetness. “All I had to do was mention your name . He hesitated - just for one second - and that was all I needed to incapacitate him. No blood magic, no traps. Just… you .”

Rook froze, unable to keep her expression from falling. 

“Every House witnessed it at that shit show of a meeting that Illario called. Love is weakness, my dear. A man with a target on his back knows it better than anyone.” 

In one swift movement, Rook slid her sword into Enzo’s throat, holding it there as he sputtered and smiled, blood staining his teeth as his face slackened and paled. She tore the blade out of his neck, half decapitating him and sending long streaks of blood in every direction. Maroon splattered against the walls and painted her face. 

“A waste of such a nice jacket,” Teia lamented, rubbing her sleeve between her thumb and forefinger where blood splatter had reached it. Rook swept the back of her hand over her face, and it came back wet and dripping in what remained of the Cortez line. Her kills were always messier when she was angry. 

“You get it all out of your system?” Teia asked. 

“Yeah.” Rook said, wiping both sides of her blade on Enzo’s jacket and sheathing it at her waist. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis lost consciousness somewhere around Heart and Central, and woke, to his surprise, in his room at Caterina’s villa. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a seated position, staring down at his chest. Without his shirt, he could see the faint scars left behind where someone had magically repaired a gash in his abdomen. His ribs no longer felt like shattered glass, and he suspected that if he checked his reflection, he’d find only traces of the black eye he’d sustained from where his Antaam captors had struck him in the face with the chains they used to bind him.

Torture was nothing new, but Lucanis hadn’t expected to survive his injuries. The Venatori kept him captive because he was useful to them alive. To House Cortez, his death would have been a strategic, political gold mine.

“They. Threatened. ROOK!” Spite said, referencing Enzo’s casual comment that the Antaam were looking for her. It had been enough to distract Lucanis, for his insides to clench with terror and his body to instinctively freeze. It nearly cost him his life.

Lucanis shuddered and ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the last remnants of his disorientation, before crawling out of bed. In the bathroom, he scrubbed a layer of dirt and blood from his skin, carefully working a brush under his fingernails as well, before he dressed in a pair of clean trousers and a button-down shirt. Shrugging on his cloak, he retrieved his weapons from the nightstand, strapped them to his belt, and ventured downstairs.

In the den, he found his cousin staring with a bored expression at the fire, one leg casually crossed over the other, left cheek resting on his fist. He didn’t acknowledge Lucanis when he entered the room, but from the way his body tensed, it was clear he’d sensed his arrival.

“Caterina’s letting you back inside her house already?” 

“She couldn’t just turn me away. I had her favorite grandson in tow.” 

Lucanis took a seat in the chair across from him, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

“Where is she?”

“Caterina? In the kitchen with Viago and Teia.” Illario stood up and crossed the room, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared through the window at the moonlit gardens outside. He spared a glance over his shoulder and grinned. “But you’re not asking about our grandmother, are you?” 

Lucanis’s answer came in the form of a withering glare.

Illario shrugged and returned his attention to the window. “She stormed in about an hour ago announcing she’d ended the entire Cortez line with one slip of her blade and gave Caterina a look I’m surprised didn’t earn her a throat slitting on sight. After she checked your condition, she left without another word.”

Lucanis braced his hands on his chair arms, but Illario was faster, shoving him back into the cushions before he could leave. Invisible bruises on his chest ached in protest as he coughed, glaring at his cousin. 

“Don’t leave just yet. We haven’t had a chance to catch up. Why don’t you tell me how I couldn’t best you, but Emil Cortez’s idiot grandson could?”

“Still plotting your revenge?” 

“I’m past that.” Illario said, releasing his hold on his cousin and adjusting his sleeves. “Time away from bad influences has really made me rethink my choices.”

The sound of Caterina’s cane thumping against the floor cut their verbal jabs short, and Lucanis slumped in his chair as Illario stepped away.

“An embarrassment to our House.” Caterina pounded her cane against the floor for emphasis. “This is the reputation you want as First Talon? That you can be captured and held hostage-“

Lucanis held up a hand to cut her off.

“If I recall, someone in this room held you hostage for weeks, and none of the Crows batted an eye about your reputation.”

Caterina’s mouth fell open, and she raised her cane menacingly. “Ungrateful-”

“Don’t fall for the act, Lucanis.” Teia said, appearing in the doorway with Viago. “She was beside herself with worry before the healer got here.”

Lucanis stood and gestured down at himself. 

“Well, I’m healed. So I’ll be on my way.” He said, walking towards the door. 

“We are not done here!”

“I think we are.” Lucanis said, passing his grandmother without so much as a second glance. 

“That demon inside of you makes you reckless! Your actions are not befitting of a First Talon!”

“Feel free to take it back,” Lucanis said casually, pulling the front door open. “But I thought you liked when they called me a demon.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Lucanis closed his eyes as the cool night air hit his face, feeling Spite’s presence flare up in excitement at the prospect of finally being able to leave the cramped villa.

He made it about one city block before Viago’s voice carried through the open air, calling out his name. Lucanis turned into an alley and waited for his fellow Talon to catch up.

“If you give up your seat, who is going to pardon Fiammetta for killing a Talon?”

Lucanis scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was a personal matter. Caterina wouldn’t pursue it.”

Viago stepped closer, pressing a finger into the center of Lucanis’ chest.

“I’m not willing to put my cousin’s life in your grandmother’s hands. And if you… care for her, you wouldn’t be either.” He snarled. “Fiammetta can defend herself against a rogue assassin or two. But if someone pointed every Crow in her direction? You, me, Teia - we couldn’t possibly stop them all. Hold your seat. At least until we know what the future holds for the Crows.” 

Lucanis narrowed his eyes, gaze dropping to Viago’s finger. When he raised his head, his voice was low and measured.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m giving you advice.” Viago lifted his hands in the air and took a step back before adjusting his gloves. “The second you put Fiammetta’s life in danger, I won’t waste my time with threats. I’ll take action.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Footsteps in the meditation room woke Rook from her sleep on the couch, and her dagger slipped from her fingertips where her hand had been hanging over the side. Disoriented, she jolted forward, leaning over and scrambling for it as it clanged against the floor.  

In the darkness, Lucanis moved slowly, with his hands up in a placating manner. 

“Just me.” He said, eyes drifting from her blade to her face.

Rook blinked away her disorientation and set the knife down, resting a palm on her forehead and catching her breath. For a moment, Lucanis stood above her, hesitating, before he joined her on the sofa, angling himself so he wasn’t directly facing her.

“You were drug into my mess again.”

“I sought it out this time, actually.” 

A beat of silence passed between them before Lucanis spoke again. 

“Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom. Again.”

He reached out to touch her, but redirected the movement and rested his palms on the couch cushions, staring at the floor.

“You deserved better. Still deserve better. From the Crows, from me. Things will change, or I will leave Treviso with you. I give you my word.”

Rook folded her legs underneath her and leaned forward as she blinked in disbelief, wondering if this was a dream.

“Hold on-”

He turned, his hand instinctively gravitating towards her leg. Behind his eyes, the spirit of determination’s presence hummed with impatience, desperate to touch her as his fingertips brushed her thigh.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Rook. As whatever you want me to be.”

She touched her thumb to the cut on his bottom lip before letting her hand fall away. 

“Have you ever just done something you wanted? For your own sake?”

Lucanis leaned back against the couch, toying with a loose thread on the frayed hem of her nightgown before raising his head to meet her gaze.

“A couple of times,” he said with a coy smile, “In recent memory.”

She watched him for a long moment before shifting her position, crawling over him and straddling his hips. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she leaned forward and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Lucanis stiffened in surprise before letting his hands drift to her waist, fingertips lightly trailing across the silk back of her nightgown and digging into the fabric as he buried his face in her hair. He let out a slow, warm stream of air through his nose and lingered there, cherishing the moment. 

“I don’t want First Talon. I never have. But I want you. To be by your side. I am in your debt.”

Rook nuzzled the place between his neck and shoulder, shaking her head. “There’s no debt-“ she protested, her words muffled against his jacket.

Lucanis lifted a hand, wrapping a dark lock of her hair around his fingers and toying with it.

“You’re going to argue with me now that you got what you wanted?“ he chuckled, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. “Just give me time to figure out how to tell Caterina, mm?” 

“You want to follow me all over Thedas?” She asked, nipping at him gently. The stubble on his neck was rough against her lips, his facial hair soft where it rested just above her cheek. “And here I thought we were just good friends.”

“Mmm.” Lucanis responded, his hands slipping lower to tug her forward so that her hips were pressed flush against his. “I’m not sure friends is going to cut it, mia amata. ”

Rook bent down to kiss him, feeling him suppress a flinch as her mouth grazed a cut in his lower lip. She pulled away and brushed a thumb along his cheekbone instead.

“Sleep here?”

Lucanis raised his brows, his gaze drifting down and lingering on the swell of her breasts in her nightgown. “With you? Like this?”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

His eyes followed the curves and planes of her body, the silk of her nightgown sliding softly under his touch. Hands on her thighs, he inched the fabric of her gown higher.

“A very prolonged gesture of appreciation.”

[7-penguins-eat-icecream]

aventurine going undercover at veritas prime uni fic idea

OK LETS BUCKLE UP. THIS FIC IDEA HAS BEEN CONSUMING ME FOR SO LONG BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN I CAN START THIS GUY (trying to finish my current fic before committing to this guy) so i just need to lay this plot bunny into the world lol

Main idea: there is an internal issue going on at Veritas Prime, the uni Dr Ratio works at, which is lowkey stressing him out. I think it would be a matter similar to the Ruan Mei and Dr Ratio quest in that it could be a kinda structural issue that Dr Ratio cannot solve as an insider because it would spook the culprits too much (i'm thinking of a baby cult or smth like that, similar to the banana memetic thingy in HSR too). As you can tell, this issue is just a vehicle to put Aventio into Situations. I'm just creating a problem at this point hah

Either way, Aventurine gets pulled into this of his own free will after seeing how stressed his situationship has been recently

They decide that Aventurine, as a great actor and an outsider to VPUni, could go undercover as a student there, especially as the second semester is starting so he could easily pose as a mid-year transfer student from another uni (international student? Or rather interastral student lol. I forgot the words bruh).

Now a potential problem (for Aventurine's emotional state hahahah): Aventurine cannot conceivably pose as one of Dr R's students because their accidental sexual tension would be so potent that rumors would spring up ASAP. Put these two guys together and EVERYONE will know that there's something going on between them

and like i need aventurine to make friends with his peers... this man NEEDS friends i am not kidding. also aventurine could occasionally trauma dump (only the most out of context stuff, e.g. yh i nearly died a couple of months but its whateverrr, and maybe yh i once homoerotically pulled a gun on myself and made a stranger watch. we're in a situationship now ahaha) and maybe get some support from people who aren't Ratio? like maybe it would be easier to share his feelings if he isn't viewed as a stoneheart who knows.

and ofc a bit of emotional turmoil because he gets imposter syndrome 😍

And maybe he would go by kakavasha, as he initially thinks that the past/his name is dead to him, so it wouldn't affect him much 👀however, he later realises that he actually quite likes being referred to as that (or the angstier route: he hates it). So why would he even choose Kakavasha in the first place? Well honestly a) I can't think of another name b) neither can aventurine

so like what would aventurine even be studying whilst undercover? honestly like he COULD become a finance bro and study economics or whatever... but hear me out. What about philosophy?? Not only was penacony's story very deeply intrenched in each of the cast's respective philosophy, I feel like aventurine may choose it because Dr R has a phd in it,, he wants to be at lteast a bit closer to the man because he is down BAD for him (on the other side, i think ratio would be quite pleased that aventurine chose that lol)

-> also like i've never studied philosophy but the vibes i get from it is that HOW you present your respective argument is probably more important than the argument itself?? Like i just think that Aventurine IS very cunning and would probably do well in an argument especially if he managed to pick up some stuff from Ratio as well lol (if someone knows what happens in philosophy classes pls let me know if this is even remotely correct)

also i think a really interesting thing to explore would be all the different sides of Ratio,, like the students would place him on such a massive pedastal and aventurine would be forced to review his relationship and finally see just how much Ratio actually cares for him ಥ_ಥ

i have no more thoughts about this fic idea, but at the end ofc aventio get together

-> maybe the friends that Aventurine pick up accidentally see them get together and are like: omg is that Kakavasha's situationship...? Wait does that mean he pulled a gun on our teacher on the first meeting???

If you've read this far thanks for reading!! hope it amused you

[mercurygray]

Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

[ectogeo-art]

For the ask game: Julian jealous of imagined siskarak

Ooooh this one has been fun for me to write. It’s set during the s6 Defiant arc, and it’s all just misunderstandings and miscommunications and Garak and Bashir being in different headspace’s due to the anxieties of wartime. Garak and Bashir are roommates on the Defiant, getting closer to each other than ever, and then that abruptly ends bc they are needed in different places (Julian is on the Defiant and Garak is on the Starbase along with Sisko, so they can still see each other but it’s sporadic). It’s all Julian POV and he is trying to figure out how to start a relationship with Garak even though it would functionally be long-distance for awhile, but he and Garak both won’t state anything plainly so he just gets super jealous that Sisko gets to hang out with him all the time now. His frayed nerves make him paranoid and he knows he’s being irrationally jealous but like he has had no reassurance from Garak that they’ll get together and he just wants some sign from him.

And meanwhile Garak is not really thinking about romance at all. He is too busy working for Starfleet and cracking codes and having lowkey breakdowns about being a traitor to Cardassia (kinda like in Afterimage but more like in Favor the Bold). He kind of has put his usual pining for Julian on hold both because he is reckoning with his role in this war and because he is pretty sure at this point that he has Julian on lock. Like, he thinks they are on the same page about wanting to date each other when they get the chance, so he can afford to think about other more pressing matters like how to defeat the Dominion without getting too many of his fellow Cardassians killed in the process of stopping them, and such.

It all works out in the end though. 💕 The draft is about 3k words, I just have to write the getting together conversation and then edit the whole fic for like cohesion lol, so it may take me anywhere between 1 month and 3 years to finish it. 😂

(Link to my WIP ask game post.)

Snippet below the cut.

He waited a few more days before calling Garak, not wanting to seem desperate.

He’d rehearsed it all in his head. “Hey, Garak,” he’d say casually, “my roommate is working a double shift so I have a bit of privacy if you want to…”

Here, he would give him a look and trail off pointedly and strategically, and then let Garak fill in the blanks however he wanted. If Garak just wanted to talk, they could talk. Debate their latest read with passionate banter like they were across the table in the Replimat instead of star systems apart.

On the other hand, if Garak wanted to finally do something more, something fueled by all their flirtation over the years and all the recent much more heightened tension from sharing a living space… Well, Julian was prepared for that too��he wore only his uniform jacket, and the rest of him was covered only by a blanket.

The sheets slid across his bare skin as he squirmed to be slightly more upright.

The video call connected.

“—have clearance for—” Sisko cut himself off, straightened up, and blinked in surprise. “Dr. Bashir,” he greeted.

Sisko was standing behind a seated Garak and had been leaning over his shoulder, presumably in order to type something on the console that Julian’s call had gone to.

“Captain, I was, er, hoping to speak to Garak.”

“By all means.”

“Privately…”

He didn’t want to spell it out, both because it would have been embarrassingly unprofessional of him and because he was only half sure that he and Garak were on the same page about what kind of call this might turn out to be.

Garak made questioning eye contact with Sisko, who thought for a moment and then shook his head slightly.

Garak turned back to Julian on the screen. “I’m afraid now is not a good time,” he said with a sigh.

“I need to borrow him for the night,” Sisko said gravely. “It unfortunately can’t wait.”

An unfair jealousy coiled around Julian’s stomach and squeezed. The two of them shared secrets that he wasn’t allowed to know. The two of them needed to work long into the night with each other and could communicate with just a glance. He knew the importance of informational security in wartime, but Sisko and Garak hadn’t even given him the vague shape of whatever they were working on together.

“Of course,” he said stiffly. “I understand.”

After some brief goodbyes, Garak was the one who finally reached forward to end the call when Julian, frozen in place, made no move to.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 1

2019

practice makes perfection... [david/patrick, T, 803] by @startswithhope

This show and these two characters make me happy, so here's some nighttime snuggling. These two are so soft, so this is what I want for them...

Vroom Vroom, David [david/patrick, T, 1,304] by @mostlyinthemorning

Patrick discovers that Alexis is not the only Rose family member with an online past. After S5E08 "The Hospies"

Wild and Wired [david/patrick, T, 19,433] by lettered

David and Patrick up through their first kiss.

2020

Privacy [david/patrick, E, 5,023] by JessX2231

It was thrilling, being the one to make Patrick fall apart. He’d been starting to see small moments here and there, but since privacy was a tricky thing for them, it didn’t happen nearly as often as David wished. So of course he was doing all he could to make up for lost time. Or, their night at Stevie's.

Room Ten [david/patrick, E, 3,341] by WellSchitt

This is the second installment in the Sex Motel series! It begins the day after the previous fic, DelilahMcMuffin's Room Six <3 <3 -- “Do it. David, I’m ready, you can- you can-” “Shh. I want to take care of you.” Because he cared too much about Patrick to rush this, cared more about Patrick’s wellbeing than a good fuck. He wanted, needed, to be careful with Patrick.

Room Eight [david/patrick, E, 3,817] by @noahreids

This is the third installment in the Sex Motel series that continues to explore David and Patrick's stolen moments at the Sherwood Motel. My contribution continues about a week (maybe?) after WellSchitt's Room Ten. <3 And! In the moments right after Girls Night (4x04).

Room Two [david/patrick, E, 4,751] by @samwhambam

This is the 5th installment of the Sex Motel series. This takes place after the BBQ, but before the Olive Branch episode. * He tapped the phone screen to keep it from dimming and before he could think twice, he tapped on Patrick’s contact information and hit ‘call’. Patrick picked up on the first ring. “David.” David took a deep breath, just to center himself. “I’m still upset. But I miss you,” David said.

Gift Shop [david/patrick, NR, 563] by @distractivate

David this wasn't meant to be some Advent calendar of apologies. It was like an olive branch to get you to talk to me. Patrick sends an olive branch after the barbecue.

Room Thirteen [david/patrick, T, 3,164] by @missgeevious

David suffers an injury that may ruin his plans for hot, sweaty make-up sex. Takes place immediately after David’s Olive Branch lip sync in episode 4.09. This story is part of a series about David and Patrick using the Sherwood Motel (the motel Johnny and Roland buy in Season 6) to connect before Patrick gets his own apartment.

Room Eleven [david/patrick, E, 4,777] by @unfolded73

David and Patrick decide to go to the Elm Glen motel for some alone time after Jocelyn's baby shower.

Room Sixteen [david/patrick, E, 4,097] by Elsewherefumbling

This is number 9 in the Sex Motel series. It begins the day of the roll out. When David contracts the dreaded poison oak and has a very horrible no good very bad day. Except, of course, now, he has Patrick to help make it all better. _ “I need you.” David whispered. An admission as much as a plea for physical attention. He really did need Patrick he was learning. To make him feel better. To make him feel right. To always be there at the end of the long days. But right now, he really needed Patrick’s hands on him.

Room Seven [david/patrick, E, 11,569] by @ladyflowdi

Patrick loves this motel, much more than he’ll ever say out loud. Thousands of people have slept and fucked and laughed and cried in these rooms. He feels a funny sort of peace, knowing that the story of how he and David fell in love will live between these walls, too. This is the tenth installment of the Sex Motel series, and takes place the night before 4.12 Singles Week.

Room Fifteen [david/patrick, E, 2,463] by @ahurston

This is an installment of the Sex Motel series, taking place just after Singles Week. * David and Patrick need a little privacy after the day's emotional revelations. Now if they can just make it to the Sherwood Motel before combusting...

Room Nine [david/patrick, E, 2,876] by FormerlyEmu

This is an instalment in the Sex Motel series, set immediately following 4.13 - Merry Christmas, Johnny Rose. A few days off, and a scheduled vendor pick-up, give David and Patrick some time to *connect* at the Sherwood Motel.

Room Four [david/patrick, E, 3,295] by @thedidipickles

After finding out that David thought their relationship 'needed a generator,' Patrick has an important question. David does everything he can to answer it.

Room Three [david/patrick, E, 8,469] by @blueink3

“Um, where are we going?” His voice is rough and he’ll need a lengthy spa manicure in Elmdale to fix the way he’s mangling his cuticles. “Thought we could use some alone time,” Patrick replies, eyes never leaving the road. There’s something odd in his tone. Casual. Controlled. “Oh.” 'Alone time' is usually the prelude to a seduction, but David isn’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Or, another installment of the Sex Motel series. Takes place after the robbery in 5x02.

the ties that bind [gen, G, 1,388] by oh_la_fraise

Charles goes to visit the Schitt’s Creek Boyles. The rest of the 99 comes along for the ride.

2021

back to the drawing board [david/patrick, T, 12,957] by mycleverusername

“It’s early, but we’ve got a few results coming in. For more, we’ll send you over to Patrick Brewer at the Big Board.” David expects to see another boring old suit, but Patrick Brewer, it turns out, is young, with short brown hair and wide, inviting eyes. “Hi,” he says, smiling. “I’m Patrick Brewer. Let’s take a look at the first numbers coming out of Indiana…” “Ooh,” David says. “Board guy is cute.”

Dandelion Days [david/patrick, E, 26,561] by @asoftplacetoland

David’s first real memory of Patrick involved a scraped knee, a dandelion, and a sunny smile that, upon recounting the tale of how they met, left him blushing so hard Alexis had singsonged “David and Patrick sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” for a solid week. The story of Prince David and Bodyguard Patrick from the very beginning. Now complete!

David Rose is a Sappy Romantic [david/patrick, T, 2,951] by LondonSpirit

They're married. MARRIED. David still can't believe it.He muses a bit about it as he gets ready for his wedding night with his husband.

Djibouti [gen, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

Family [david/patrick, T, 1,156] by @rmd-writes

Later that afternoon, lying in bed with his head resting on Patrick’s shoulder, David is admiring the way the sunlight glints off his wedding ring as his hand rests on his husband’s chest. Or, what we didn’t see in Happy Ending

get me with those green eyes, baby [alexis/twyla, T, 1,000] by @sarahlevys

Alexis has lived a thousand lives, and has escaped twice as many sketchy, legitimately dangerous situations. But she doesn't know what's scarier: the movie playing out on her television screen, or way her heart's hammering in her chest, keeping time with every one of Twyla's quiet breaths. Written for the prompt: Twyla and Alexis' first kiss while watching a scary movie.

I can take you higher [david/patrick, E, 3,561] by @rockinhamburger

Before the barbecue incident, Patrick had been making progress at lasting longer, whenever they actually managed privacy ... He’s been right back at square one ever since, now that they’re having regular sex again. It’s hard not to feel discouraged about the restoration of his hair trigger when it seemed like they were on the way to getting rid of it. A follow-up to got a bad desire in which Patrick continues to learn how to relinquish control.

people worth missing, things worth sharing [david/patrick, G, 1,018] by @grapehyasynth

Unexpected emotion pulls David away from a lovely summer evening with his husband and in-laws, but it's all because everyone just loves each other so much.

The Windows to the Soul [david/patrick, T, 5,570] by @agoodpersonrose

Nobody ever noticed in New York, but when David starts painting his graffiti in Schitt's Creek, he has to be a little more careful about it.

2022

Eyebrows at Midnight [david/patrick, M, 1,409] by @ineveryuniverse-sc

To StolenAway55n3... Hey babe - to make up for my sassy response, I went ahead and wrote the damn thing. To you, and to all my favorite SBC peeps! Smooches!!!!!! For the prompt: "Begin a story with a stranger at your door at midnight" Thanks a million to my lovely beta and friend goodiecornbread. ❤️

Fracture [david/patrick, M, 9,850] by littlebebecrows

Patrick finds himself in a dreary interrogation room, being grilled about his life by a man who is hidden in shadows. When he is asked to remember a man he has never met before - a man with dark hair and eyes named David - Patrick realizes he may be suffering from amnesia. When he ventures out to search for clues about the man he has apparently forgotten, he very quickly realizes that nothing is as it seems. Although memories of David start to resurface, it may be too late. In a race against time, Patrick struggles to uncover the truth about his memory loss before he loses David forever.

Full of Surprises [david/patrick, G, 712] by @fictasticvoyage

David meets a new friend at the Apothecary and Patrick learns a surprising fact about his husband.

Halfway Down the Aisle: Twylexis Femslash February 2022 [alexis/twyla, E, 2,800] by @sarahlevys

A twylexis drabble collection, following the Femslash February 2022 prompts to tell a continuous story focusing on marriage.

Roses on the Wall [david/patrick, G, 713, CW: suicide, eating disorder] by elifisher96

Patrick was lying in bed for the fourth consecutive hour since waking up.

You've Got the Love to See Me Through [david/patrick, G, 1,584] by lucianowriter

Patrick is home sick so he turns on his favorite TV show. This opens up a conversation between him and David about his continued asexual journey.

2023

600 Candles [david/patrick, G, 5,930] by @a-noble-dragon

David throws a Birthday bash for a dragon. His family help. It's a recipe for disaster!

everything else is just noise [david/patrick, G, 1,054] by OrganizedWatermelon

This is my take on how Patrick's version of "The Best" came to be. Takes place around "Stop Saying Lice!"

2024

You Are the Reason [david/patrick, E, 2,900] by @a-noble-dragon

100 word drabbles. 100% smut.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 3 fics/21,540 words 2020: 14 fics/59,593 words 2021: 9 fics/55,074 words 2022: 6 fics/17,068 words 2023: 2 fics/6,984 words 2024: 1 fic/2,900 words Total: 35 fics/163,159 words

[coockie8]

It's a very special kind of a Hell when you ship a rare pair in a very specific way, and one day your ship gets a new shipper making content, but they ship your ship wrong 🙃🙃🙃🙃

[gregmarriage]

the strugglerrrrrrrrr

[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.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.

[cryptictongues]

The Thrill of the Chase

pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Mutant!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 7.1K summary: Logan ate part of your sandwich, so you stole his cigars. Things turn out differently from what you were expecting.

warnings: fluff and smut, teasing, slight predator/prey trope, banter, making out, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, squirting, soft!dom Logan

Author's Note: My first Logan fic! X-Men used to be my world and the fact it is making a comeback has rejuvenated me. Also, I was picturing Logan from the first three trilogies but DOFP!Logan also crossed my mind so :)

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

It was getting close to evening, everyone doing their own thing to unwind after a long day of classes and teaching. You had planned to do the same thing, planning to grab a quick bite in the kitchen before getting ready to relax in your room. You were whipping up a quick and easy sandwich, assembling it onto a plate before moving it to the island in the middle of the kitchen. You went to get a soda from the cupboard, only for your skin to raise as you sense something is about to happen: a certain someone was about to come take your sandwich. 

“If you take one bite out of my sandwich Logan, I will kick your ass.”

You turn to see him, eyes wide along with his mouth, about to chomp into your dinner. He closes his mouth, only for him to keep the sandwich in his hands and an “innocent” smile on his face. 

“Oh, you mean this sandwich?” 

You shut the cupboard door, walking over to him with a stern, playful look. You know he is messing with you. That has been the dynamic of your relationship with him. Ever since he decided to stay here at the school and join the X-Men, you two have grown closer and closer, enjoying each other’s company over anyone else. It didn’t matter what either of you did. You both thrived in the presence of one another. 

But something that has become common practice as of late was playful in nature. You both have always teased, but it has recently ramped up. If one of you started it, the other would find a way to end it before starting again. It was the push and pull between the two of you that you loved, and it has only made you long for him. You want to believe he feels the same, but even your mutation of precognition can’t fully confirm that. 

“Yes, that is my sandwich. I worked very hard on it. I'll have you know.” You are standing in front of him now, having to look up at him slightly as you wait for his next move. 

“I’m sure you did. It looks delicious.” He says, but rather than looking at the food, he is looking right at you. Cheeky bastard.

“Y-yeah, which is why I am asking you to put it down so I may enjoy it.” 

“I don’t know. I think I wanna have a taste first.” 

His hazel eyes are staring you down, almost begging for you to make a move. In reality, you really didn’t care if he ate it. You could easily make another and enjoy dinner with him. But you know that isn’t what he is doing right now. He is playing with you, wanting to rile you up. Well, it takes two to play that game.

“That sandwich is very precious to me. I’d think before you act.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, bringing his face closer to yours. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll take something precious of yours.” 

He chuckles, turning his face to the sandwich. “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

He takes a huge bite out of your sandwich, his eyes closing as he chews. You purse your lips, watching him savor your meal with gusto. You know he is overexaggerating to truly get at you, but little does he know you have a trick up your sleeve.

“Enjoying my meal?” 

He turns back to you, swallowing before licking his lips. “Very much. I may have to take another bite.”

You get up in his space, settling onto your tippy toes so your face is by his ear. You let your breath waft against his skin, causing a shiver to shake his core. You can tell he is anticipating what you will do, always highly enjoying your responses to his antics. Oh, he is so in for it.

“That’s okay. You can have it.” You let your pointer finger trace his collarbone that is very much on display from his white, fitted tank. “And you want to know why that is, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath, very apparent that your actions are doing something to him. His left hand lets go of the sandwich to settle on your hip, squeezing the flesh slightly to ground himself. It is actions like that that make you believe you do something to him. Like you drive him just as insane as he does to you. You bring your left hand to his head, pulling him down so you can really get into his ear. 

“That’s because I know where you keep your special cigars from Cuba, and I am going to take them.”

You couldn’t have run fast enough. You are already shooting for the stairs, taking two steps at a time as you speed to his room. You knew it had taken him a second to realize what had happened because by the time you got to his floor, you heard him yelling your name. 

You burst into his room, locking it quickly. It was only to buy some time, for you knew he had a key. You were giggling as you went to his bookcase, plucking out the blue, hardcover history book. You open it, and smile as you see the unopened cigars there in the deep hole where text used to be. Just as you close the book, you hear heavy footsteps reach the door and a jingle of keys.

You panic, needing to find a way out before he opens the door. You could run around him, but you needed a head start. You could hide and wait for him to leave but you knew he’d sniff you out. There was only one option left, and that was to go out his bedroom window. You hear the key enter the lock, and with a quickness you didn’t think you had, you unlocked his window and flung it open. Just as the door busted open, you crawled out. You grasped onto the ivy that clung to the school’s exterior and began to climb down. 

“Oh, when I get my hands on you, you are in for it!”

You look up to see Logan’s head popping out the window. He has a scowl on his face, but you could see the wild look in his eyes. You knew he was enjoying this, for he loves the chase.

“This is for taking my sandwich!” You yell, and continue making your descent. 

You hear the window close, which makes you go faster, knowing he is rushing down those stairs to meet you at the bottom. You could sense that he would go to the front door, so once your feet touch the grassy floor you run to the back door. Opening it quickly, you determine your next move. He is probably at the front, ready to intercept you, giving you the opportunity to hide somewhere. 

You rush to the hallway where many of the classes are held. You run into the first classroom you see, its door already open. You see the large oak desk at the back of the classroom, and quietly walk up to it. It has a space for leg room, so with haste you crawl in it, pulling the chair in carefully to not make any sound. 

Your heart was racing, adrenaline thrashing as you hid. You try to steady your breath, trying to keep quiet. The atmosphere has become eerie, the silence defying as you try to keep it that way. You try to listen for any other sounds over your pounding heart, when another wave of cognition hits you. You can see it clearly, where he finds you under the desk, hands on either side to block you in. You know you need to move on, so you go to move the chair, but you suddenly halt when you hear his voice boom nearby.

“Where is she?” 

You cover your mouth, trying to hold in your breathing as well as the gasp that almost shot from your mouth. His voice was coated in gravel, and absolutely primal. Even from afar, it was clear he was worked up, and it made you embarrassingly wet. 

You hear footsteps enter the hallway, heavy boots against the shiny wooden floor. At first, you think you may have a way out, hearing him pass the room you were in, but you aren’t so lucky because you hear him stop. You grip onto the book and your mouth, even though you know it will do absolutely nothing. You know he senses you, and it is confirmed when you hear footsteps enter the room. You hear him inhale deeply, exhaling with sigh only to turn into a deep rumble. 

“I know you are here.” He is slow in taking his steps, and each step gets closer and closer to your hiding place. 

He sniffs deeply again, growling this time around like he was a wild animal. “No point in denying it. I could smell you the second I walked into the hall.”

You know he will find you, and he will block you in. So you decide to take a risk before he closes in on you. You push the chair out far enough to crawl out, before standing up behind the desk. You put your hands up with the book in your left one, trying to show off a sign of surrender. 

“You have nowhere to go, dollface. No point in trying’ to run for I’ll snatch you up real quick.” 

“You must really want your cigars back to block me in like this.” 

He steps even closer, with him now standing right in reach of the book. He could easily grab it and take it, for he is much stronger than you. But he doesn’t make a move, staying glued to his new spot. You don’t know what’s running through his head, his eyes trained on you. It isn’t until he places his hands onto the desk that you take a step back and drop your hands. 

“You’re wrong.”

You raise a brow, not sure what he is getting at. “What do you mean?”

He smirks, leaning his body over the desk. “It isn’t the cigars I’m after. Not anymore.”

Your heart is in overdrive. You know the answer, it is becoming obvious. But you ask anyway. “Then what are you after, Lo?”

“I think you know the answer. Now it is a matter of will you let me take what’s mine.”

You want to give in. You are becoming more aroused by the second, but you are starting to really enjoy the chase. Seeing how much it gets him going, to see this side of him, only makes you want to push him more. You want to see what he will do, especially when he gets his hands on you.

You walk around the desk, book of cigars still in hand, getting closer to him until you are toe to toe with him. “What’s the fun in surrendering?”

He quickly blocks you in, the desk pressed against your back. He has the most seductive, but feral grin upon his lips, like he thinks he has won his prize. His head leans down to yours, forehead against forehead, before he whispers his next sentence against your lips.

“The fun is in what follows.”

His lips are on yours, desperate and needy. You can’t help the moan that leaves your throat, mind going hazy as his lips devour. You have craved him for so long, you want this to last forever. However, you cannot give into him like this. You will not make this easy for him.

One of your hands goes to the hem of his tank, fingers lingering before going under. He feels so solid, the coarse hairs on his tummy spread thick as you go to his left side. You can feel him shudder over you, and you try to hold back the smirk that wants to curve onto your lips. You move your fingers sporadically over the left side of his ribcage, causing him to jump back. This gives you the chance to run like hell.

“Hey! That’s unfair!” You hear him yell and it makes you giggle profusely. You must thank Jean later for letting you in on that little secret; that the broody, grumpy man with the metal bones was insanely ticklish. You wish you could turn to see his full reaction, but you are too determined.

You can hear him running right behind you, and you have never been more aroused. You shouldn’t feel so turned on by Logan chasing you around, but the thrill of the chase was seeping into your loins and you were addicted. 

More people had shown up around the school, meeting with friends to study or hang out for the evening. You were dodging people left and right, and everyone looked perplexed as they saw Logan charging his way towards you. Many of them probably assumed it had to do with the book you were holding, and while they would have been originally right, they are no longer even close. 

You don’t have time to hide again, not with him so close behind. You make it back to the stairs, hauling ass as you try to make it to your room. You can hear him right behind you, breathing heavily and grunting with each step. Your room is at the end of the hall, and you are basically flying with how fast you are running. The second you reach the door, you swing it open and throw yourself in before slamming it. You had gotten it shut, mentally pumping your fist in victory, but by the time you went to turn the lock, it was too late. The door flies open, sending you back a couple feet back as Logan stands at the door's entrance. 

“I have you right where I want you. No more running.”

If looks could kill, you’d be ash. He enters your room, closing the door behind him with his eyes staying on you. He takes one step forward, with him now hovering over your smaller form. The way he is looking at you makes your knees faint, for you felt you could hear what he was revealing with his stare. 

“I still know your weakness, Logan.” You smirk, holding the book up to your face to dodge any attack he was planning. It is pointless, you know, but it is the best defense you’ve got. 

“Do you now?” He walks towards you, in step with you as you go backwards. The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed, telling you that you truly have nowhere else to go. He is right on you, grinning now that he has the upper hand. 

“I’m afraid that book won’t save you from me.” He snatches the book, tossing it to the side of the bed. 

You are in for it. You don’t know what he is planning, and the element of surprise has overcome you. However, with the way he is looking at you, you guarantee that what is about to happen will be just as exhilarating as when he was hunting you down. 

“What do you plan to do with me, hm?” You let your fingertips walk along his chest, dancing all the way down to his side like you did earlier. 

He is quick to grab your hand, bending down to lift you up in his arm before tossing you onto the bed, following swiftly as he pins both hands above your head. 

“Don’t even think about it. I know you all too well.” He growls through his teeth. “As for what I plan on doing, what’s the fun in telling when I can just show you. Would you like that?”

You simply nod, breathless at how he is handling you. However, that wasn’t good enough for him, as he takes hold of your wrists in one hand so his other one can grip your chin.

“I wanna hear you say it, pretty girl.”

You huff, getting frustrated already that he is dragging this out. With your legs still free, you wrap them around his hips, your heels digging into his back causing him to grunt. Your lips are practically on his, faint contact making you antsy. “Show me what you’ve been wanting to do with me.”

Your lips are squashed by his instantly, hunger and desperation clear. His hands go to your thighs, grabbing at the flesh. With your hands free, they go straight to his hair, gripping and tugging on it which causes him to moan hotly into your mouth. 

His hands travel up to the hem of your blouse, pushing the fabric up past your stomach before his hands go under. You moan at the contrast, rough hands, that have been through so much running along your unmarred body. He swallows what you give him, groaning happily at the effects he was causing.

You are in heaven. You never thought you would be here like this with Logan. You never thought you would be under him at his complete mercy. It makes a shiver travel down your spine, traveling right to your core that is a heated mess because of the man before you. To be with the man you have pined for is riveting, and you could cry that he seems to return those feelings.

You don’t know what triggers your mutation, but it is sudden. Your vision goes blurry, a strong aura surrounding you. It is overwhelming, a whimper bubbling from your throat as you see what is about to happen. Logan releases your lips with a grunt, looking at you intensely as you start to shake. You feel his rough hands cup your soft cheeks, stroking them gently. 

Your cheeks feel hot, your vision turning you into a horny mess. Your hands grip onto Logan’s chest trying to ground yourself to reality. It’s too much. Your visions rarely last long for they are just snippets of future events, but this was different. It was as if you were in a trance, and could feel everything he was doing to you. You don’t know if it is your heightened emotions, especially with him right on you. All you knew is that pleasure was present, and you were starting to fall apart. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You can hear his demeanor change, worry laced in his tone.

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but moan, unable to control yourself. “I can feel everything, Logan.”

There is a pause, hands still touching your face. A few beats later, he lets his right hand go down, only to stop at your thigh squeezing tightly. 

“Tell me what you see, baby.” 

The rumble in his voice intensifies everything, causing you to grip onto him tighter. “Oh God please don’t make me say it out loud.”

You try to look away, but his left hand shifts so it is grabbing your chin. He forces your head back up, bringing his face down to yours like he had in the classroom. His breath fans over your lips, taking in the way they move as sounds leave them. 

“I’m fucking you, aren’t I? Making you lose yourself on my cock? Is that what you are seeing?”

You can barely talk, too enthralled in your vision. You grab the hand that is on your thigh and bring it to the top of your black pants. Logan gets the idea and angles it so he can slide his hand into them. His fingers brush over the fabric, feeling the damp spot that has formed drastically. You hear him curse under his breath, the vibrations hitting your lips as they brush against one another without full pressure. 

“Oh sweetheart, you are so wet.” He murmurs, pulling his hand out to bring it up to his nose, inhaling deeply before releasing a sound so feral that you could sob. “And you smell so fucking good.” 

You can’t help but nod, not knowing how to respond. All you know is that you need him. Need him to take you on your bed and do whatever he wants to you. You’ll take anything he is willing to give you, for all you want is for him to make himself known to you. 

His hand had gone back down to your crotch, cupping your pussy through the material. “Does she want more attention?”

“Logan, please do something.” You choke, your mind steadily coming back to reality, but still not fully letting go. You start to grind down on his palm, desperate for anything he will give you, but he removes his hand, going to the back of your head to grip tightly.

Damn him!

“I know she deserves something, but do you? Do you deserve me after getting me so worked up like that?”

“Logan, I am begging.” You cry out in frustration, your nails digging into his chest causing him to groan lowly. “I want you. God, I’ve always wanted you so please take what’s yours!”

He is back on you, kissing you till the air in your lungs dissipates. He starts to kiss away from your swollen lips, kissing down to your neck. He nips at your pulse point, going up to your ear to give it a light lick before going back down. With every kiss, he takes a deep breath in, which only makes him get more aggressive. Soft kisses turn to an open mouth lather to nips that could have easily broken the skin.

“I don’t think you know what your scent does to me. It draws me in every time.” He bites down particularly hard at your collar bone, and you wouldn’t be surprised if blood had come to the surface. 

His hands come back up to the front of your blouse, carefully unbuttoning the garment before revealing your breasts that are almost spilling out of your bra. His hands mold over the cups, squeezing hard and slow as he makes his way to your sternum. 

He is being so gentle with you, a complete 180 from how you thought this was going to go. He was so rough with you in your head, fucking you until you couldn’t even say a word. This side of him was endearing, but you crave more from him.

“For someone so feral for me, you sure are taking your time.”

He bites the top of your left breast, making you gasp at the sudden pain. “I don’t think you are ready for that side of me, dollface.”

Your right hand goes to his head, taking a handful of his hair and yanking his head up. You know he wants to absolutely ravish you, and if it’s some convincing he needs, some convincing he is going to get. 

“When I said to take what’s yours, I meant it. I want you to make me beg until I’m dumb, so fucking do it.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, Princess.”

His hands go under your top from the back, unclipping your bra before letting them resurface. He starts to yank your top off from the shoulders, only to smack your thigh that causes a light sting.

“Arch that back for me.”

You do as he says, allowing him to take the rest of your top off along with your bra. He flings them both across the room, only to do the same with his tank. You’ve seen his upper body plenty of times, as there would be instances in which he disregards it for a training session. But this? This was very different. It’s a different atmosphere, and rather than everyone getting an eye full of his muscular, hairy body, it is now for your eyes only. 

He’s looking down at you, pupils flared as he takes you in. You shiver as his palms stroke your tummy, slowly going up until they encompass your breasts. Your nipples pebble from the rough texture of his skin, and you can see it excites him. So much so that he takes the opportunity to take your nipples between his fingers and pulls them gently with a pinch. Your back bows off the mattress, adoring the pain he is providing, and let out a mewl as he lets go to run his thumbs over the tender peaks.

“You sound so good,” Logan murmurs. “I need to hear more.”

His right arm goes under your back to keep you up, holding you there as his mouth goes to your left breast. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking with his eyes still on you. Your cheeks flush, head tilting to the side to avoid looking at him. It’s too much. It’s too fucking much. 

Whimpers slip from your mouth, his treatment of your breasts making you want to rub your thighs together to soothe the ache, but he keeps your legs open. He eventually does the same to your other breast, working to match the work he left on your other nipple: hard, and tainted red.

He lets up, sitting on his knees as he unbuttons your pants, hands sliding the material down your legs in earnest. He tosses your heels off before stripping away your bottoms, and he hums as he admires the black, lacy thong you adorn. 

“Fuck,” he snaps the elastic, eyes entranced. “You sure you didn’t see this coming earlier? Wearing something sexy like this?”

“They work better with my pants.” You huff, his fingers lightly running along your covered slit.

“Hmm, no wonder your ass looked so good today.” He grins. “But this pussy? I could play with her all day.”

He lowers himself, sliding off the bed only to bring you with him, your body gliding across the comforter with ease. He clutches onto your thighs, letting your legs rest in the crook of his elbows. He keeps his hold tight, bringing his lips down to kiss and suck on your thighs. You gasp at the aggressiveness, swearing you will see dark purple marks on you later. You moan at the idea, as it feels like he is finally claiming you; like are his to mark, to claim, to fuck, to love. 

He makes his way to your center, sniffing deeply before releasing a feral growl. He lets the tip of his tongue lightly drag from the bottom to the top of your heat, still fully covered by the damned thong. He flicks at your clit, a ghost of a touch that has you bucking your hips. And he draws back every single time. His self-control is impressive but frustrating all the same.

He starts to suck on it through the material, creating a bigger wet spot with his spit. The more he pushed his tongue against your folds, the more the material would rub just right against you. It made you clench, panting at how much he is teasing you. He pulls away, blowing on your sensitive spot which only makes you whine.

“Awe what is it?” He chuckles, the vibrations barely hitting where you need him. “You want my tongue to play with you?”

His hand lets go of your thigh, fingers tracing the fabric before pulling it to the side. “Lucky for you, I love to play.”

He goes right in, mouth over your bud as he consumes your very being. Your hands shoot to his hair, not prepared for the onslaught of pleasure he is delivering. The swirls he is landing on his target is mind numbing, a tangible pressure that makes you want to curl in on yourself. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, the sound vibrating right on your clit. It makes you buck your hips up, but his left arm presses you down to keep you secure. 

“I know you want more, but you are going to have to be patient. I’m not done tasting this sweet pussy. Fuck, you are so sweet.”

You feel one of his fingers near your hole, circling it teasingly before pushing in. His tongue is back on your nerves, mouthing covering it to add slight suction. Even with his big fingers, it’s not nearly enough. 

“Logan, please add another.” You say, emphasizing as you clench down on his single digit. 

He sucks a little harder, ripping a yelp from your throat. Still, he listens and inserts a second finger with the first. He goes in and out, drawing sighs from your lips as he builds you up. His mouth is going crazy, moving his lips with a vengeance. Your blood is hot, traveling down as your release starts to come to the surface.

You can’t stop clamping down on his fingers, your pussy having a mind of its own. He is pistoning them now, causing your fluids to make its way down your ass onto the comforter. The sounds coming from his handiwork edge you further, your release imminent. 

“Oh God, Logan! I’m cumming!” 

Big mistake on your part.

He pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A smug look appears on his face, and you have the urge to shove his face back into your aching cunt.

“Your first time cumming with me will be on my cock, sweetheart.”

He pulls your thong down your legs and moves you back to the front of the bed. He stands before you, making light work of removing his belt from the loops of his jeans. His jeans are next, pulling them down with his briefs. 

You don’t know what you expected. You weren’t surprised with how well endowed he was, not with the way he is built. But to see it in person is so much different from your imagination. The details that your mind didn’t conjure up, especially the vein that starts from his lower stomach to the tip of his cock. It makes you salivate, wanting to run your tongue along it. 

“You like what you see, darlin’?” He noticed you staring, but you have no shame. Not anymore.

“Yeah, want it in my mouth so bad.”

He walks over to you, his cock in your face. His hand goes to your head, stroking the baby hairs that are starting to stick to your temple. “As much as I would love that, I am dying to give you the fucking you deserve, sweetheart. However…” he brings your head up closer to his cock, your lips not even an inch away. “How about you get it nice and wet for me.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You work up a good amount of spit, letting it drip from your mouth onto his hard cock. You start to lick at the sides, spreading your saliva all over until he is covered. You are basically making out with his dick, your lips and tongue moving like you had when you were kissing him earlier. It isn’t until you get to that vein of his that you start to go wild, licking it up and down. 

Logan is groaning deeply, and pulls your head back, a string of saliva connecting before breaking apart. You hear him curse under his breath before crawling back onto the bed, his hands holding your face as he brings his lips to you. His kisses are slow this time, letting it sink in that this is happening; that you two are about to be connected. 

“You did such a good job. You are such a good girl.” He murmurs against your lips before sitting up. 

His dick is now sitting heavy on your mound, and the weight of it feels delicious. He taps it against your clit a few times, your hips thrusting up in kind. 

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” He lets his cock rut into your folds, thrusting up into your clit. “I think that sweet thing of yours is.”

“Give it to me, Lo. I need you so bad it hurts.” 

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take that pain away.” He promises.

And as promised, he places the tip right at your aching hole and pushes in slowly. Your jaw slacks, the pressure as he continues his descent much more intense than you anticipated. It’s been so long since you’ve given yourself to someone. It all feels new, and you are thankful; thankful that it's with him.

He is fully seated in you, and you can only describe it as euphoric. With the way he sits heavy in your cunt, filling you up completely, you can honestly say that this was meant to happen. Logan was meant to be with you in every single possible way imaginable. It’s the only explanation.

“How does it feel, baby?” Logan asks, hands rubbing up and down your thighs soothingly. 

“It feels,” you whimper, gripping down on him. “It feels so good, Lo.”

“Yeah? My cock makin’ you feel good, doll?” He groans, clearly being affected by your behavior. 

Before you can mutter a pathetic answer, your brain turning to mush, he shifts back. His cock slides out until the mushroom head is at your entrance, and then he slams back in; hard and slow. 

The constant back and forth of his cock has you shaking, his hard thrust knocking the air out of your lungs and the slow thrusts feeling oh so good. And with the way he is watching you, his face mimicking yours as he receives his own pleasure, is sending zaps of electricity to your cunt. It makes you grasp onto him hard as he gets you more worked up.

Logan sits up straighter, grabbing your right leg and bringing it up to his shoulder. His left hand keeps it steady as he speeds up slightly and presses gentle kisses to your ankle in the process. It lets him go deeper, kissing your cervix every time it goes in. The pressure feels incredible, and the more he speeds up, the more your cunt starts to spasm out of control. 

“That’s it, baby. You are taking me so well, like you were fucking made for me.” He growls out, biting your ankle. 

“God yes, Logan! I’m yours!” You cry out, him and his cock making you utterly delirious. “You were made for my pussy!”

“Fuck, you got a mouth on you.” He chides, his right hand going to your right breast.

He is squeezing your tit so tight; his hips are on autopilot with how fast he is taking you. Your hands don’t know where to go, going from gripping the fabric below to holding onto his wrist. He is putting you into a completely fucked out state, and you can’t get enough of that treatment. 

You can tell you are on the precipice of cumming. You are clenching on and off rapidly, no longer in control of your muscles. The sounds coming from your coupling, wet smacking echoes that are music to your ears. You can feel the telltale sensation of being overwhelmed, and you know you are now on the track of no return. 

“Logan, baby, I’m gonna cum!”

He snarls at you, a crazed look in his eyes as he slams into you. He lets go of your tit to grab your chin, keeping your eyes on his. “Do it, darlin’. Cum around my cock.”

You are over the edge in seconds, a silent scream taking over as you tremble and quake. Your pussy is convulsing like crazy, small gushes of liquid coming out. You see Logan look down at where you two are connected, and he is grinning like crazy.

“What a fucking sight. There isn’t one thing about you that isn’t pretty.”

You could sob at his words, especially with how overstimulated you are becoming. You work his cock, wanting him to cum inside of you. 

“Give me your cum, Logan. Fill me until I’m dripping.”

Your words must have triggered something because next thing you know he has let go of your leg and face and is falling onto his forearms with his mouth landing on yours. You hear the sound of his claws, completely unsheathed from his skin, causing him to bellow into your mouth, rutting like a madman which causes cum to leak out from your hole onto the bedding. 

He slows down, milking out the rest of his spend before stopping all together. He lets go of your lips gasping, face buried in your shoulder as he tries to calm down. Your hands go to his back, massaging the taut muscles as he shakes. 

“Fuck, Logan,” you sigh, catching your breath as you come back to earth. You feel so relaxed, even with your guts feeling completely rearranged.

You hear his claws sink back into his skin, and it is then that he pulls out, falling to the other side of the bed. His chest is going up and down with every heavy breath, and you can’t help but admire him like this. 

He turns his head over to you, his hand coming to grab the hand by your side. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You make it over into his side, head laying on his chest as you both bask in the post-sex glow. You can’t help but smile at this turn of events, not expecting to have been in this position with Logan. But here you are, laying on his chest with his arms around you. 

You notice something in your peripherals and see splintering from the headboard of your bed. There are six holes in the wood, and it sends you into a laughing fit, a euphoric glaze covering your entire body. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks gruffly, pulling you into side as you continue to laugh.

“Your claws pierced my headboard.”

You see him glance back, and you see him sigh, relaxing more into the mattress. “I’ll fix it up for you, darlin’. I’m sorry about that.”

“No need to say sorry.” You snuggle your face into his skin, breathing in his natural musk as you relax more into him. “I just can’t believe we did that, but I’m glad it did.”

“I can say the same.” He murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “Seriously, I gotta know, did you see this coming?”

You shift up, going to lay your arms across his chest only for you to rest on them. You look into his eyes and the need in them is still there, but not in the way they were before. They were searching, looking for any confirmation that what you both just did truly meant more. It makes him look vulnerable, something he rarely shows. It makes you smile at the prospect of him opening up even more. 

“Not until today. It’s strange now that I think about it.”

“And why is that?”

“I never saw you coming, I guess. Even when it is clear as day how you felt about me, I never got anything that told me it was real. I didn’t want to potentially screw anything up between us.”

He hums, a look of contemplation on his face before taking a hand and rubbing his face, a long sigh coming out in the process. “I suppose that’s my fault.”

You can’t help but look confused. His fault? “Why do you say that?”

“I haven’t been fully honest, but ever since I came here, no matter how welcomed and appreciated I am here, I have contemplated leaving.” His hand leaves his face to go behind your neck, lightly scratching the skin at the nape before continuing. “I’ve been alone for a long time. Having a family has never been in the books for me. It is easier to not let people in.”

“So, that’s why I couldn’t see you coming. You hadn’t made up your mind?”

“It’s possible, but it’s just a theory.”

“But, if that’s the case, have you made your mind up?” You start rubbing his chest with your palm, feeling his heart pulse slowly. You are confident you know the answer now, but you want to hear him say it.

He grunts in laughter, shaking his head slightly before letting his fingers curl around the back of your neck. “I think you know the answer, princess. But if you really want to know, come up here.”

You push yourself from him, moving so you are straddling his torso. He brings his hands to your face once more, pulling you down so you are face to face with him. He kisses you, slowly initiating intimacy with his lips. He isn’t saying anything, but you can feel what he is saying through the act alone. 

“I can’t close myself off from you,” he says between kisses. “And I don’t want to. Especially if you’ll have me.”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Lo.”

“Still, I wanna hear you say it.”

You pull away so you can look into his eyes, giving him all the sincerity you can muster. “I love you, and I want you to stand by me.”

He smiles teeth and all, and pulls you back down, kissing all over your face causing you to squeal. “Hmm I love you too, sweetheart. Always have.”

You both stay like that for a while, basking in each other's company in post-coital ecstasy by continuing to taste one another. Another thought came over you, and you can’t help but laugh again.

“If I had known sex would make you like this, I would have made a move a long time ago.” Logan jokes, breathing them in. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m laughing because it took me taking your cigars hostage to do it.”

Logan throws his head back, chuckling at what you presume is the same thing you are laughing about.

“Speaking of those cigars, can you grab them for me?”

You perk up, pushing away from him to lean over to your side of the bed. Your fingers stretch for the book, getting a grasp on it before getting settled back with Logan. He pulls you in quickly, hurdling you into his side. You see he has his lighter ready, which he must have grabbed while you were getting his cigars.

“You gonna smoke one?”

He hums, taking one out. “I only smoke these on special occasions. I think this qualifies.”

He carefully unsheathes a claw, cutting the end before it sinks back under his skin. He flickers the lighter, letting the bright flame linger on the end to get a good burn going. He then lays back, pulling you even closer into his side, before taking his first puff. 

You smile, laying your head against him as you let your eyes drift closed. You feel yourself drifting away, the smell of his cigar and the sound of his pulse lulling you to a deep sleep; a sleep with dreams that you hope feel like déjà vu in the near future.

[sttoru]

‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’

☀︎｜tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.

a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.

“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.

and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.

“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.

sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.

though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.

sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.

were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?

he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.

“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”

sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”

lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.

but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.

sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.

you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.

“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.

you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.

you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.

“where’d you think you’re going?”

sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.

you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.

his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.

he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.

“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.

you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.

even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.

you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.

“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.

you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”

a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.

“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.

you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.

sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.

“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”

it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.

the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.

until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.

[cryobabiess]

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader

Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!

Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.

Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.

“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.

“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.

You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.

“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.

“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”

And with that, the emperor crawls to you.

He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.

“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.

You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.

“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.

“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”

Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.

“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”

You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.

“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.

It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.

“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”

You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.

And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.

Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

[potchi-fics]

note; yall fuck with me rapidly posting new fics? ill get to yalls ask btw, specifically the pervy cait and the basketball player cait fics. ooh and ill also prolly pick up the ambessa one too!!!

tw; amab academic rival caitlyn, orgasm denial, overstim

      you and caitlyn have been at each other’s throats since the start of the semester, actually ever since you were kids. she may have excelled in the ranges of her rifle, but you prospered in close-range, via hand-to-hand combat.

one thing you both have in common is academics. you have a higher score? she’ll bounce right back and take the number one spot—it’s a back-and-forth between you two.

and when she gets in a slump, you just have the right thing to help her get back on track.

“eight-point ninety-nine expansion–damn it. how am i su-supposed to focus when you’re sucking me like you want to suck the soul out of m-me?” caitlyn pants out while looking down at you with lidded eyes, her glasses look like they’re about to fall off. you glare at her before taking her to the hilt, your nose hitting cleanly shaven pelvic bone, “fuck.”

you swallow around her twitching dick, massaging her using your throat before rising up for much-needed air, “focus, caitlyn. answer the question.”

      her hips buckle up, lifting off the sofa in your apartment. she’s trying her best to recall where she stopped, but the feeling of your wet, hot—warm throat sidetracks her.

caitlyn could only tip her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head because you, her academic rival, are giving her the best head she’s ever gonna have for the rest of her life.

she doesn’t mind getting in a slump if it means getting you to do this to her. caitlyn’s head lolls back down to look at you giving her a stare; continue.

shit, this is too much for her. “eight-point ninety-nine expansion negative nine–gonna cu—” 

you still your movements, soaking in how her eyes seem to plead for you to let her cum. her dick’s still throbbing in your hold, jumping and twitching at the cold air hitting her, “not yet, baby. you gotta answer correctly.”

she grits her teeth to hold the tightening knot in the lower part of her stomach, “eight-point ninety-nine expansion positive nine–”

“there you go.”

      you take her tip back in your mouth, jerking the rest of her untouched dick. she cums in thick spurts, cock spasming, and her legs are shaking, making you moan softly when you taste her.

she weakly paws at your head when the pleasure you prolonged gets too much. but you think to yourself: she deserves a reward, doesn’t she?