#reader is referred to as Doc

[eureka-its-zico]

~CHAOS IN THEIR BONES~

Chapter Master List

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Season 1 East Blue Arc

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Loguetown Arc

Wanted

Synopsis: After the defeat of Arlong, at Arlong Park, the five of you promised to yourselves, and each other, to achieve your dreams on your way to the Grand Line helping Luffy search for the One Piece. It seems simple enough, except for the minor detail that you died. Coming back from the brink of death, Zoro and the others have noticed you haven’t been the same. You aren’t sure if it’s Death himself chasing after you or something far more sinister. But facing your inner demons won’t be the only fight you’ll have to worry about when family comes calling. 

Part 1

[twentyfourducks]

i had an idea to write something where where you and sunday were in a (sacred/implied to be blessed by the harmony) garden alone together. there is obvious romantic tension between you both....

...you confess to him and while he does reciprocate the feelings, he is hesitant to go forward with a relationship despire his desire for you.......however, he's been told throughout his life that he shall not harbor such desire towards others (implied religious guilt...or smth) and that he should devote himself wholly to THEM (and/or some other doctrine the family probably imbued within him)...

...ultimately, he does "eat the forbidden fruit" in the end (kisses you)

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Mess at Con

Part 2 of my piece for @cloudcountry's Sweet Shroud Summer 2024 event!

That's right, a continuation of Mess in Chat >w^

Content; Gender-neutral reader, convention shenanigans

Word Count; 1.3 K

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

You didn’t have many plans for summer, and working whenever you could barely counted as ‘plans’ save for your extremely bare and somewhat depressing calendar that just had your schedule up. But, that had changed when you met your previously strictly online bestie in the flesh, so, hey, maybe the barren dates of your calendar would finally have something written on them besides Work: 9 - 6.

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess How’s that sunburn treating you?

You knew you were being a little shit, but hey, Idia didn’t wear sunscreen on your venture in the swan boat and he was paying the price. Maybe you should get him one of those oversized sun hats?

Gloomurai Are you enjoying yourself with my suffering?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Just a little bit >w^

You had been a bit shocked when you saw the infamously introverted Ignihyde housewarden at work only then to find that he was also Gloomurai. But, you were also kind of relieved that he was someone you knew and not some creep.

Gloomurai Despite the peeling skin, I had … fun

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess GASP! Hehehehe my ways are winning you over

Gloomurai Gremlin

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess And proud of it!~

You hovered your fingers over your keyboard, trying to think of something.

Idia had seriously gone out of his comfort zone agreeing to meet you — well, more like having the occasion thrown at him — and you wanted to hang out again. Grim was … okay company, and Ace and Deuce dropped by every so often to give you a migraine. It was nice having a calmer person around (even though ‘calm’ may not be the best descriptor, but compared to the other company you keep, Idia is calmer).

Gloomurai YOU SHOULD TOTALLY TAKE IDIA TO A CON!!! ORTHO- Sorry, ignore that PLEASE

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Nuh uh

Gloomurai WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NUH UH’?!

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I mean NUH UH NOT IGNORING THAT (say hi to Ortho for me) … when’s the con? [convention right? anime? comics? Both?]

Gloomurai … both You don’t have to though-

You sighed knowing full well that Idia wanted you to go with him. 

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Are you cosplaying anyone?

Gloomurai … I wasn’t planning on it …

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess COWARD! DISHONOURING THE SANCTITY OF THE CON! … I’m joking

You could almost imagine Idia flinching away from the screen from you ‘yelling’ at him, but you couldn’t help but teasingly ruffle his feathers.

Gloomurai I didn’t peg you as the type to be passionate about these things

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Tsk tsk tsk YOU FOOL! I TAKE THESE MATTERS VERY SERIOUSLY! Plus, who else could stop you from spending Sevens knows how much money in artist alley?

Gloomurai So You actually want to come?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Y E S

Gloomurai It’s on Wednesday … where do you want to meet?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … I still live at the school, so Ramshackle works for me

Gloomurai F

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess That’s it No Grim privileges for you

Gloomurai NO WAIT GRIMMY-

You closed your laptop, trying to think of a low budget and preferable closet cosplay you could work with. Maybe you could snoop in the film club to see if they have any spare fabric or costumes that you could borrow? 

Low on funds and time, but when were you not? You would make this work.

…

…

Idia stood outside Ramshackle, yes, he could have waited in the nicely air conditioned car, but he felt weird about it. Fidgeting with his blue robes and wooden staff that was actually just foam, he waited.

He felt kind of bad at first, since making a cosplay last second is a hassle, but also because he felt like the outing was just thrown on you. After seeing how much you were shouting at him in chat though, Idia felt a bit better. He knew you were a nerd, after all, the two of you bonded online over a fairly popular anime adaptation of a manga.

Finally, you stepped out of the formerly dilapidated dorm, and Idia turned his head to look.

… you were both cosplaying characters from the same anime the two of you bonded over, him as the anxious magic user and you as the peppy paladin, complete with armour (thank you Film Club~). You guys didn’t even plan it out, which was weird but not too weird since you both kinda had brain rot about it.

“HA!” You exclaimed, adjusting the foam sword resting on your side, “we match!~”

Idia fixed the pointed ears he was wearing, “... I guess we do.”

Your face went serious for a quick moment. “You still don’t get to see Grim though.” You then flashed him a wink and got into the car — the faster you did that, the more likely that you didn’t waste time trying to find Grim and wasting time.

Idia pouted a bit but also got into the car, leaving a seat between you two. “I get dressed up with a wig, but no Grim,” he grumbled.

You sighed, “Next time.”

“Promise?”

You placed your fist over your heart, “I swear on my life.”

Idia just looked at you, most likely questioning his life decisions. “You’re weird.” Maybe they should be on the same weird list as Trey and Rook?

“Meh,” you shrugged. “That’s a compliment for me, plus,” you smiled at him, “it fits the character I’m cosplaying as!”

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, but not an awkward quiet, more … content? Yeah, content. Plus, knowing how cons went back at home, this was about to be a very busy day.

…

…

Somehow, you had managed to lose Idia. You had stopped several other people who were cosplaying the same character but hadn’t managed to find him yet. 

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Where are you?

You had been in the food court, tempted by the pizza but your soul had nearly left your body seeing the jacked up prices. You had been up and down the different voice actors meet and greets, but still nothing. You had even checked the bathroom lines and sat outside them for a solid ten minutes before calling that venture a quits.

There was no sign of Idia.

Finally, you got a message back.

Gloomurai … artist alley

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … how much did you spend?

Message seen

“DON’T LEAVE ME ON READ!” You coughed, realizing that you had said that out loud. Taking a breath and ignoring your stomach that was starting to growl, you made your way to artist alley, where many a con goer had gone in saying they would spend nothing, only to leave with many a thing (totally worth it, support artists and small businesses, folks).

Finally, after nearly two hours of being missing in action, you found Idia, who was carrying a copious amount of bags.

“This is where you disappeared off to?” You crossed your arms over your chest and raised a brow in question.

Idia offered you a wobbly smile, offered his hand and then opened it. “I got us matching phone charms…”

In his hand were the characters you were cosplaying. Sighing a bit, you took the charm of his character. “I was just worried about you,” you mumbled, trying to put the cute charm on your ancient phone.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t apologise,” you grabbed some of the bags from him to lessen the load a bit. “But for my own well being, please do not tell me how much you spent today.”

Idia looked at the charm connected to his own phone and then looked back at you. “Deal.”

“However,” you said with a sly grin, “since you put me through so much anguish, you do owe me dinner.”

Idia huffed, but he was starting to get peckish too. “What do you feel like eating, my knight,” he said sarcastically.

You wiggled your brows, “Pizza. Convention pizza.”

“So, regular pizza but just with jacked up prices?”

“Yeah, basically.”

The two of you got your pizza, and proceeded to enjoy the rest of your day. You both managed to see the manga artist of the characters you were cosplaying as — yes, tears were shed — and made some good memories.The two of you were happy, and you were looking forward to filling your calendar with Idia Time, you even knew the perfect blue marker to use.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @edith-is-a-cat, @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @ithseem, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[astxrwar]

"can we talk about 40s bucky" no. "can we talk about bucky in his 40s" yes. send tweet

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 8

Majora('s Mask)

*throws bouquet of roses* For the Time lovers.

Also my bias is probably coming through really strongly right now, but I'm not well rested enough to care plus I've been playing Majora's Mask a lot again this month, it's as important to me as Twilight Princess so this is kind of my love letter to it and Time and my excuse to explore the concept of Majora and the Fierce Deity and divinity in LoZ, though that's an essay for another day lol (/j)

As always can be read as romantic or platonic depending on your preferences, Reader is gender neutral and this is definitely self indulgent so it can be read in or outside of an LU context, most of the references to the LU names are for simplicity and to give a rough idea of why Reader has some stuff they do. Makes it easier to clarify lol, though as I've been hit by yet another storm the Linktober prompt will be for tomorrow, I'm basically picking a god and praying this actually posts X_X

TW(?):

Don't think there's any warnings besides MJM's typical body horror really, and very graphic descriptions and Majora in general.

Even after so, so long, so much so it feels like a lifetime ago, Termina still stuck with you and Time.

The thing about being in a timeloop that went on for who knows how long and whose failure to reset it would be total destruction to so many good different people, is that you quickly learn some habits to try and maximize as many successes as possible, how Time (Mask, then, after the living nightmare of Termina, during the War of Ages, still Link though) quickly learned the location of each enemy he could, how you learned to call out the best way to quickly assess and take down an enemy as quickly as possible, how you both learned to watch each other’s backs and to care for the people and Termina to the point Link went from just a warrior to a healer, granted the trust of holding the crystalization of the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina that, even if they couldn’t remember it, wanted the cycle to end, wanted to hunt the threat to reality itself and purge it from the world. To bite down onto it’s neck and feel the thrill and glee and cutting down such an opponent.

Most importantly, after bleeding, crying, sweating and toiling against the unrelenting flow of time and insanity all brought upon by a lonely child being left alone and manipulated to commit heinous acts as ‘pranks’. It taught you and Time the importance of contingency plans, and about always, always being prepared for any and all situations, unlikely as they could be. Of taking through note of even the smallest detail that caught your eyes at a glance.

‘To defeat an abomination, you need one of two things: A deity, or a monster.’, you think cynically to yourself, stepping over Time’s fallen form as Warriors bolted over with blizzard forged fury in his cold, calculated movements to defend him in your stead as you called Hyrule over, the young man quickly starting to heal your Hero as you glare down at the disgusting stain on reality engaging Twilight and Wild all at once, gleeful at having watched the person you adored the most fall, bringing out the ultimate contingency from your cloak, you hadn’t even told him about it, because you prayed you’d never need to resort to this, ‘… Forgive me, Link. The first option isn’t doable here.’

Time was your everything, you knew how his story ended, with so much grief until he finally met Twilight again. You tried, you really did, to not allow yourself to love him but it was impossible because he was Link, the man who longed for adventure ever since he was young, embodying the freedom of the forest of life and death that made up the whole of Faron Woods and the Lost Woods and as steady as it’s moors, voice quiet and calm like a stream in the woods and with and with a smile to rival the warm sun and so, so heartbreakingly kind. Who protected and saved and healed people while slowly healing his own soul and who attempted to soothe his descendant’s pain the second he could even from beyond the grave.

And you’d be darned if you allowed anything to take him from you or the boys before his time without a fight. You couldn’t care less if he would eventually die as he was destined to in every timeline, it didn’t matter if it was futile, because he mattered, you loved him, and you’d keep him safe and happy for as long as you could.

It didn’t matter if one day tragedy will catch up to him, it mattered that he was loved while alive.

Even if you had to step on fire to make sure of it.

“Twilight, Wild. Step away.”, the edges of the spikes of the purple and crimson mask that haunted your nightmares as much as it did Time’s, it leered at you with it’s arsenic and pus eyes, picking apart at your weaknesses as it’s spikes dug into your hand as you tightened your grip to keep if from shaking. Tone falsely confident as you called to the Hero of Twilight and Wild to retreat.

(‘To defeat an abomination, you need a deity or a monster.’

The definition is awfully interchangeable, if you look at it.

You had found it, abandoned and in a dungeon Wind’s Era, not quite awake, but not asleep either. The eldritch hunger almost chocking you with it’s voracity, the darkness assessing, stalking, prowling and starving, it prodded at you but didn’t dig yet. It knew how to play the long game in it’s quest to stop feeling empty.

Funny thing is, so did you. You were a lot harder to break than the Skull Kid, would not break.

Majora wanted to cease, like how it had ceased before the Terminan Tribe ripped it from it’s slumber, taught it hunger, taught it cruelty, taught it how to manipulate and take amusement in consuming the wishes of mortals and their very souls only to never be satisfied. Had fueled it with wrath from being ripped from a lovely, endless dream of beautiful songs and a kind soul. To be torn from it’s fantasy and then left to rot.

You offered to grant it a proper rest. And so a deal was struck. Your one contingency if the situation was truly dire, in case you couldn’t get the Fierce Deity Mask instead -because you knew how Link was, he’d burn himself out until there was naught but ash. You refused to let it ever come to that, after his excruciating screams of pain had clawed an aching, hurtful place into your very soul-, and Majora was starving and desperate, a dangerous combination for any being but something you could use.

So be it, if to protect divinity you needed to become a monstrosity, a monster was what you’d be.

You’d keep him safe. And you knew that if the Fierce Deity put him down once, he could do it again in case you slipped. Between him and Sky you weren’t afraid at all of the risk.

Even if Time never forgave you for taking it.)

You smile bitterly, tearing up in spite of yourself as you see the second Time spots you and the cursed artifact in hand, eye wide, voice ripping from his throat in desperation, “I’m quite selfish, I’m sorry.”

His haunted expression cuts you deeper than any knife, as you knew it was an image that featured in many of your nightmares and his own. But you’re insatiable for his happiness, so you take the plunge.

“NO NO NO NO DON’T-“

You put on the mask, and you scream.

It’s like stepping on fire, a twisted, desperate tune, a note of discord, a belt of harmony and fury and most importantly, the mighty need to consume the one who had tried to take the one you loved away from you.

Defy death, defy entropy, defy chaos, defy flame and voracity.

You cling to your self control with a snarl, howling in defiance. Sinking your nails into the abyss’ throat and biting, tearing, holding, tasting rot and withered flowers and the writhing of shadows and the blood of distorted gluttonousdivinity on your tongue with savagery equal to the way the demon sinks it's spikes onto you. Chew on it’s tender, rotting flesh, quaff down the lukewarm pus of it’s heart and the rust of blood as it bites off your skin, stripping your mind into chunks as it nests into your ribs like the spikes of wild, dead roses when it finds your mind tougher to break and you BURN YOU ARE LIFE YOU ARE CHAOS AND YOU ARE DROWNING AND YOU ARE FLAME-

You move, and Majora’s laugh sounds like a scream and a song as reality howls.

Your bones, sinew, muscles, nerves, veins and teeth are reformed, the being pounces, dancing, swerving, whipping, cleaving, ripping and feeding into the monsters with putrid, revolting gusto. Whenever it’s attention even tries to waver towards the Heroes you sink your hold in harder, stubborn, you’re sure there’s blood dripping from your mouth beneath the mask, your eyes, your ears, as it reaches a crescendo of glee and pain. A human body isn’t meant to hold so much divinity at once, much less as wretched and horrific as Majora’s, but you don’t care, can’t care, when you’re holding onto yourself like a vice, refusing to give it even a single inch.

It doesn’t kill Dark Link, the bastard (the one who’d hurt Time, the one who would have finished him off if not for you and Warriors). But the screech the Shadow releases as it gets ripped to shreds and the ripple of it’s retreating form is enough to make you partially agree with Majora’s vicious, amused glee that it was satisfying. Even if the feeling of you allowing it to utilize your skin temporarily felt revolting and disgusting in a way it made you wish you were actually on fire, not just in so much pain in a metaphysical level that it sure rivaled being set on fire, frost burned and lightning struck all in one go.

All is still now, all is silent.

Now comes the difficult part.

'Are you quite sure?', whispers Majora, crooning like nails on chalkboards, and it’s spikes sink into you tighter when you grip the sides of it, teeth gritted as you start prying it out of your face, amused by your defiance, but no longer as hungry. You did allow it quite the meal, you bet nothing like fellow divinity tastes better to the being, like the taste of a forbidden fruit you were going to be unfortunately acquainted given you’re sure Dark Link’s blood is on your teeth.

'Yes.' comes your faint response, as your sanity frays in fragile threads, you think someone calls your name, but you are drowning, you are burning, and you know that if you don’t focus it will break you. And you’d be fully dead before you let that happen. If you’re going to die you’re going to die as a human.

'Tou are so, so cold… So cruel.' It drawls, the demon’s voice like the gnawing of rats, like maggots under you skin, you convulse, falling to your knees with a wounded keen and pull harder, you barely noticed someone falling by your side, frantically calling your name, but the mask’s eyes dim to an outsider’s perspective, resigned as it hums dreamily, 'I suppose that’s why The Divine Hunter cares for you so, why it’s vessel’s claim is so strong.'

Good, you were banking on it being sleepy, after gorging yourself on the enemy of your boys, Hylia’s gash and Din’s assets your mouth is going to taste putrid for months isn’t it?

Majora hisses, growls, howls and screeches, a brush against your essence as it retreats. Unwinding from every single cell of your body, distorting your atoms back to their proper shape. It still hurts, buy it’s more bearable, although you quickly notice you’re chocking on a different form of Divinity, more possessive, more wild but just as old and ferocious as it snaps at the retreating heels of the twisted, chaotic thorns. Making reality remember your own shape quicker at the cost of filling every crack consumed by the demon.

You swear that thing is smiling smugly at something else, teeth bared and very entertained, taking the suffering of the people of Termina and the cold revulsion in your veins with it as it retreats with it's cacaphony of voices to the shade, 'A shame. Feasting more would be delightful, but very well. We trust that though you hurt today, tomorrow you’ll make sure we head on our way.'

You don’t have the mind or heart to say anything else to it, for it grows silent as the spikes rip from the sides of your face, you bite of a tortured yell as the spikes rip off chunks of skin and flesh, clawing at the ground with, thankfully, soothing, perfectly regular fingers and nails, albeit cracked, you feel someone take their hand in yours, and you crack open an eye, carefully aware of the blood dripping down your face from the half removal of the heart shaped mask and the thrum of thunder replacing the cold in your veins with boiling, protective warmth.

Time.

“You shouldn’t be up already.”, you rasp, looking over his wounded form, healed by Hyrule, you shakily take your left hand to keep prying at the Majora’s Mask, only for him to take it gently in yours, you taste blood, the petrichor of the Lost Woods mist and pine on the back of your mouth, chasing the rot of Majora away.

“It’s nothing, we both know I’ve had worse.” He says, firmly shaking his head. His scarred eye is open, ivory like bone, the markings more vibrant and prominent with the ferocity of a god, he looks tired, and you attempt to speak, to apologize, to voice your worry because you knew channeling the deity without a conduit was a bad idea, before coughing, shaking from the aftermath of your reckless, reckless plan.

(You unfortunately can’t say you regret it much, though, when you silently bear the combined brunt of Time and Fierce Deity’s care once you reach camp and the protective way they act towards you. Even though Majora is long gone much to your resigned exasperation, and the rest of your boys amusement, but that is for much, much later.)

Time gently hums, it rings through you like thunder as he holds you close, tapping your neck in a rhythm you could recognize in your sleep for when he was about to pull arrows, blades or shrapnel from your skin, or was ready to have it done to himself, you immediately loosen yourself as much as possible, gripping his hand tightly as he rips the rest of the Majora’s Mask off, inert and lifeless as when you’ve both woke up from a new day, he holds you close as you try to breathe, reassuring himself you’re still here, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Please.” He pleads, begs, prays. He can't lose you too.

And you can’t help it, you smile as you cry crimson and russet tones from your eyes, holding him back as close as you dare to. He doesn’t hate you, you’re sure you’re going to soon participate in the argument of a lifetime. But Link doesn’t hate you, doesn’t see you as a monster any more than you could ever see him as anything but the kind companion you always knew.

So you let yourself nod, helpless to say no to him for anything really. And allow yourself to breathe, you’re both going to be alright.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Hello! If you are still taking Bingo requests, would you please consider doing "you're never going to believe this" with Hunter? All I can picture with this is that scene from Community with the guy walking in with the pizza to find utter chaos has broken out. I think it would be great with Doc but please do as you'd like. Thank you! :)

"You're not going to believe this" - CRB

Okay so maybe it was just the topic. Cranked this baby out yesterday, but was too tired to proofread, so yuh get a morning update!

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved!

Clone x Reader Bingo!

Warnings: Fighting, broken nose, blood, light medical procedures, mild guilt, bit of sexual tension, reference to bullying

WC: 3,797

“It’s actually been quite the subject of controversy among numerous scientific circles.” Tech didn’t bother looking up from his datapad as he rambled, food untouched on the tray before him as his leg bounced with an eager anticipation that shook the entire bench. “The planet has long been presumed to sustain intelligent life, but, despite several well-supplied scouting expeditions, not so much as a broken piece of pottery has been found to support that theory.”

“We’re not going there to search for new sentient species, Tech.” Echo reminded, words torn between a weary exasperation and the fond smirk touching his lips.

“It would be unwise to rule out the possibility of unknown lifeforms being responsible for the disappearances we are being sent to investigate.” The pilot rebuked, glancing up from the screen with a look of petulant determination that left me biting back a grin. As though only just remembering that we were in the dining hall after his meal happened to enter his line of sight, he absently reached out to take a quick bite of what I hesitated to call ‘pudding’ before returning to his research.

“Are there any other theories on what happened to the last two squads sent down there?” I asked, knowing he’d be only too happy to grant me everything known about our next assignment that was conveniently omitted from the mission report.

“The precious metals they were sent to find are notoriously difficult to detect with long-range scanners and have proven… troublesome in large quantities as their magnetic qualities can impair proximity sensors and even short-range coms.” My lips tensed into a thin line, just managing to refrain from letting my face twist into the fear that threatened to flood my veins with adrenaline, pointedly ignoring Echo’s apologetic cringe.

“So, they crashed.” I stated bluntly.

“Likely, yes.” He answered without hesitation, attention never wavering from whatever document had captured his interest. I drew a deep, slow breath before speaking again.

“Tech.” The crispness with which I called his name immediately pulled his gaze toward me. “I want you to lie to me and promise me you won’t crash the ship.” I stated with neither shame nor apology, carefully emotionless expression unchanged beneath the flash of confusion that stole through him.

“…That seems… counterintuitive…” He objected.

“Yup.” The word left in a quick chirp. I watched his jaw shift, as though testing various responses as his mind worked over what, exactly, I was asking for.

“I,” he started slowly, “am fully aware of the potential dangers, and, as such, will be far better equipped to anticipate and safely navigate any undocumented mineral deposits.” Echo turned purposefully toward his own meal in a vain attempt to hide his smile.

“Thank you, Tech.” He hesitated a moment longer, confusion almost worsened by my routine reply.

Even above the roar of countless soldiers conversing and squabbling about us, the bark of laughter rang with painful clarity. I didn’t try to keep from glancing toward it, but, the instant I saw the slump of Wrecker’s shoulders as he made his way towards us with his second tray of rations, the way his gaze seemed to carefully avoid looking anywhere he might accidentally meet someone’s eyes, sent my heart racing, blood warming beneath a quiet rage.

“Hunter and Crosshair still stuck in tha’ meeting?” He asked, vainly forcing some hint of nonchalance into his voice.

“Yeah; no word yet on when they’ll finish.” Echo answered, offering a sympathetic smile to his brother as the tall clone sat just opposite him at our table.

“It is unlikely”

“What did he say?” Despite the way those words left in a whisper, it was enough to silence Tech instantly. I felt the soft smile settle over my lips as I looked up to find Wrecker chewing nervously on his lip, searching for any excuse to dismiss my concerns. “What did he say, Wrecker?” I asked again in a gentle murmur. He finally gave a dismissive shrug.

“Nothin’, really… jus’ the usual ‘all brawns, no brains’ stuff – wasn’ even that funny.” He tried to brush it off, but he still wouldn’t quite look at me.

“Oh no.” I drawled in some pathetic mockery of remorse as I swatted the remaining half of my bowl of ‘veggie crisps’ onto the floor, “Guess I should get something to clean this up.” I was halfway across the room by the time they recovered enough to react.

“Uh… sh… should we…” Wrecker started, stammering slightly. The table with the man who’d insulted him all turned to me as I approached, each of them sporting some combination of curiosity and haughty excitement, some even blowing kisses. I said nothing as the one I was focused on turned to see what his brothers were staring at, offering no warning as my fist lashed out, driven by the full force of my body coiling behind the strike.

“Yeah – yup. Kriff.” I only vaguely heard the screech of chairs over Echo’s gasped reply as they jumped to their feet, but my focus was locked on the clone before me, on the rush of crimson flooding his lip and slipping between his fingers as he belatedly threw himself to his feet, reaction just slow enough for me to get another hit in. He nearly dodged it, but my knuckles still grazed his brow enough to split the skin.

“Not so clever now, are you?” I snarled, rushing forward in feint to punch him again. He swung his arm up to deflect it, granting me ample opening to slam my forehead into his already ruined nose. I didn’t hear the chorus of shouting around me. Someone grabbed my arms, hauling me back.

“Say it again!” I roared, thrashing in a vain effort to tear myself free, only vaguely noting that the man restraining me wasn’t one of mine. “Say it again! I’ll make sure you have to drink those damn ration bars for the a month!” A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that Echo, Tech and Wrecker were straining to fight their way through the crowd of regs that swarmed the pathways between tables for a better view.

“Hunter, yuh might… might wanna get down here quick.” Wrecker’s voice carried easily over the deafening cacophony of shouts and jeers booming through the massive room. I couldn’t make out even the deep hum of Hunter’s reply, but nearly chuckled at what Wrecker said next, “Yeah… you’re not gonna believe this…”

The clone I’d struck finally regained his composure and stormed toward me, lips twisted into a scowl as he drew a sharp breath, but I didn’t care to allow him time for whatever attempt at a reprimand he intended. In a single, fluid motion, I careened my head back to crash into the face of the man holding me at the same time as I drove my heel down atop his foot. Caught off-guard by the assault, his hold loosened just enough to throw myself forward, tackling my target to the ground.

The violent huff of air being forced from his lungs was satisfying in a way few things are, but I allowed myself not even a moment’s pause to enjoy it before twisting to wrench his arm up, locking it between my thighs as I jerked his hand toward my chest, straining the elbow with just enough force to draw a bark of pain from him. I knew he was barely fledged, knew he likely wouldn’t even be fit to leave Kamino for several months, and I’d used that knowledge mercilessly. He was cocky and brash, and he was certain to underestimate me. Against a fully trained soldier, I’d have stood no chance, but one hindered by youth and overconfidence…

“Doc! Stand! Down!” Hunter shouted every word, forcing himself through the crowd toward me, and I almost felt some hint of remorse at the anger in his eyes. In the torrent of my own rage, however, I held the foolish soldier for just a moment longer. “Now!” He growled, stalking across those final feet between us. Only then did I notice how near the others were, hands flared, uncertain how best to help as they stared at me in shock.

Finally, I released him, making no move to stand as the clone threw himself clear of me, strained arm held tightly to his chest. Without a word, Hunter grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I didn’t try to fight him as he turned and dragged me from the mess hall.

While our barracks was far from nearby, I was still slightly surprised when he veered away from it toward the hanger. Still, that silence lingered between us through each endless minute. His grip never left my arm, but, the instant we were out of sight of the others, his touch had softened into something I couldn’t bring myself to want to pull away from, allowing him to guide me through the maze of immaculately kept identical hallways, across the open expanse of the nearly empty hanger, and up the ramp into the relative privacy of the Marauder’s cabin.

The instant that ramp closed behind us, shrouding the room in a darkness the emergency lights did little to lessen, the instant we were hidden from wandering eyes, he wrenched me against him, arm locking around my back as his other hand tangled into my hair in a desperate embrace. I could feel the faintest shutter in the deep sigh the escaped him, felt the warmth of his breath flutter atop my scalp sending a flush of gooseflesh across my skin; felt his lips rest lightly atop the crown of my head as he curled subtly around me, and I couldn’t help but freeze.

“Are you okay?” The depth of concern in those whispered words left me staggering. His hand slipped free of my hair to gently cup my cheek, leaning back just enough to meet my gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Y… yeah.” I was surprised to find how my voice caught, stammering slightly. “Hunter, I’m… I’m fine.” I tried to reassure him, reaching up to let my fingers trail softly over his wrist in an innate need to offer some manner of comfort in the face of his… what? Fear? Was he afraid?

He let out another deep breath, shoulders sinking as some of the tension coiling through his powerful form began to ease, but he didn’t pull away from me.

“When Wrecker said you’d gotten into a fight with a reg…” He started, trying, failing, to explain, but he didn’t need to say more. I knew what horrors plagued his memories of such things; knew why, even now, such a rift lay between his brothers and most every other clone born of Fett’s DNA.

“Didn’t think you’d find me torturing one in an arm bar?” I offered with a small smile, and he left out a reluctant scoff.

“No.” He admitted quietly, but then he fell back into that silence, jaw tensing as he thought carefully over his words before granting them voice. “You got lucky, Doc… and you know that.” An apology just lingered beneath the unmistakable accusation, and I couldn’t dismiss the way my chest tightened at the truth in his words.

“Yeah.” I whispered, refusing to turn away from him even in the admission of my foolishness because he and I both knew I didn’t regret it. I knew no clone would have killed me under those circumstances; however, one with more experience, one who’d seen the horrors of war and knew not to hesitate… His thumb swept slowly over my cheek, touch barely caressing my skin as though he were worried even that might break me.

With a final sigh, he stepped back, hands dragging against me greedily for those fleeting seconds of contact before turning his gaze toward the aft of the ship.

“Come on.” He murmured, already treading down the hallway. I paused for just a moment before following a few steps behind him. He’d already retrieved my scanner by the time we reached the medbay.

“Your hands.” He explained at my confusion. I glanced down, hands flaring out between us to find the skin atop several knuckles torn and smeared in blood that had long since darkened into a tacky coating already beginning to flake at the edges. Without waiting for me to get over that initial shock, he swept the device over them in search of fractures, and I didn’t need to read the results. The relief that stole through him confirmed little more than soft tissue had been injured.

“I can do that, Hunter.” Even as the claim left my lips, I knew it was useless as he gathered what basic supplies were needed to tend the minor wounds. He merely let out a quiet hum in response, already reaching for my left hand. Resigned, I merely watched in silence as he carefully cleaned away the blood before covering each knuckle in a fine layer of bacta and wrapped them with a precision that spoke of a lifetime of treating this exact injury.

When he let his eyes wander back to mine, he again brought his hand up to slide over my cheek, and I couldn’t dismiss the way my heart jumped, but then he drew a rag up to sweep over my forehead and I was briefly shocked to see the crimson stain the fabric, but then his brows drew together in confusion.

“Did you… You headbutt him?” He asked skeptically, and I couldn’t help the quiet laughter from escaping me. With another scoff, he dragged the cloth once more over my skin to rid the final traces of blood before releasing me.

“They changed the schedule. We’re leaving tonight.” He stated, absently cleaning up the mess of used supplies as he spoke. “Think you can finish restocking by then?” Swallowing back the lingering thrill from his touch, the chill I so wanted to pretend didn’t exist in that very moment he’d turned away from me, I had to tear my gaze away from those powerful hands before I could answer him.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.” I replied, finally drawing some motion into my limbs to help him finish up.

“Alright; I’ll go fill the others in. We’ll meet you back here.” He paused after into a single step into the main hall. “No more picking fights.” The weariness in his voice nearly managed to silence my rebuttal. As I drew breath to argue, the hint of a glare that narrowed his eyes proved enough to stifle that final trace of rebellion urging me to justify my actions. Still, I granted myself a short huff of air in an unspoken rebuttal, and the way his shoulders shook beneath a nearly suppressed chuckle left my heart soaring.

-

The crate beside me was quickly filling up as I loaded it with various goods, mindlessly checking my list every few minutes to keep track of my progress. The sound of the door hissing open didn’t warrant even a fleeting thought. This was one of the main supply stores. It wasn’t uncommon to find numerous people in here at once. Only when that deep voice I’d heard countless times from countless faces breached the stillness of the large, cluttered room did I finally grant them any notice.

“Hey, you got a minute?” The innate openness in my expression as I turned to answer the clone instantly hardened upon recognizing the split eyebrow and freshly broken nose, but he quickly raised his hands in a plea for peace. “I’m not here to fight.” He reassured me quietly. I studied him in silence for a moment longer before letting my gaze soften slightly. I loathed the twinge of guilt that twisted through my chest at the painful swelling plaguing his nose, at the dark bruises stretching up his eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to simply leave it. With a slow breath, I reached down to close the crate.

“Sit.” It wasn’t quite an order, but neither was it an invitation.

“What?” The word fell from his lips before his mind had fully processed what I’d said, and, without my needing to repeat myself, moved to obey me. Helping myself to the supplies around us, I began with his brow. While it had clearly been granted a rushed cleaning earlier, I addressed it as I would any wound until it was neatly sutured before turning my attention to his nose.

Whatever reason he’d actually sought me out seemed to vanish as he sat frozen beneath my ministrations, eyes just a bit too wide, breath just shy of shallow, pointedly trying to look anywhere but me aside from the accidental glance the left him quickly turning away, cheeks flushing.

“Do you know what chemical you can add to a droid popper to turn it into an incendiary grenade?” I asked without preamble, delicately palpating his nose with my thumb to gauge the severity of the break. The instant his attention shifted, mind flitting between focusing on my voice and thinking over the question itself, I quickly wrenched the cartilage straight, tucking a rag against it to catch the fresh surge of blood before he’d even finished biting back the sharp grunt of pain. I cocked my brow expectantly when he looked back up at me.

“Uh… n… no.” He finally muttered, clearly fighting the urge to grind his teeth.

“Hold this.” I instructed, shifting the cloth slightly. Once his hand replaced mine, I began applying a thick layer of bacta over the inflamed skin.

“Know who does?” I continued as though nothing had happened. I saw the moment understanding swept through him, and he yielded beneath the need to tense his jaw, gaze quickly dropping to the far corner of the floor. “What’s your position in your squad?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, mind churning in a vain attempt to anticipate why I’d asked.

“Heavy gunner.” He answered, and I was surprised to find his voice free of resentment, to hear a softness in the following silence as he waited for me to speak.

“I assume you’re the only heavy gunner in your batch?” He nodded, glancing almost timidly up at me. “Having that specialty… do you think you make your squad stronger because of it?” There. Before I’d even finished the question, his eyes nearly closed, shoulders falling slightly. He was young and impulsive, but he clearly wasn’t as foolish as I’d initially written him off to be. Even as he reached the conclusion I’d yet to voice, he maintained that quiet, granting me as much time as I wanted to breathe life into some grand meaning.

“Wrecker’s quick thinking and kindness in addition to his strength have saved my life several times during this war.” I continued, carefully applying adhesive strips across the bridge of his nose to stabilize the cartilage while it healed. “If you hurt him again, you’re going to need more than a tube of bacta to patch you up.” I spoke those final words as a simple statement of fact as I stepped away. His head tilted down slightly in a useless attempt to hide the grin he couldn’t quite fight back.

“How’s the elbow?” His gaze flicked back up me to before turning to the joint. He briefly stretched it before answering.

“A bit stiff, but it’ll be fine by morning. That’s not the first time I’ve been caught in one of those.” He explained, and I could hear the smirk still playing with his lips.

“Good.” I chirped, “then get up – I still have work to do.” He didn’t move for a fraction of a second before quickly jumping to his feet.

“Um, I can… I can help.” He offered, “Least I can do since you spent all that time fixing me up.” I nearly turned him away, but I was in a bit of a rush. Just as I began to respond, however, his com chimed with an incoming message. The rueful look that he shot me left me rolling my eyes as I nodded toward the exit dismissively.

“Oh,” He called, pausing halfway through the door. “What chemical is it?” It took a moment for me to realize what he was asking, but then I gave him a halfhearted shrug.

“You’d have to ask him.” I answered. “I have no idea.” His grin fell for barely half a beat before returning with renewed vigor.

“I will.”

Mere seconds after he left, the door slid open once more. Brow hitched, I glanced up expecting to find that same clone returning, but was surprised to see Crosshair stepping into the room just enough to lean back against the wall.

“Flirting with regs, now?” The familiar rasp of his voice held the faintest hint of resentment that almost gave me pause.

“I swear, you’ve got to be the only person I know to mistake ‘threatening’ with ‘flirting’.” I nearly groaned before resuming my task.

“No mistaking his grin…” He retorted, and I could feel the unspoken words sitting like poison in his throat, but he forced himself to remain silent, instead reaching into a pocket to grasp a toothpick.

“Did you just come here to throw accusations around, Crosshair?” I sighed wearily, unwilling to devote the energy into bashing my head against a wall in some futile effort to change his mind.

“Hunter sent me a com; said I should keep an eye on you. Clearly, there was nothing to worry about.” He added, narrowed eyes shifting back to mine as he flicked the sliver of wood over his lips. Returning his glare, I roughly dropped the box of fresh bandages into the crate.

“If you want to be jealous and pouty, go ahead.” I sighed dismissively as I turned away from him. The silence lingered heavily between us, but I refused to grant him the satisfaction of yielding beneath it. When I finally finished my list and hoisted the crate up to lean against my chest, he finally spoke.

“Were you?” I paused midstep at the quiet question, shifting to find him staring blindly at some distant point past my hip.

“Was I what?” I pressed when he offered nothing more.

“Flirting.” I nearly dropped the crate.

“Uh, n… no, Cross.” I answered, cursing the heat crawling up my neck. Without a word, he pushed himself away from the wall and, with just a few long strides, tread towards me. I barely had time to think before he was pulling the box from my grasp and found myself staring dumbly at the broad expanse of his shoulders as he began walking down the hall. Forcing myself to draw a steadying breath, I followed quickly behind him.

Continue Reading

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine your siblings child referring your F/O as their Uncle/Aunt because you two have been together so long !!

You've been together practically their whole lives, whether your F/O is good with/likes kids, they were always around when you babysat (Because you live together. Maybe they were helping you with your niece/nephew! Maybe they were just watching TV in the same room and got dinner ready so you could continue keeping an eye on the baby. Maybe they hid away in your shared bedroom the whole time but the child always knew they were there), they maybe even went to family gatherings with you!- they have just been a constant in your niece/nephews life. Just like you.

In this kids mind, you and your F/O are a package deal.

[aro-aizawa]

@ anyone familiar w it. please,,, i beg you please tell me how to make epub files that aren't reliant on it looking pretty. all im looking for is how to make it a chunk of text that i can put into my screen reader. please,,, i want to cry

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[hhughes]

Jack keeps an elastic around his wrist for AT!reader bc she always forgets hers when she's behind the bench

you sigh in annoyance as a strand of hair falls in front of your eyes when you bend over to grab the tape you dropped. a couple of the guys glance at you when you blow the hair out of your eyes, your frustration visible.

“you okay doc?” nico asks, the doting captain always noticing whenever anyone seems a little bit off even if he was still trying to catch his breath from his last shift.

you try not to roll your eyes at the “doc” title he refers to you at, probably picking it up from Jack, as most of the guys have by now. although you had to admit, it was slightly more endearing with his Swiss German accent and Bambi eyes.

“I’m fine Neeks,” you wave the captain off, not wanting to make a big deal of something so insignificant.

“what’s got you huffing and puffing back there then? trying to blow our house down?” curtis jokes and a couple of the surrounding players chuckle as you flick him on the side of his helmet.

you turn your attention back to the ice, hoping the guys would do the same as most of their focus was on you and commotion that was being caused.

“what’s going on?” jack asks softly, leaning back slightly and glancing at you.

“doc has a problem,” jesper says and jack immediately frowns, looking you up and down, twice, before meeting your gaze

“what’s wrong?” he asks, turning his body a full 180 to talk to you and you get the urge to laugh over how many people are going to be speculating that he’s harboring an injury just because he’s talking to you on the bench right now.

“nothing,” you insist and he just tilts his head slightly, making a move as to reach for you but he retracts his hand when he remembers where he is and sees the fans behind the glass trying to get his attention.

“what’s wrong?” he asks again, tone making it clear he’s not taking your obvious lie as an answer and when you see the assistant coach glance at the two of you, you do the only thing that’s gonna make Jack stop asking.

“my hair is annoying me. I forgot my hair tie,” you explain and Jack’s lips immediately tilt up as he holds his wrist out, his chest fluttering at the sweet smile you send him in thanks when you grab it and tie your hair back.

“why do you have a hair tie?” curtis asks, and you shuffle from one foot to the other when you realize most of the guys are still focused on your conversation than the game.

“him and Nico braid each other’s hair during intermission. you haven’t noticed it? s’real cute,” you say, failing to keep the humor out of your voice and the guys laugh, while nico and jack just send you little glares.

when the next line jumps onto the ice for their shift, jack ends up right in front of you as the guys shuffle around and you put a hand on his right shoulder, bending down to whisper a soft “thank you” in his ear and you ignore the butterflies going crazy in your stomach as he turns his head to meet your gaze, sends you that signature jack grin and mumbles a “you’re welcome,”

[reidsworld]

Parties

Summary: Spencer, Reader's boyfriend, gets jealous of the Readers family friend at a party.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: fake blood, fake knife and axe, Spencer being jealous, cursing, kissing, hickeys, semi-public oral sex(m receiving), face-fucking, praise/degradation, I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything! — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!!

Word Count: 1.7K+

A/N: For the readers parents house I was envisioning something like the Mikaelson mansion from TVD. The reader is described as having longer hair w/ curtain bangs! This is also my first fic so sorry if its bad lmaoo

Masterlist

Walking onto the jet, you sat next to Penelope, across from Spencer. This case had been a hard one, Hotch had Penelope come along as you needed all hands on deck.

ping!

You sigh taking out your phone to see a text from your mom.

Mother Call me, please.

"What's wrong, Sweets?" Penny asks, concern lacing her tone.

"Nothing, my mom is just trying to call me and I really don't want to deal with her right now." You reply with a groan. You click on your Mothers profile, hitting the call button. She picks up right away.

"Sweetie, let your team that they're invited to this year's Halloween party. Your father and I agreed on the Friday- the 25th, but we would appreciate your input on the date. It starts at 8 PM" she says into the line.

"Alright, the 25th sounds good. If we have a case I might not be able to come," you say with a fake-disappointed tone, praying that a case came up on the day of the party.

"Your father and I are excited to see you so please try to be there."

"Well I can't really control when serial killers decide to strike but you know, I'll try!"

Sighing, your Mother speaks, "Don't be like that honey, your father and I are very excited to see you. If it's any encouragement to come, Julius will be there!"

"Alright fine, I'll try my hardest to be there." you say, smiling at the name.

You exchange 'goodbye's' and 'I love you's' with each other before you hang up.

“Who’s Julius?” Morgan asks with a smirk, drawing your attention to rest of the team who’s staring at you. Spencer couldn't help but feel jealous at the way you smiled at this ‘Julius’ person.

“How did you-? And you’ll meet him at the Halloween party my parents are having on the Friday 25th at 8 PM. No extremely scandalous costumes or my parents will probably never invite you guys back.” You say with a laugh.

Luckily, on the day of the party there was no case. Even so, you had asked Hotch to get off early as you needed to get ready for the party and be there early, as per your parent's request.

Once he agreed, you rushed home and showered before getting ready. You wore a black velvet strapless body-con dress that cut mid-thigh. You had fishnet stockings and black gloves that reached just below your elbows. There was a knife strapped to your leg as well. You had your hair down, styled with curtain bangs.

Once you finished getting changed, you put on dark red lipstick, mascara, and did cat eye eyeliner. Finally, to complete the look, you grabbed the scream mask and rested it to sit securely on top of your head as if you had pulled it up to reveal your face.

You grabbed a small black handbag and put on some Doc Martens, heading out the door to your parents mansion.

Once you got there, their mansions was decked out with Halloween decorations. You parked your car in the garage and went inside.

"Y/N, sweetie, we missed you so much!" Your mother greeted as her and your father hugged you.

"I missed you guys too. And I love the costumes." You said when you pulled away from the hug, referring to their matching Gomez and Morticia Addams costumes.

"Thank you," your father smiled.

It was 8:45 and most of the guests had arrived, so you decided to go and mingle.

You were standing by the food when you heard a voice come from behind you.

"You look good, baby," Spencer said, giving you a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him. He held a fake bloody axe in the one hand and he was wearing a suit with a clear rain coat on top of it. He had his hair slicked back and fake blood splatter covered his face.

"Thank you, you make a hot Patrick Bateman," you winked.

"Well hello gorgeous." You turned to see someone that you hadn't seen in years.

"Julius! Hi, oh my gosh, don’t you look handsome. It's so good to see you." You smiled, hugging him. He was dressed in a orange jump suit with handcuffs on one hand. When he pulled away, you could see him check you out.

"It's good to see you too, love," He grinned.

Spencer would deny being jealous of how low Julius had his hand on your back, of how you smiled and hugged him. But who was he kidding, he was incredibly jealous. So, he stepped forward, wrapping an arm around you, smirking.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me, baby?"

You smiled, knowing exactly what Spencer was doing, "Spencer, this is Julius. Julius, this is my boyfriend Spencer."

Julius stuck his hand out for Spencer to shake. "I don't shake hands, too many germs. But it's nice to meet you," Spencer said, leaving Julius hanging.

"I'll be back, Spence, I gotta go to the washroom."

With that you walked off into a hallway, Spencer following quickly behind you. When he caught up, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the laundry room, locking the door behind you.

“Spencer what are you—”

Your words were cut off as he pushed you up against the door, smashing his lips on yours. His hands roaming all over your body as you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on it and earning a soft groan from his lips.

He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan, before breaking the kiss moving his lips down your neck. He lightly bites down on a spot before soothing it with his tongue. He repeats this all over your neck, surely leaving multiple hickeys.

"Fuck, you see what you've done to me? Walking around with that pretty little outfit and flirting with some other guy who would never be able to make you feel as good as I do," he speaks with a low tone, pushing your hips against his growing bulge as his hands grope your ass.

His words make you weak at the knees, the pool in your panties building with every passing second. Spencer's eyes are filled with hunger and lust as he pulls you in for another kiss.

"On your knees," he says into the kiss, lightly pushing you down by your shoulders. You get on your knees, making quick work of taking off his pants.

You slide off his boxers, freeing his cock, precum leaking out of the tip. You grin before licking a stripe up the underside of it, making him groan.

You spread the precum around the head of his dick before taking it in your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head. Spencer's breathing picks up and you start taking more of it into your mouth.

He takes the mask off the top your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. He grips your hair, making a make-shift ponytail. You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head.

You swirl your tongue around his dick as you suck harder. He groans and throws his head back, "shit, baby." As you take more of his dick into your mouth, his hips buck, hitting the back of your throat.

You gag around his dick, making him let out a low groan. He looks down at you for approval before he starts thrusting into your mouth.

He fucks your throat, making you gag and moan around his dick. Tears begin to fall at the feeling and restriction of air flow. He pulls back a bit, letting you get some air.

Once you give him a small nod, he resumes his motions. "Fuck Y/N you take my cock like such a good little slut.”

You feel his dick begin to twitch in your mouth, indicating that he’s close. You look up at him as he pushes in and out of your mouth, moaning so loudly, you're sure people can hear you.

"I'm close," Spencer moans, sloppily thrusting into your throat, hitting the back every time. After a couple more thrusts, he pushes his dick as far into your throat as he can, making you gag. The vibrations send him over the edge. He holds your head still, sending warm ropes of cum down the back of your throat.

He pulls out and looks at you, your mascara is running and your hair is a mess, "you look so pretty like this baby." He caresses your cheek before helping you up onto your feet. He pulls his boxers and pants back on before kissing you on the forehead.

"I love you," you smile at him.

"I love you too."

He picks your mask up off the ground and hands it to you. You take him to the washroom and take out makeup wipes from the cabinet. He helps you take off your make up so you can reapply it.

You both walk out of the room and into the hallway. Just as your leaving you bump into Julius. His eyes flicker down to the dark marks scattered across your neck and Spencer smirks.

"We're leaving now, it was good to see you," You smile at him, holding Spencer's hand.

"Yeah, you too."

As soon as you got home, Spencer pulled you onto the couch to straddle him. His lips were on yours, engaging in a heated kiss. His hands roamed to the back of your dress, pulling the zipper down and sliding the dress down to your hips.

He unclipped your bra, freeing your breasts. he pulled back, looking down and grinning.

"Are you just gonna stare or are—” You were cut off by Spencer's lips on your nipple making you moan. He swirled his tongue around the bud as his other hand kneaded your other breast. You were moaning, running your hands through his hair.

Just as he was about to move to the other nipple, your phone pinged. You groaned and got off him. you walked over to your phone and unlocked it.

Mother Your car is still here...?

Y/N I'll pick it up in the morning, I went home in someone else's car

With that you put your phone down and walked over to Spencer, swaying your hips.

"Now, where were we?"

A/N: chat I’m rlly debating posting this rn. I wrote it in 2022 and now, 2 years later, I found it in my drafts. I decided to edit it and fix it up a bit. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, when I first found it, I expected it to be a lot worse lmao. lmk what you think of it!! if no one reads this I’m taking it down cause I’m kinda out of my criminal minds phase lol. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[ovaryacted]

─ Variant! Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k

CW: None. Sort-of fluffy content/slice of life. Alcohol consumption. Kissing at the end. Just relationship dynamics and a growing yearning from grumpy Logan.

You knew I wasn't done talking about Logan right? Well, in this case, we are talking about Variant! Logan aka the Worst Logan from the Deadpool & Wolverine movie. I just got on the doc and thought about him, and this could've been a fic but this is what I came up with. This is also the first time I've written in this kind of format like "headcanons" but as you continue its basically a fic lol. Had to talk about this version of him because I am very fond of it and I loved him, truly. Anyway, hope y'all like it. <3

Variant! Logan who gets introduced to you on Wade’s account and it’s a complete accident. You stumbled into the apartment asking for the bottle of wine he had yanked from you earlier in the week.

Variant! Logan who observes you from afar as you walk into the kitchen, reaching toward one of the higher cabinets to grab the bottle of prosecco you desperately wanted. The moment you turn around to spot a whole new stranger in the room, you pivot to Wade and ask “Who’s the big guy?”

Variant! Logan who gets pressured by Wade to formally introduce himself and shake your hand, fingers mindfully wrapping around yours as he catches your name after saying his. He notices the way you smiled up at him, bright and charming, before turning to give Wade a friendly kiss on the cheek and waltzing back out.

Variant! Logan who quickly begins to get used to your presence, frequently stopping by Wade’s place to drop off dinner, cooked pastries, and alcohol. Your cooking definitely beat the emergency pizza and sandwiches Wade constantly got for him. Not to mention you made a mean tiramisu he grows addicted to craving.

Variant! Logan who often spots you chatting with Wade over anything and everything under the sun. He can’t recall the multiple pop culture references you both shared, or how you managed to make him laugh with your corny jokes, but he’s not complaining.

Variant! Logan who sits on the left side of you when you come by for movie nights or to binge-watch reality TV shows with Wade. You’d be munching away at some popcorn, wearing matching PJs with him while Logan leans into his side of the couch nursing a beer.

Variant! Logan who catches your glances as you hand him the popcorn bowl to grab a handful. He reaches for it, large palm grasping several kernels and munching on them one by one. Your eyes met his for a brief second before returning to the screen, and Logan swears you were grinning.

Variant! Logan who is uneasy speaking to you when Wade isn’t around, not wishing to make you uncomfortable with his grumpy attitude. You don’t mind either way, walking into the apartment to drop off some food and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels for Logan as a proper welcome present. He didn’t expect a gift, or for you to even be thinking about him at all, but he’s glad you’ve allowed him space in your mind.

Variant! Logan who is more comfortable talking to you in person outside of grunts and nods. Despite babbling like Wade and having an equally foul mouth, you could hold an actual conversation in comparison to the other. Hearing your voice was also a plus.

Variant! Logan who is surprised when you bring him a book you think he might like, something about contemporary American history that felt like something up his alley. It was the first book that got him back into reading, and slowly but surely, he finds himself reading a little every night when Wade isn’t snoring his ears off.

Variant! Logan who gets invited to dinner at your place with Wade tagging along, something to celebrate your job promotion. Wade is really only there for the food and the lemon pound cakes you saved, munching away and telling you about the dickhead he just stabbed not too long ago. And though Logan wants to pretend he’s there for the hard liquor you only reserve for him, deep down he knows he came for you too.

Variant! Logan who enjoys the quiet moments with you, sneaking away to your apartment when you offer and lounging on the couch with another book in his hand. You sit across from him on the armchair, quietly reading on your end. He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you look at him from the corner of your eye, forcing him to flip to the next page.

Variant! Logan who isn’t paying attention to the current film playing on the TV, another late movie night with The Godfather on the screen. Wade had already fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and you dozed off at the 2 hr mark. Your body had ended up leaning against Logan’s, naturally gravitating to his warmth and stability. He could have moved you to let you sit up straight, but instead he moves his arm from resting on the back of the couch to wrap around your shoulder. His breath hitches when you move in closer to him, and he thinks you can hear his heart pounding in his ribs.

Variant! Logan who catches himself peeking at you for longer periods of time. It didn’t matter if your back was facing him, or if you were too busy showing Wade the latest TikTok trend. His eyes always seemed to drift to you, and it would be worse when you caught him looking. He’ll blow it off and huff as if he were irritated, missing how you smiled to yourself from the interaction.

Variant! Logan who has to take shit from Wade teasing him over his obvious not so obvious crush. “C’mon man, just tell her. If you don’t, I will!” That conversation ended with the schling of Logan’s claws piercing into Wade’s leg. He’s pissed off, but Logan knows he’s right.

Variant! Logan who sits with you on the couch during one of Wade’s house parties, nursing a cup of whiskey as you enjoy your homemade cosmo. The two of you have already mingled with the rest of the party-goers, your social battery running dry. So you both decide to be in your own bubble, communicating amongst yourselves and making fun of Wade’s lame party hat.

Variant! Logan who nervously swallows when you laugh at his joke, playfully slapping him on the sternum, shaking your head and nearly dropping your red solo cup. He takes in your expression, commemorating it to his memory as your smile widens and you shift to look at him. Your hand didn’t move from its place on his chest, and he didn’t have any intention of telling you to remove it. So you leave it there for a while longer before drawing away from him. 

Variant! Logan who walks you back home after the party, using it as an excuse to “sober up” and make sure you were alright to ease his own anxieties. You talk along the way, and he ignores the flutters in his stomach from the close proximity. 

Variant! Logan who stands by your front door as you unlock it, asks again if you were going to be alright on your own to which you nod. You thank him, his heart beating at the way you looked at him, like you cared about him, like he mattered. He brushes it off with a shrug and digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Variant! Logan who doesn’t stop you when you step closer to him to place a gentle and affectionate kiss on his cheek, the touch making a shiver roll down his spine. You were right there, temptation dangling in front of his face. His eyes ask you a silent question, letting you call the shots when you plant your lips over his, soft and mellow.

Variant! Logan who suppresses the moan that threatens to slip out, feeling the tip of your tongue graze his bottom lip and silently ask for entrance. He shouldn’t, not when the alcohol was still running it’s course. Hesitantly, he pulled away from you, holding your waist with one hand and the other caressing your forearm.

Variant! Logan who is quick to reassure you after your sudden look of disappointment. “Not like this. Maybe, when you don’t taste like vodka and cranberries?” You laugh at that, nodding and rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Only if you make it up to me with dinner.” He lets you go after that with one last kiss, standing in front of your apartment door for a minute more to catch his breath before heading back outside.

Variant! Logan who walks back to the apartment with a stupid smile on his face, one that he doesn’t register he’s sporting until he stepped through the door to spot Wade cleaning up the mess left behind on the kitchen table. He mentioned something about lipgloss over his lips and the side of his cheek, only getting a grumble and a few curse words in return. Logan ignores him and goes to the bathroom “to take a piss”, spotting the remnants of your lipgloss over his aged features. He grins, making a mental note to look for places to take you out for dinner in the morning.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[archive-of-the-lost]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮?)

Content: No pronouns, reader is referred to as "you", a lot of these are more fem (ex: makeup) though

𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢: Thigh-high boots. Thigh-high socks are appealing to him too, but boots have a more assertive air to them. If you ever wore them out, your legs will be the only thing he looks at the entire time.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚: Eyeliner. He has an eye fetish, so eyeliner that defines your eyes will have him making eye contact 24/7. It's almost unnerving. He doesn't care what style, as long as it suits your eye shape.

𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢: Soft hoodie or sweater. It's so nice to hug you when you're wearing something soft, like cuddling up to a soft toy. If you don't push him away after a while, he'll try to fall asleep right on top of you.

𝐑𝐞𝐨: Blazer. He doesn't think much of blazers normally, but they look fantastic on you (simply because it's you). The way you look so suave and professional. It makes him want to take you to a work dinner, but as a date. Does that make sense?

𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢: Necklaces. Not so much the necklace itself, but really the part where he offers or you ask him to help you put the necklace on, and he gets a good view of your nape while he does it. He takes way longer than he should every time.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮: Any black chunky shoes. Doc Martens, Mary Janes. Especially if they sound heavy. He'll be taking pictures of you and your shoes as you walk down the street like you're a model or something.

𝐒𝐚𝐞: Thin jewelry. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets. As long as it isn't eye catching, he'll paradoxically be drawn to staring at it. He likes messing with the chain, rubbing it in between his fingers or twisting it around his index finger if it's long enough.

𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫: Chokers, especially the ones that look like collars. It's hot. Before the both of you head out for your date, he likes to hook his finger under your choker and pull you closer, usually for a kiss. He gets the urge to do it in public too, but controls himself because he cares about his reputation.

𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬: Glitter. Glitter eyeshadow, shimmer mist. Any makeup products like make you look like an ethereal fairy will have him staring at you in awe, as if you cast a spell on him. You can put it on him too, if you want. He'd be interested.

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨: Any lip product. He likes a cute smile, so anything that highlights the lips is attractive to him. He's partial to more unusual shades like purple, black, blue and green. But any colour that suits your skin tone best looks great to him. He also finds braces endearing.

Note: It's been so long since I last posted fanfiction on tumblr. I'm kind of nervous.

[carriesthewind]

"Reviewers told the report’s authors that AI summaries often missed emphasis, nuance and context; included incorrect information or missed relevant information; and sometimes focused on auxiliary points or introduced irrelevant information. Three of the five reviewers said they guessed that they were reviewing AI content.

The reviewers’ overall feedback was that they felt AI summaries may be counterproductive and create further work because of the need to fact-check and refer to original submissions which communicated the message better and more concisely."

Fascinating (the full report is linked in the article). I've seen this kind of summarization being touted as a potential use of LLMs that's given a lot more credibility than more generative prompts. But a major theme of the assessors was that the LLM summaries missed nuance and context that made them effectively useless as summaries. (ex: “The summary does not highlight [FIRM]’s central point…”)

The report emphasizes that better prompting can produce better results, and that new models are likely to improve the capabilities, but I must admit serious skepticism. To put it bluntly, I've seen enough law students try to summarize court rulings to say with confidence that in order to reliably summarize something, you must understand it. A clever reader who is good at pattern recognition can often put together a good-enough summary without really understanding the case, just by skimming the case and grabbing and repeating the bits that look important. And this will work...a lot of the time. Until it really, really doesn't. And those cases where the skim-and-grab method won't work aren't obvious from the outside. And I just don't see a path forward right now for the LLMs to do anything other than skim-and-grab.

Moreover, something that isn't even mentioned in the test is the absence of possibility of follow up. If a human has summarized a document for me and I don't understand something, I can go to the human and say, "hey, what's up with this?" It may be faster and easier than reading the original doc myself, or they can point me to the place in the doc that lead them to a conclusion, or I can even expand my understanding by seeing an interpretation that isn't intuitive to me. I can't do that with an LLM. And again, I can't really see a path forward no matter how advanced the programing is, because the LLM can't actually think.

[aloesarchives]

JJK Headcanon: Megumi cockblocks Toji/Megumi "Menace" Fushiguro/ Toji having beef with his 15 yr old son

Warning: Swearing, Female reader, Mentions of sexual activities but not explicit, ooc on Megumi’s part, Toji being Toji

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader(romantic), Megumi x Mom!reader(parental/platonic)

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader is referred to as mom, mama, and mother by Toji and Megumi)

Word Count: 2.2K

(A/N: This is based on my one-shot I did and I wanted to expand on it because I just felt the need to. This headcanon went off the rails and is in different directions. Let me know if I missed any warnings!)

[Edited and Proofread! on 12/9/23 8:05pm. Forgive the strange format, Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit the post so I had to do it on the original doc and paste the edited version.]

Please enjoy!

So Megumi cock blocking Toji started out unintentionally and by accident. But as he got older, he did it more to annoy his dad and get on his nerves.

I will die on this hill but Megumi is a Mama's boy. Though it goes unsaid(by him at least), everyone knows it. Toji knows it, Gojo knows it, his classmates and friends know it, and everyone at Jujutsu High knows it. Hell, his own shadows know it.

Obviously you know it but you don’t want to embarrass your son. But it does fill you with love and contentment to know your son loves you dearly.

But that’s the problem, he LOVES you. Loves you more than Toji. Well, Megumi loves Toji as a dad and father. It’s just as he gets older, especially as a teenager, he often butts heads with Toji and gets fairly annoyed by his presence. All Toji has to do is breathe in Megumi’s direction and your son groans, rolls his eyes, and leaves.

When Megumi was younger, he was attached to you. You were always carrying him inside the house, when you were cooking, and even when folding the laundry. He didn’t like being far from you. All you had to do was be within 6 feet of your son or where he can see you and he will be fine.

So when Toji holds Megumi because you need to get or do something where you can’t bring your son, Megumi is all fussy and cranky. He doesn’t cry often but he is just all over Toji. Pulling at his hair, shirt, and cheek. Toji has been mostly successful with Megumi when putting him down for a nap, feeding or bathing him but sometimes it’s a struggle.

When you do it for Megumi, he is all cooperative and easy to handle. Toji clicks his tongue when he sees it happen and looks at Megumi as your son nuzzles into your shoulder. “I see how it is Megumi. All nice and easy for Mama but not for me.”

After successfully putting Megumi to bed, Toji gets frisky as wants some alone time with you. Since Megumi was born, your son has taken up most of your time. Leaving your poor husband with a lack of attention and affection. You want to make it up to him for lost time so you let him have his way with you.

However, just before Toji could go down on you and make you see stars, you hear Megumi’s crying. So out of instinct, you grab one of Toji’s shirts and make your way to comfort your son. Half the time, the mood gets instantly lost and Toji gets sexually frustrated. He was so close to boning you and your son just has to stop him from doing so. 

Toji gets blue balls so many times during Megumi’s youth, it’s a straight-up crime to him.

There are times when Toji doesn’t care if Megumi starts to cry in his bed. He read somewhere that babies just cry for no reason so at times let them cry it out. When he reads that, he’s not letting you out of his grasp when his son is crying in his crib. You feel the urge to comfort him but when Toji makes you wait a couple minutes and start to hear Megumi’s cries grow quieter, then they stop. That gives you two the green light to each other to yourselves.

75% Toji would have success with you but there was the other 25% he didn’t.

When Megumi was a toddler, he mostly would knock on your door in the dead of night either because he had a nightmare or wanted to sleep with you two. Luckily, this happens after your “nightly session” with Toji.

But Megumi would ask Toji to help him with stuff or pop up out of nowhere when wanted to have a piece of you. Toji hugging your front and cups your body while you cook? Megumi is by the kitchen table asking what are you making for dinner. Toji cages you against the wall as you put away the laundry? Megumi pops his head out of his room and asks Toji if he saw his dog plushie that was on his bed. 

But Megumi’s clinginess to you is genetic because Toji is the exact same to you. Way before Megumi was on the drawing board, Toji was either all over you or near you. No in between, it was one or the other.

You felt bad because it feels like your son and your husband are fighting for your attention. You know Megumi’s a child, who needs more guidance and help, but you know your husband has needs too. 

But as Megumi goes to school, it was easier for you two to have some alone time. Mostly easier for Toji to be inside of you.

But as Megumi gets the hang of summoning his shadows, it’s all over for Toji. This happens when he’s older as Megumi sometimes lets his dogs out and roam around the house. Like their user, the dogs and shadows love you too. One time, they saw Toji being too close to you and thought he was harassing you. So the dogs ran and pounced on Toji. One of them caught Toji’s wrists in their mouth and started pulling him away from you. Obviously, you called Megumi over to stop his dogs or to call them back. He does so but not without giving Toji a smirk, he definitely may or may not put his dogs up to it just to fuck around with his dad.

For the timely and observant boy he is, Megumi really is just popping in at the wrong times. He didn’t mean to do that to you, he’s well aware of how much you love Toji, both body and soul. He just doesn’t like how Toji isn’t quick and sleek with his intentions with you. Sure, it was Toji’s house and he can do whatever he wants in it. But Megumi also lives here too, so Toji should be more cautious and considerate of his son. Because everyone knows that they would rather bury themselves than see their parents try to give them another sibling.

Though Megumi now dorms at Jujutsu High because of missions, he does come home on weekends and breaks. But it varies from time to time, he would mostly tell you in advance when he would come home or visit. But he sometimes forgets and just drops by unannounced.  

Thus, that’s how scenarios like this occur. 

He will come home, sometimes knocking/ringing the doorbell but mostly lets himself in, then he walks inside, takes off his shoes, and goes to the living room. His heart slightly beats faster as he awaits the inevitable. It’s like a coin toss, 50/50 chance he’ll be safe or not. He relaxes when he doesn't stumble upon another eye bleaching but when he encounters the other 50%. He cringes inside so hard, he just blames Toji. Nah, he never blames you.

Yes, he’s well aware of men and women having… carnal desires… But you were never shameless about it in public or out in the open. He doesn’t know when it’s just Toji and you. But frankly, he DOES NOT WANT to know or find out. So he believes his father is just a dog in heat almost every time there is an OUNCE of spare time with you.

He either coughs, grunts or speaks to make his presence known. 99% of the time when this happens you are the one to push yourself away from Toji and try to make the situation less awkward for your son. It always ends up embarrassing you in the end.

Toji, in his head, lowkey wants to smack his son to another dimension. Way too salty in his mind.

‘Brat, let me have a moment with your mother, it’s not that hard.’ ‘IDGAF if you're my son, I’ll smack and give hands to my own son if you keep doing this.’

Like father like son, Megumi is doing the same thing in his head.

‘That’s a skill issue’ ‘This is an issue, not an iss-me’ ‘You fell off, what happened? Cause you’re too old?’ ‘Fucking cope, Old Man’.

Because of this, Toji literally has beef with his 15-year-old son. 

Should he be pressed about someone younger than him? No! Does he care? Also No. If this man can beef and fight Gojo Satoru and LIVE to see another day, he can have beef with anyone. 

Even if it’s his own son.

You should be a good parent and spouse and try to dissipate the fact your husband and son have an unspoken feud with each other. But you can’t help but watch everything unfold when they interact sometimes because it’s just funny and you get a kick out of it. 

Just to clarify, it’s never a shouting match or an actual argument. It’s more of petty insults, backhanded compliments, or brutal honesty minus the honesty. It’s like being a spectator at an event. You were watching for entertainment and you were getting your money’s worth. When you would come by Jujutsu High, you would talk about Megumi and Toji’s “interactions”. Saying something along the lines of “They don’t see eye to eye.”

One day, Toji and you decided to pay a visit to the campus because Principal Yagi needed to ask you about something in person. Since it was only you, Toji just wandered the halls and the school’s grounds, waiting for you to be done. As the odds were in his favor as he stumbled upon Megumi and his group doing some training. Toji just pops in and starts talking to Megumi. He acknowledged Yuuji and Nobara but he didn’t spare a glance at Gojo. In fact, he straight up looked at Gojo, gave a look of disgust, and continued talking to Megumi whilst ignoring him.

It didn’t take for some banter to rise between father and son, while no loud voices or malice was felt or seen. This was probably the few times Yuuji and Nobara had seen Megumi get heated, but this was the first time they saw Megumi beefing with his dad.

After a few minutes, Megumi summoned his shadows and Toji decided to change into his fighting stances. Yuuji thinks this is a bad idea but Gojo just smiles, saying that seeing them spar was a “learning experience”. Plus it would be good for Yuuji to watch Toji because Toji was a physical fighter considering his Heavenly Restriction. Though Yuuji has some curse energy, he must box it out with his opponents so he considered and the three watched the two fight it out. 

Megumi forgot his old man was an actual threat to the Jujutsu Society because Toji was straight up dodging Megumi’s shadows, their attacks, and even Megumi's own physical attacks. Though Toji wanted to have a little fun, he had to hold back so he wouldn't destroy/kill any of Megumi’s shadows. If he did, you would definitely find out and he would be a dead man for sure.

Anyway, it was so fast-paced that only Gojo was keeping up with the action. He was smiling but he had a shiver up his spine as he remembered that Megumi’s dad was the very reason for his enlightenment and Hollow Purple ability. It was obvious that Megumi wasn’t going to win but he wasn’t one to admit defeat. Then like a blur, Toji charged at Megumi from above and when he landed he created a decently large cater with Megumi at the center. Megumi’s shadows disappear since he is low on curse energy and is completely exhausted.

Both men were heaving and sweating like crazy. Yet out of nowhere, they suddenly hear your voice, LOUD and DESTRESS. You ran over to the two, eyes widening as the carter became bigger the closer you got. You see your son lying on the floor and help him up. You tried dusting off some of the dirt on him while looking concerned. You snapped your head towards Toji, whose smirk disappeared and then returned back again. You began to reprimand him for what he had done. Fighting his own son and damaging the training grounds, like wtf man.

You weren’t really raising your voice or yelling at him. But the firmness and seriousness in your tone about the small sparring session was enough to make someone straighten their posture and use very respective language towards you. There were moments where you tugged at Toji’s ear, pulled at his shirt so he was looking straight at you, or held his forearm tightly while you expressed your disappointment and concerns to him.

Ngl, Toji was a bit bricked up when you were all serious and angry at him. He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch if it meant he got to see this side of yours more often. 

Megumi reassures you that he is not physically hurt but his pride is wounded. You told him that if his dad pulled this again, to not engage with it and back off for his own safety. Megumi, because of his agitated mood, felt a bit offended that you didn’t believe your own son could hold his own. Let alone, go toe to toe with his own father.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Why don’t you trust me in fights even though I can handle myself.”

“Megumi, sweetheart, it’s not like that at all. I know you are a strong, smart, and capable person. You are my son, after all.”

“Then why don’t you want me to fight with dad?”

“Oh Megumi, honey. You have no idea the strength and capabilities of your father. You do realize, my dear, your dad was holding back a lot when he was sparring with you.”

Megumi looks shocked at his Pops, who winks at him, before turning his attention back to you.

“Wait, what? Just how strong is he, Mom?”

You didn’t give him a full answer.

All you said was, “Ask your teacher, Megumi.”

Megumi and his two classmates look at their teacher to see what you were talking about all the while Gojo was sweating bullets. That’s a story for another day, now you are dragging your husband home and telling your son to call you if anything changes.

So Toji and Megumi have eternal beef with each other. Though it’s more of annoyance and for shits and giggles really. Toji really does love his son and Megumi loves and respects his dad a lot.

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Thank you for reading and hope you have an amazing day with your favorite drink!

[sourkannas]

request! (therapist au btw) the CU’s play roblox with us for the first time (^_^)

life is roblox, by me (trusts)

curse rehab au!!!!!!! reader is referred to as doctor/doc for simplicity

I've been gone a lil bit but im back ^♡^