#so if I want to see it I suspect I’ll have to write it myself)

[necer0s]

So I just finished a relisten of The Magnus Archives, and I’m having real trouble finding any fanfics that mesh with my personal headcanons and understanding of TMA. I love a good fix-it time travel fic, but it’s so hard for me to read a fic that professes to fix canon if it doesn’t deal with the fact that the Web is sentient and perfectly able to arrange a different apocalypse if the Entities aren’t destroyed or somehow bound to never enter reality. Does anyone have a TMA fic rec where the Entities themselves are actually dealt with? I know Esama wrote one, but I’d really love to read more.

[spicyrose]

JEALOUSY — aegon ii.

summary: reader is betrothed to jace, but has been having a secret affair with aegon. aegon gets jealous while watching jace and reader at a feast. 2k+ words.

cw: fem!reader, no use of y/n, cheating (sorry jace), possessive!aegon but also needy!aegon, aegon has issues, piv, unprotected sex, aegon on top but he needs that validation, one mention of breeding kink, references to alcohol, first time writing smut one-shot — minors dni.

“Stop it.”

You look up to find Aegon beside you. 

“Stop talking to him,” he glares.

You glance back at the table. The greens and blacks had gathered at King Viserys’ command, but there was no true merriment, all forced smiles and dinner knives gripped a little too tightly. That Aegon had been seated across from you did nothing to ease the tense environment. Aegon, who every time you dared look to him, looked ready to come to blows with your betrothed or to fuck you on that table then and there —maybe both. So you had avoided your lover’s gaze the entire night and kept your attention on Jace, something that seemed to only infuriate Aegon further. 

At least Aegon had restrained himself until you had stepped away from the feast to serve yourself wine from a side table. You hadn’t even noticed him follow after you, though honestly you should have expected it. Now that you looked at him properly for the first time, he looked absolutely sick with rage and desire, and more than a little intoxicated.

“Stop letting him touch you,” he breathes, leaning down to you.

“Touch me? —Seven, he held my hand,” you answer.

“I don’t want him touching you.”

“And am I to think you’ve been faithful? That you haven’t slept with any other girls since you first came to my bed? Why shouldn’t I—”

He grabs your wrist.

“Don’t. Don’t put that thought in my head, of you and the Strong boy. Don’t, or I’ll kill him. You may be betrothed to him, but you’re mine.”

You shiver as he said that. Aegon grins.

“Knew you’d like that.”

You blush and look away, back to the table, to see if anyone had noticed the pair of you.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Aegon whispers.

“Let go of me. Are you trying to ruin me?” you try to stay angry with him, to be sensible, to remember that all it would take is the wrong person seeing, and scandal would break out.

“I could ruin you right now.”

His hand runs up your arm. You pull away.

“Control yourself, Aegon.”

“I am,” he hisses. “This is me controlling myself. Have you thought about how this is torturing me?”

Two serving girls are looking at you. One whispers something to the other.

“Now isn’t the time to discuss this. Come to my chambers tonight, after the feast. And keep off of the wine —I won’t let you in if you’re drunk.”

Aegon looks sullen, but he knows agreement is his only hope of getting you alone that night. He makes a show of setting aside his goblet.

“As my lady commands.”

***

Inviting Aegon to visit your bedroom for a ‘discussion’ went exactly as you both had known it would: with his hands on your hips the moment the door was open to him, Aegon kicking the door shut behind him, and pushing you up against it once shut, his mouth on yours.

You allow yourself to enjoy it, for a moment, before pulling back.

“You shouldn’t have acted like that in public. Someone will suspect us.”

Your hands ran up and down his neck.

“Are we still pretending I’m here to talk?” he asks, eyes dark but clear. He’d done as you asked and refrained from drinking any further. For all the greens had done to try to curb his indulging his cups, who knew the solution was actually quite simple: deny Aegon sex and he would sober.

“You are here to talk.”

“You often invite men to ‘talk’ in your room at this hour of the night? In just your nightgown?” 

There was an edge to his voice. Jealousy, yes, but something more. Insecurity. 

And you were clad in only your thin nightgown. You knew how this would end, with you both naked in your bed, so you had decided to make things a little easier once you reached that step. But you weren’t prepared for that yet. You still clung to some morsel of rationality, though having Aegon pressed against you, hot and angry and needy, was a terrible distraction.

“What do you think will happen if someone finds out about us? That Prince Aegon has stolen and defiled Prince Jacaerys’ bride?”

“Maybe if Jace knew where to put it…”

“This isn’t a jest, Aegon.”

“He won’t know. Doubt he knows where children come from.”

“Aegon.”

“Thinks he’ll kiss you on your wedding day, and that’ll get you pregnant—.”

“You aren’t funny—”

“He won’t know it was me that got you pregnant.”

Your breath hitches. Aegon, sensing weakness, grins.

“You like that? Like the idea of me finding you on your wedding night?” He leans in and trails kisses up your neck. “Poor thing, you’ll be so bored. He’ll have thought the ceremony was the end of it. He’ll fall asleep, leaving you wanting and needing…needing for me…”

His fingers curl to grip your hips.

“Say it,” his voice is commanding, but he nuzzles into your neck with an unspoken desperation. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” you breathe. 

He pushes flush against you. You can feel how hard he is. But he doesn’t grind into you, doesn’t kiss you, just clings to you. As if he wishes to never let go, to crawl into your skin. As if he needs you and is frightened of being pushed away.

You lift up his chin to force him to look at you. There’s vulnerability in lilac eyes.

“I need you, Aegon. Need you to make me feel good like no one else can. Make me feel good like Jace can’t.” 

Aegon’s eyes go wide and his lips part slightly.

“Jace has never touched me. Not like you have. Not like this.”

“He hasn’t had you the way I have?” he asks, almost whimpering.

“Never. He’s kissed me, a little, but not like you have.”

Jace didn’t wish to do anything that might risk your reputation before you were wed. He didn’t wish to dishonour you. 

“How noble of him. How…innocent.” Aegon says. “Is that what you want? Innocent?”

“No,” you confess. 

Jace is a good man. He doesn’t deserve an unfaithful betrothed. But this marriage was not of your making, and though you view Jace with friendship, he isn’t what you want. You want wine-stained lips and lilac eyes and high laughter and grasping hands and bodies tangling together beneath the sheets. You want Aegon.

Aegon comes alive again. He pulls you forward by the hips and flush against him as he grinds his hard-on into your soft nightgown. He groans as you moan from the sensation.

“Good. Because I’m not innocent, nor are my intentions with you.”

He claims your mouth again, harder and rougher, and uses your gasp of surprise and pleasure as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

His hands are on your nightgown’s laces. Your fingers grip the hemline of his shirt, but before you can remove it, Aegon loses patience with untying your dress and instead opts to pull it over your head. 

“Gods, look at you”, he says, his eyes roaming over every inch of your naked flesh like it’s the most wondrous sight he’s ever seen. 

You shiver.

“Cold?” he asks.

You nod.

“Let’s warm you up, then.”

He leads you over to the bed and pushes you down onto the sheets, his body covering yours’ in an instant. You tug his shirt up and over his head, accidentally pulling his hair as you do.

“Ouch. Someone’s impatient.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Is that so?” One hand braces himself up by your head, the other runs up, up, up your leg. “And what’ll I find here?”

He cups between your legs. You gasp and buck your hips up against him.

“So wet. All this for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moan.

His fingers work to massage your cunt. It makes him grin to watch you squirm in pleasure and need.

“You’re mine,” his voice is deep and hoarse. “Tell me you’re mine, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You meet his eyes. Your arms wrap around his back.. You open your legs wider and hook one around his hips. You watch as his eyes blow wide with lust, but he restrains himself until you say what he is desperate to hear.

“I’m your’s.”

Aegon pushes his trousers down just far enough to free his cock. It hits against the soft flesh of your thighs and though you can’t see it, you can feel it is hot and leaking already. 

“Need it. ‘M ready for it. I —Aegon!” you moan as he pushes in. He obliges your need (and his own) by pressing on until he’s fully inside.

Normally he would hide his face in your neck as soon as he began to thrust, but this time, he keeps eye contact. 

Your eyes roll back in your head from pleasure as he hits that sweet spot inside you again and again.

“Uh uh. Need to see you,” he growls. 

You open your eyes. That seems to spur him on as he begins to thrust harder and faster. 

“Need to feel you cum around my cock,”

Your nails grip into his back. The hand that had been at your hip to anchor you to him, drops down to rub at your clit just right.

“Does that feel good?”

“Fuck!” is all you can manage, panting and sweating.

“Be good and cum for me.” 

You cum, hard, biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming so loud the entire Red Keep hears. You buck your hips up and cling to him as you ride out your high.

 When you start to wind down, it takes you a few seconds to realize Aegon is still thrusting into you with the same speed. It wasn’t unusual for him to fuck you through both of you cumming, but usually once he had finished he needed to pull out and rest, either in preparation for the next round or to fall asleep in your bed ( usually you were the one who had to wake him to remind him he needed to make his way back to his own room before dawn ). But he was still going as hard and fast as before. More than that, his face was screwed up, and he was whimpering.

He hadn’t cum yet.

He never lasted once he felt you start to squeeze around him.

Had you done something wrong? Had he not liked it?

“Please,” he begged. “Please say it.”

You knew what he needed. Your hands left his back to cup his face.

“I’m your’s, Aegon.”

He came hard. Harder than he ever had before with you. You could feel the warmth filling you up between your legs. He shuddered and collapsed on top of you, breathing heavy.

Your arms wrapped around his back again, gentle this time. He hid his face against your neck like he was ashamed.

“Shhh. Shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” you whispered. You pressed kisses to the side of his face. “You did so good. You did so good for me.”

Aegon kept his face hidden against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his body relax. He pulled out slowly and as he did, you could feel his cum spilling out of you.

“Oh,” his muffled voice had a tone of surprise to it that would almost make you laugh if he wasn’t being so sincere. “Sorry. Towel—”

Aegon tried to disentangle himself from you, but you pulled him back.

“We’ll clean up in a minute.”

He relaxed into your arms again. 

Aegon still hadn’t looked at you since cumming.

Slowly, his face lifted up to look at you.

“I haven’t,” he breathed in a soft, sleepy voice.

“What?” 

“You asked if I’d fucked any other girls. Not since you.”

Oh. You felt a fluttering in your heart.

“Half the brothels in the Street of Silk must have gone out of business, because of you.”

“Shut up, Aegon.”

[believesthings]

Carnal Coffee Mornings // Ted lasso x reader

Summary: Ted surprises you with some morning coffee and some sexiness ensues.

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving)

Just a little something to get myself back in the swing of writing.

“Well, hey there Darlin’. Come on - sit down.”

Ted is standing in the kitchen, ushering his way towards you with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

You make your way to the dining room table, taking the cup of coffee from his outstretched hands.

“Morning, Ted. What are you up to?” You ask with a laugh. Leave it to Ted to always have something up his sleeve when it comes to you.

“Just wanted to show you some lovin’ that’s all.”

You cock your head at him, “Ted, you do that everyday.”

“I know, I know but - we’ve both just been so busy lately and I feel like I haven’t really been able to spoil you like normal but…”

He trails off and his gaze lands on the clock in the corner. “It seems like we might have some extra time this morning.”

You open your mouth but he puts his hand up to shush you before you can protest.

“Now, I know we’ve both got work, you’re already dressed and I wouldn’t wanna ruin your pretty outfit, plus you’ve got coffee to drink before it gets too cold. So you sit right there and I’m gonna do the work.”

Of course. Ted is a giver. You shouldn’t have suspected anything different. You couldn’t help but squirm at the thought. Ted is making his way under the table, you hear him ask, “it okay if I move this skirt up, and take these panties off pretty girl?”

“Um - yes.”

You were trying to focus on your coffee, but good lord, he’s kissing your thighs. He couldn’t have really expected you to handle a hot beverage while he was between your legs, could he?

“Can’t wait to have a taste..” he murmurs against your pussy. The vibrations of his voice against your slit already has you gasping.

“T-Ted.” You let out rather breathlessly. Your hands instinctively move towards his hair and he groans against your pussy.

“Feel free to tug on my hair there, Darlin. Have fun with it. I know I definitely will.”

He fastens his mouth over your pussy, giving you an open mouthed kiss. You’re careful to try not to knock over your coffee cup as you steady yourself on the table. His lips and teeth are traveling over your cunt to your swollen clit, his nimble fingers teasing at your opening.

He pulls his mouth back, letting his fingers take over the job. “You seem pretty needy there, honey. You gonna take my fingers?”

Before you can get even let out a sound, however, his mouth is back to work. His tongue and fingers seeming to work in tandem. You scratch along his scalp as your hips rise against his tongue.

“Ah, patience.” He grumbles. Ted always likes take his time and appreciate you but good lord, this was a slowness you weren’t used to. There were so many slow strokes and kisses against your heat.

“You know what they say, right? Good things come to those who wait.” He paused pulls his mouth away and goes back to kissing your inner thighs and you can’t help but groan.

“I love hearing your breath hitch when I do this. Seeing you turn senseless cause of me? You spend so much time stuck up in that pretty little head of yours. I love having the chance to pull you out of it.”

God, even if you could think of something to say, you didn’t think your mouth would be capable of forming an actual response. He went back to kissing along the lips of your pussy, pausing to sink his tongue in as deep as he could, then withdrawing to suck on your clit again.

His fingers go back to work and he’s not letting up. “Can you feel my fingers baby? I love the way you respond to me. You’re so beautiful, you know that? You wanna cum, sweet girl?”

You didn’t take the time to question if he was teasing you. You nodded furiously. He kept stroking your walls and kissing your thighs and you were starting to worry you were becoming too sensitive.

“Lord. Your skin is so soft. I’ll never understand how you do that.” He murmurs almost more to himself than to you. “What if I just did this a little bit… harder?”

His fingers seem to move purposefully, pressing against all the tender spots his fingers have been skillfully avoiding this whole time. You head falls back and moan escapes you as he places the flat of his tongue against your clit, almost pressing down too firmly, his eyes flick up to see your head hanging back off the dining room chair, eyes closed.

He intertwines his arm around your leg, wrapping it behind his body. “Look down at me, baby.” His head gently nudges up, peaking his head out underneath the table. You turn your head down, eyes hooded, drinking him in.

“Put your hands around my neck and keep your eyes on me, okay? I want you to watch me devour your pretty body.”

You mindlessly did as you were told. You were in too much of a daze. “You’re mine, you know? And I’m yours. You fit so perfectly into me.”

Before you know it, you’re on the edge of climax.

“There we go. Let go for me.”

You’re gasping trying to come down from your high. You look at the cup of coffee in front of you, lukewarm and bordering on cold. It snaps you back to reality. You turn around anxiously looking at the clock.

Ted is acting like nothing happened. He pushes your skirt back down, and comes back up from under the table.

“Looks like it’s time to go work, huh sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” you were still in a daze. How was Ted so put together? As if he didn’t just make you come undone?

It’s only as you’re halfway out the driveway that you realize Ted never put your panties back on.

[moonstruckme]

would u maybe be willing to write remus with a reader who also has scars? not from anything in particular just more than the average joe (i personally have quite a few scars from years of sports and having acne and a skin condition, so really the cause can be anything u want) and they take care of eachother? they have a routine they do together and they put lotion and bio oil on for eachother <3

Thanks for requesting!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

“Remus?” He looks past himself in the mirror to find you standing in the doorway to the bathroom, hair wet from the shower you’d taken before his. You’re holding your hands the way you do when you’re feeling tentative. 

He turns around and makes his voice extra soothing to assuage it. “Yeah, dovey?” 

“What do you…what are you doing, when you rub that stuff on your face?” 

He blinks, looking down at the small container in his hand. “This? It’s oil. It’s for my scars.” 

You take a hesitant step forward. Your brow wrinkles. “Like, to make them go away?” 

He smiles wistfully. “No. I don’t think anything can make them go away, honey. This just makes them less…obvious.” 

You smile, walking up to him with a bit more confidence. “Oh, good. Can I try some?” 

Remus raises his brows. “What for?” 

“I have scars,” you say, almost defensively. “They’re not as cool as yours, but I have them.” 

A little laugh escapes him. Cool. “You mean like the ones on your knees?” 

You nod, taking the oil from him and reading the bottle. “Yeah, like those.” 

“Sure, hop up here.” He pats the counter, and you follow his instructions readily, twisting around to jump up and setting your back against the mirror. You’re wearing your pajama shorts, your bare knees brushing the material of the towel around his waist. 

“This better not be an excuse to get me alone half-naked,” he says quietly as he gets his lotion back out from inside the cabinet. You go bright red at the suggestion, and Remus huffs a laugh. “I knew it.” 

“Stop,” you plead, nudging him reprimandingly with your foot. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” 

“Only teasing,” he reaffirms what you already know. He crouches in front of you. “It’s lucky you just showered, because that’s usually when your scars need it most. Your skin is all dried out from the water.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say sardonically, but there’s a bit of real self-consciousness to your voice. Remus strokes his thumb over your knee placatingly. 

“It’s okay. That’s why we start with lotion, to moisturize it first.” He places a dollop of the lotion onto your knee, rubbing it in with his fingers. You hum in understanding, and he does the other knee too. “And then the oil, which should make the marks a bit less angry if you use it consistently.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he smooths the oil into the scars on your knees. Remus looks up to find you giving him a soft, open look, and he smiles, squeezing your calf lightly. 

“Of course, honey. Any other scars that need attending to?” 

“There’s some on my hands.” You’re looking at him the way you look at the moon, with a tender sort of reverence. He suspects that you don’t actually care so much about the appearance of scars on your hands so much as you want him to keep touching you, but that’s more than alright with him. 

“Yeah?” he prompts, and you hold them out in front of him. “Mm. I’ve never noticed these before.” 

“They’re not huge,” you say with a shrug. 

Remus sets to work, massaging lotion into the skin of your hands and wrists. He takes the oil again and begins applying it to the marks he can see. “Where’d this come from?” he asks, rubbing it into a cruel line down the bottom of your palm. 

“Oh, I cut myself cutting something in the kitchen one time,” you explain, somewhat embarrassedly. 

He hums sympathetically, moving to another scar just shy of your knuckle. “What about this one?” 

“I’d forgotten that a pan I’d set in the sink was still hot.” Your voice gets softer as his fingers soothe over your hands bit by bit. “I brushed the back of my hand against it without thinking.” 

A small sound escapes him, equal parts fondness and exasperation. “And these?” He thumbs over two nearly identical white lines, one just above the other on your wrist. 

 “Burned myself on the oven rack.” You look at them sheepishly. “Twice.” 

Remus huffs a laugh, finishing with the oil and bringing your arm to his chest. “So what I’m getting from this is, you’re never going into a kitchen again.”

“Hey,” you say with a smile, “a girl’s got to eat.” 

“I’ll cook for you,” he bargains. 

“Every meal?” 

“If it means keeping you from injuring yourself, yes.” 

“I might be amenable to that,” you say, looking at him consideringly, “if…you let me put this stuff on your scars for you sometimes.” 

Remus’ lips curve slightly as he leans forward, stamping them on your forehead. “It’s a deal, lovely girl. We can do it for each other, yeah?” 

“Sounds good.” You peck his cheek in return, hopping down from the counter. “So, what’s for dinner? I was going to make myself a grilled cheese, but if you’re cooking I’m thinking more along the lines of lobster bisque.”

[gravehags]

falling so badly (i'm coming apart)

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: making out, love confessions, reader is a virgin, idiots in love, masturbation, copia being a possessive little sex freak, gay trauma, vague mention of suicidal ideation, paintless copia, vulnerability, donuts

Words: 6,189

Summary: Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

a/n: well this was supposed to be one fic and now it's looking like it's getting split up into multiple because these hoes (me) don't know how to shut the fuck up. takes place immediately after the events of satan baby! made myself sad writing about their respective trauma so y'all better fucking like this lmao and you can expect a couple more installments :) i promise they'll eventually fuck nasty (tender)

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

It takes an absurdly long time for the two of you to finally reach your rooms between Copia routinely pausing to push you against the nearest wall with his fingers buried in your hair, lips slotted against yours and you doing the same to him.

His paints are a mess and you know half of them are now on your face but it matters little to either of you. Your right hand carries the bag full of gifts you received that evening while the left is entwined with Copia’s large, leather clad one and the sight makes you grin with pure delight. Finally, you took the step you’ve been dying to for months and your risk has more than paid off. Now here you are, standing outside your door hand in hand with your beloved giving each other a sideways glance. You set down your bag and turn to face him.

“Would you…would you like to come in?”

Your voice is a little shaky and you know exactly why as you watch the Cardinal gnaw on his lower lip and fidget. This has the potential to be a huge night for you, in more ways than one, and the anxiety in your stomach bubbles. He looks as if he is struggling as he lets out a deep sigh and your heart plummets.

“Dolcezza, I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “I would love nothing more. Truly, you have no…no idea how much I desire…” 

When he reopens his eyes his gaze is hungry and you nearly gasp at the way his eyes slowly drag over the shape of you. “How I…cazzo, bellezza you have no idea how mad you make me.”

“The feeling’s mutual, believe me,” you murmur, tilting your head and watching him curiously. You’re not sure if your ears are playing tricks on you but you swear you hear him groan.

“Eh, y-yes. Well. That being said as much as I would love to…to…stay,” he says the word carefully, deliberately, “first I would like to have the chance to eh…to woo you.”

You almost laugh but suppress it when you see how earnestly he looks at you. Your beloved Cardinal. The man who took care of you when you were drunk, the man you called upon to be by your side as you cried. The man who sat in your office multiple days a week, making stupid jokes and flirting with you. Who haunted your dreams. Who listened to you vent and excitedly explain. You would do anything for him. Anything he wanted, and you suspect he would do the same for you. So you smile.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve sufficiently wooed me for the past nine months but I’ll never say no to romance. That’s very thoughtful of you, Copia.”

You watch him blush and you know you have a gooey expression on your face.

“Bene. Bene! I just…want to give you everything you deserve. T-to take you out. Spend time…more time with you.”

Everything you deserve. You don’t know if you deserve it but you know what you want. And while it’s clear he’s not going to indulge that particular desire tonight that doesn’t mean you can’t give him a little tease, right? Slowly you lean forward to wrap your arms around him, breathing in the smoky smell of his cologne on his pellegrina. You can hear him inhale deep as his nose trails along your neck and one of his hands tentatively slides along the small of your back. You just hold him for a moment and allow him to relax into your embrace before putting your lips to his ear and murmuring your killing blow.

“I’ve waited this long, I suppose I can stay a virgin a while longer.”

His breath comes so sharp he nearly hiccups as you place a kiss to the tip of his carefully crafted sideburn and pull away. His pupils are blown, mouth hanging open and practically panting. He looks like he wants to say something but all that comes out is a slight whine. 

“Goodnight, Copia,” you murmur, picking your bag up and opening your door. You step through the threshold and turn back to face him.

“Good–” his voice comes out high and pained, “goodnight, cara mia.”

Your eyes flick over him, echoing the way he looked at you earlier, and there is an ache at the juncture of your thighs when you see the not insignificant bulge tenting his cassock. He starts when he realizes what you’ve seen, hands dropping to mask himself but the damage has been done. You shut the door with a quiet snap and you hear a rough “cazzo” being snarled through the wood. Between his kisses and that…you certainly have enough material to take care of yourself tonight. 

And you do just that.

–

He’s practically running to get to the safety of his quarters, praying to Sathanas that no one stumbles upon him in this state. His mind has to stay blank, to steer clear of the bombshell you just casually dropped on him with a kiss and a smile. If he dwells on it too long he’s going to make a mess in his trousers and he does not want to have to explain that to the abbey launderers. 

Again. 

His prayers are answered as he pants in front of his door, having steered clear of anyone who could be wandering the halls. He fumbles with his keys, hands shaking as he manages to open the door and bolt inside. It’s cold in his rooms but all of a sudden he’s too hot, the wool of his cassock restricting as he shucks off his gloves and fumbles for the buttons. He only gets halfway through with them before losing patience and tearing the garment up and over his head and throwing it to the ground. His suspenders are slid off his shoulders with such force one of them comes detached from its button on his waistband and he viciously untucks his shirt. His cock throbs as he growls and undoes the buttons, toeing off his shoes at the same time. 

“Merda,” he hisses, aware of the mess he’s making for himself but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is unzipping his pants and sliding his underwear down before collapsing to his knees. A virgin. She’s a fucking virgin. He knows he won’t last long but he spits into his palm and takes himself in hand all the same, whimpering when his thumb brushes against the swollen head. Your name spills from his lips as he wetly slides his fist up and down, thinking of the way your tongue felt gliding against his when he had you pushed up against the wall. The soft little whimpers you made into his mouth, the way your fingernails scratched at the base of his scalp. Was he the first to ignite such passions in your heart? He groans at the thought, the sound of skin on skin deafening in the dimly lit room.

“W-what a g-gift you’re giving your C-Cardinal,” he grunts, “bellezza mia–ah–my p-perfect girl. So good for me. I will make you–augh–sing.”

His knees protest the position but his hips flex upwards, rutting into his fist. When he cums it’s with a growl, imagining you blushing beneath him with your pretty mouth hanging open in a moan. Each spurt paints his chest, clinging to the abundance of fine brown hairs and dripping down his stomach. His head falls back as he pants in the dark of his sitting room, still gripping his cock. It’s usually at this point the shame begins to wash over him for imagining you so lewdly but…you were all but his now, were you not? His lips curl into a devious smile and he chuckles thinking about how sweetly you kissed him tonight - and let him kiss you. How you tease him so, the little game the two of you have played over the past months. His dolcezza. And no one else’s. He would make sure of that. When his head falls forward again to look down he sucks in a breath at the sight of his cock swelling in his grip. Hard again, and so soon? The power you hold over him is unthinkable and he aches to tell you so. And speaking of ache…his back and knees both throb but all he can think about is the smell of your perfume and the taste of mulled wine on your mouth. His beloved…oh how he longs to worship you, to spread your legs and nestle himself between them to lap at your cunt. The thought drives his fist to move once more, mouth hanging open. He should haul himself up, drag himself to his bedroom and into the shower but all he can think of is you. You come as easily to him as breathing, you always have. He’s panting as he thinks about all the sweet sounds he will eke out of you, of you giving him the honor of having you. And he would not make you regret it - content to ravish you with fingers and tongue and cock until you beg him to stop. As he continues to furiously stroke himself his mind wanders to your first confession when you had told him about your lustful actions. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me. A whine is wrenched from his throat and his vision starts to go blurry with the knowledge that you were talking about him. That his sick little fantasies and indulgences were all correct. And as he cums for a second time that night, his seed dripping over his fingers and onto the unforgiving hardwood floor, he’s filled with the most satisfying sense of victory.

—

When you wake up the next morning and stretch in bed until your joints pop, it takes a moment to remember the events of the previous night. You think of your lovely time spent with the Papas, the beautiful gifts you received and…oh. A shit-eating grin stretches your mouth and you bury your face into your pillow to let out a scream. Merry fucking Christmas to you. You finally, finally made the step and told Copia how you feel and it’s like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. And not only did you tell him, he reciprocated the feelings. He likes you. With a sigh you stare up at the dark wooden beams and rub your eyes til you see spots.

And then you remember.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you half-shout into your bedroom, hand flying to your mouth in horror. He told you he wanted to woo you, to be sweet and treat you like you deserve and you…you idiot. Why did you feel the need to divulge one of your deepest secrets to a man you literally just told you cared for? God, that mulled wine did a number on you. What he must think of you…you look to your left and unplug your phone from the charger with every intent of texting him and apologizing for your behavior but before you can your screen lights back up with a notification.

Buongiorno, amore! I hope you slept well! Last night feels like a dream…one I wish to never awaken from.

Your phone vibrates again.

That is, I would like to awaken so that I might see you again.

And again.

It does not make last night any less dreamy, though.

You snort as your gaze goes to the ceiling. Idiot. Your idiot. Clearly you hadn’t been too off-putting, then. Sitting up you scoot backwards and type.

Morning, Copia. Thanks again for being so lovely last night <3

You type out your next thought, then hesitate.

I slept with your necklace on last night to keep you close to me. Is that weird?

Ehh…now that is off-putting. You move your thumb to delete the text and end up hitting the send button instead.

“Shitting fuck!” You fling yourself back down onto the mattress and groan with your eyes scrunched shut. Great. Now not only are you a virgin, you’re a cringe little simp too. Your phone vibrates but it takes another couple of minutes before you get the courage to look at what you’ve wrought. Finally you crack one eye open and glance at your screen.

Dolcezza. My dolcezza…you are too kind to this old man, I don’t deserve you but I adore you.

The candidness of his words makes you melt, curling into the covers to hunch over your phone. I don’t deserve you, what bullshit.

Copia, I am the very least you deserve. And I adore you back. Are you busy today?

The thought of seeing him always brought butterflies to your stomach but now they feel a little more exciting.

Nope! Yesterday was the start of the holiday, remember?

Shit, that’s right. You have the next two weeks off (with pay, Sister Imperator graciously informed you, much to your shock) and this was after you already had some time off to celebrate the holidays with your family. Truly you couldn’t imagine a better gig.

Duh, sorry! If you have a chance today, I’d love to see you. No pressure though!

Were you being too needy? You did just confess your feelings for one another last night. The quickness with which your phone vibrates again makes you jolt.

Amore mio, I am already on my way to your quarters xxx

The goofy, dreamy smile that blooms on your face disappears with alarming speed. Shit! He’s on his way!

You practically fall out of bed after flinging the covers back and immediately shudder at how fucking cold your room is. Quickly, you strip and fumble through your drawers for some fresh clothes. Something casual but not too casual…wait. Hold the fucking bus. You look down at your phone again to check the time.

8:54 AM

Growling, you slam your dresser drawer. If you were meeting Copia at this time pre-events of last night you’d throw on a pair of leggings and a big cropped shirt and call it good. So that’s exactly what you’re going to do right now. He didn’t fall for you perfectly coiffed and styled, he fell for you being a hot mess. You never had to wear a mask in front of him before and you’re not about to start. Not after some of the shit he’s heard come out of your mouth up to and including last night. 

Anyway.

The shirt you pick is soft and well-loved, the gold grucifix he gifted you last night catching the light on your clavicle. Before leaving your room you give yourself a couple of spritzes of perfume and grab your phone. You barely have a minute to yawn in your living room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You count for five giddy seconds before walking over and opening it and you give the man before you a sleepy smile. He’s wearing what you have come to know as his “leisure clothes”, still sporting his paints despite the fact that it’s early and he’s off duty. 

“Buongiorno,” he says softly, hands fidgeting.

“Hey,” you murmur, your smile widening. The two of you stand on the threshold in silence for almost a minute when he lunges at you. The action makes you gasp but any sound from your mouth is muffled when he slots his own over it. You’re content to let him lick into your mouth for a moment, his gloved hands gripping at your waist when you come to a realization and shove him off you.

“Oh gross,” you back away and he looks horrified as if he’s done something terribly wrong, “It’s not you! I forgot to brush my teeth, shit. Sorry, sorry - give me a minute!”

He says something but you don’t hear it as you dash back into your room and take care of business, snorting at the way you’re once again smeared with his lip paint as you scrub. After you finish you take a moment to clean the black marks off your lips before returning to your living room. He still dutifully stands there, hands behind his back.

“Eh–mmph!”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say whatever he wants to say because in two strides you’ve launched yourself into his arms and latched your lips onto his. Gripping the sides of his red velour jacket you pull him towards your couch until his legs bump up against it and with an inelegant shove you push him down onto the cushions. The way he looks up at you, hair tousled and mismatched eyes filled with adoration, makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his freckled cheekbones.

“Copia…Copia I think I lo–”

A sharp - infuriatingly sharp - knock rings out in the room. You growl, your hands dropping from Copia’s face and your heart sinks at the way his shoulders sag. Another knock rings out and you exhale through your nose.

“Sorry,” you murmur to Copia before making your way to the door and opening it. It’s all you can do to not spit out a terse “what?” at the person standing there. The word is halfway out your mouth when Terzo gives you a goofy grin.

“Buongiorno, bella! You slipped away from us last night and oh, how we missed you. I…”

Terzo trails off and you realize that in that short amount of time Copia has sidled up next to you, a frosty expression on his face as he wraps an arm around your waist. You give him a curious look before looking back to Terzo, whose idiotic grin has somehow gotten even wider.

“Well, well, well now this is a surprise, eh? Congratulazioni to you both…”

Copia’s arm tenses around you as Terzo’s attention returns to you.

“So…how can I help you, Terzo?”

“Ah…right. The book you told me about last night…?”

You remember recommending something to him and hum aloud before breaking free of Copia’s grip and walking over to your bookcase. The tension between the Papa and his Cardinal is palpable and you grab the title and hustle back over to the door.

“Here you go. Uh…thanks for welcoming me to your celebration last night. It was lovely.”

He makes an amused noise.

“And productive too, I see. Well we’ll speak again soon, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Be safe and ah, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Ciao bella. Ciao Cardinal.”

You give him a tight smile before shutting the door and turning to your companion.

“Bit possessive for less than twenty-four hours in, no?” you say with a sly smile. Copia turns an impressive shade of red and takes a step back from you.

“I-I…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”

You had only meant to tease him but it’s clear you’ve struck a nerve.

“Don’t be,” you say gently, moving towards him to place your hands on his chest, “You know how I like to fuck with you. And honestly…it was hot.”

The journey his face goes on makes you laugh out loud before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek.

“That being said, what was that about?”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a sigh.

“Eh…it’s a long story.”

“Hmm, well last I checked we’ve got the next two weeks off so by all means,” you gesture to the couch, “enlighten me.”

The two of you nestle into the plump cushions, Copia looking apprehensive. You scoot closer to him and sling your leg into his lap, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours. He looks down at your entwined fingers and he smiles softly before letting out a sigh.

“Terzo and I have always had a…well, I don’t think it’s necessarily accurate to call it a rivalry. He’s always found charming people easy whereas I…have always struggled. It started when I was in my late teens at the abbey in Roma - Terzo was a little older and had already taken his vows. There was this boy. Paolo. He was new at the abbey and I was smitten as soon as I saw him. Blonde hair in ringlets that would catch the light…ah dolcezza. And what a voice he had, always standing out in the choir. I was desperate to spend time around him, would accept any scrap of attention he gave me. This went on for months and months, me trailing behind him like a puppy. One day I worked up the courage to make a move and told myself I would approach him at a party that evening. I put on my nicest outfit, oh you should have seen me, cara. My mustache barely there. I thought I looked so dapper. I walked into the party and spotted his blonde curls over by the couch as he was draped on someone else. My heart…stopped. And when I saw who it was he was kissing…well. I’m sure you can guess, eh?”

“Jesus, Copia,” you breathe, squeezing his hand. “That is…incredibly fucked up.”

He nods. “But the worst part was Terzo knew how I felt about him. He knew and he still did it anyway. I cried myself to sleep every night for a week after that. Terzo had the nerve to approach me and tell me that I was ‘too good for him anyway’. Figlio di puttana…I swung on him. Right there in the cloister for everyone to see. The little bastard rat hitting an Emeritus brother. Secondo eventually pulled me off him but I did my damage. In more ways than one - Paolo had seen the whole thing. Wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore and eventually asked for a transfer to Puglia. I never saw him again.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“Needless to say it wasn’t the first time that would happen. And Terzo would always say ‘you were too good for them, topolino, they don’t deserve you’. Well it would have been fucking nice to learn for myself, huh? When I left the Roma abbey at twenty-one and was sent abroad I was finally able to come into my own. So eh. Now you understand why I acted…the way I acted. Mi dispiace.”

“Don’t apologize,” you say softly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I…I get it. We all have our trauma about relationships. I’ll tell you about mine in a minute but I do have to tell you this now…Terzo knew how I felt about you. Saw it almost immediately. Always encouraged me to approach you or spend time with you even when I felt self conscious about it. I can’t speak to his motivations when you were younger but I think he wanted us to get here. I mean, is it selfish and fucked up of me to want to thank him for getting you here?”

Copia nuzzles into your palm before turning his head and placing a kiss there.

“No, tesoro. I don’t think so. And…” he pauses, thoughtful, “perhaps Terzo knew none of those people were meant for me. Ah, that’s silly.” He shakes off the thought and leans over to kiss you on the forehead before looking at you with a cocked head.

“I..I suppose you want to hear my tale then?”

Your hand falls from his face and he nods.

“Only if you wish to share it.”

A deep gut-wreching sigh comes out of you and your hands fall to your lap.

“So, um. Middle school right? I was twelve. Odd…odd kid. Didn’t really have any friends, just a lot of people I hung around. Anyway, this new girl starts at my school in my grade. Hayley. She was the most beautiful thing I’d seen - long blonde hair, tall, big blue eyes. And here’s the thing - she was nice to me. Liked me even! I couldn’t believe my luck and I was infatuated. I didn’t even know I liked girls until that point but she was special. So we became friends - best friends, even - and would constantly spend time at each other’s houses. Her parents had a pool so the summer before 8th grade I was always over at her place. One day we’re alone in the water and…Christ, I don’t know what I was thinking…I lean in and peck her on the lips. She freaks out. Starts calling me the nastiest names. Some words I didn’t even know until I heard them coming from her. We get out of the pool and she tells me I have to go home but wouldn’t let me use their phone to call my mom to come pick me up. So I walked home. In my sopping wet bathing suit and flip flops and no towel I walked almost two miles to my house. Jesus, I could’ve been…ugh. Anyway I finally get home to my parents who were flipping out thinking something had happened to me and I just collapsed in the driveway, crying. Sat there on the hot pavement and sobbed and sobbed and told them everything. So you know how it goes, my mom is fucking furious and calls her mom to scream at her for what she did to me, Hayley’s mom screams back calling me some choice fucking slurs. Distinctly remember hearing ‘fat little dyke’ shouted from the receiver. Meanwhile I’m just in my room petrified because I know she’s going to tell everyone when school starts again. Devastated because my only friend whom I adored now was disgusted with me and wanted nothing to do with me. It’s…” for the first time, your voice breaks, “it’s not fucking right for a little girl to go through that, you know? My parents saw the writing on the wall and immediately sent me to therapy but nothing could have prepared me for the first day of school. Kids ignoring me I could handle but their cruelty? Their mockery? I hid in the bathroom every day just fucking suffering. Whenever I saw Hayley it was like a knife in my gut. Finally it…got to a bad point. Like, a really bad point. I almost…anyway. I finally told my parents what was going on and they transferred me to a new school. But, you know, the damage was done.”

You reach up to wipe your tears with a derisive little laugh. Copia makes soft fretting noises at you and raises your hand to his lips to pepper it with kisses.

“Amore…I have no words. No words to describe how…crudele. Children can be so vicious. And for her parents to say such awful things about anyone let alone a child…” he lets out a low growl, “I am so sorry. My bellissima dolcezza…”

“Wow this is not how I pictured this morning going,” you say with a harsh bark of laughter, sniffling, “thought we’d have a little makeout session on the couch then go get some breakfast but you know, here we are. Trauma time.”

He chuckles and the sound warms your heart.

“Thank you for listening,” you whisper before leaning forward to nestle yourself in his lap. “Thank you for always listening, my love.”

Your ear is pressed to his chest and you hear the rumble of one of his little noises.

“And you, amore. We make quite a pair, no?”

You snort inelegantly.

“What, two traumatized, autistic, bisexual bitches?”

Copia lets out a strangled noise and his chest shakes as he dissolves into laughter with his eyes closed. You lean up and peck a kiss onto his jaw.

“So…breakfast?”

“Excellent idea,” Copia says, groaning as you shift off of him and into a standing position. You take his hands and haul him off the couch, still holding on even after he’s up.

“Promise me you’ll tell me about these someday?” you say, gesturing to his gloves. He shifts to his other foot and gnaws on his lower lip.

“Eh…yes. Another long story for another time.”

You sense his discomfort and you have no desire to press the issue. Instead you press your hand to the small of his back and steer him towards the door.

“Trying to get rid of me, tesoro?”

“Hardly,” you say, opening the door and urging him out, “I wanna get down to the dining hall while there’s still donuts.”

—

The rest of the morning is deliciously lazy, with the two of you lingering over your meal long past anyone else. You’ve gotten more than one curious look from a passing sibling, whose eyes flick from your clasped hands to the way you gaze at him, resting your face on your propped up hand. You continue to pick at your scrambled eggs long after they’ve gone cold, content to listen to him ramble (the current topic is medieval Satanic mystics.) He’s filled with such a wealth of knowledge it honestly leaves you in awe, as well as makes you a little giddy to know you have access to him and his beautiful, silly brain whenever you like. Yours. He’s yours. Your eyes trace the hollows of his eyes, masked by black paint, down the length of his long nose, across the spattering of freckles on his cheeks and down to his lips. His plump, soft lips and the way they felt molded to yours. The way he had you pressed against the stone wall of that empty corridor, groaning into your mouth and fisting your hair, his thigh slotted between your legs to press right up against your–

“Cara? Did you hear what I said?”

“Mmm…h-huh what? Sorry?”

The last word comes out of your mouth a little loud and very panicked and Copia cocks his head at you, looking alarmed. You clear your throat and smile sheepishly at him, hoping to God and Satan he didn’t notice you looking at him like that.

“I asked what you would like to do for the rest of the day?”

“I–oh! Uh…what time is it?”

He looks down at his watch.

“Almost 11.”

You rub your eyes. While you might have slept well last night, all of a sudden you’re bone tired. Rehashing horrible life events will do that, you suppose.

“How do you feel about going back to bed?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to look panicked.

“What bed? Your bed?”

“Yeah, we can nap for a few hours then…I don’t know. Watch TV. Take a walk. Whatever.”

“A nap, right,” he laughs, eyes darting, “ah…I don’t know if that’s a good idea, dolcezza.”

A sinister little grin unfurls on your lips.

“Oh yeah? Don’t trust me? Think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

His face flushes so fast you’re honestly impressed.

“N-not quite eh…cazzo. Diavoletta mia, you are making this very difficult.”

“Oh that’s a new one,” you murmur, running a fingernail over his knuckles. “Diavoletta mia, I like that.”

He gives you a pained look, one that tells you how desperately he’s holding back right now and it makes you ache. All he needs to do is say the word and you’d let him have you. He’s held your mind and soul in the palm of his hand for months now, to give him your body would be your honor. And pleasure. But instead you smile gently at him, knowing how badly he wants to treat you right. You love him for it but goddamn your vibrator is going to be exhausted in the meantime.

“You know I’m just giving you a hard time, right?” You wince at your choice of word and judging from the way his eye twitches, so does he so you redirect. “C’mon, let’s grab a couple more donuts for later then go get some rest, huh?”

The trip back to your quarters is uneventful, both hands occupied with clutching your prized donuts wrapped in napkins, which you deposit on the counter of your kitchenette. Copia hasn’t said a peep since you left the dining hall and it’s got you anxious, worried that your suggestive behavior earlier was off-putting. 

“Hey,” you murmur, raising your hand to lightly grasp at his bicep and run your thumb over the muscle lovingly, “what’s on your mind?”

“Eh, n-nothing, nothing. I’m fine, dolcezza.”

He’s not, and you know he’s not, but you don’t interrogate him further. Instead you take him by the hand and drag him to the doorway of your bedroom.

“I think some well-deserved rest will do us both good, my love.” His mustache twitches in a smile at the endearment which makes you feel relieved.

“Do you want to…um…” you gesture at his eye paint and he looks like a startled deer once again.

“I–yes. Yes, of course. My paints.”

Disengaging from him you walk to your linen closet and procure a washcloth which he takes and shuffles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You sigh and rub your eyes before throwing your mussed covers back and climbing into bed. Your phone gets plugged in before you settle on your side with your back facing the bathroom. Minutes go by - you’re not sure how many - and you open your mouth to holler your concern at him but ultimately stop yourself. The door opens quietly almost a minute later but you don’t turn to look at him, instead waiting for him to round the other side of the bed. When he does, you muffle a gasp at his wonderfully bare face. He nudges his shoes off and removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in a short-sleeved black t-shirt and his gloves. You’re overwhelmed - he might as well be stark naked before you for all the pale, freckled flesh you see - holding your breath as he silently peels the covers back and climbs into bed next to you. He settles on his back, staring at the beams on the ceiling and clenching his jaw. You scoot your body nearer to him, and place your fingers on his chin to tilt his face in your direction. He obligingly shifts onto his side, eyes darting everywhere but your gaze.

“Copia,” you whisper, taking in his deep-set eyes, the dark circles normally masked by black paint, and the long brown eyelashes, “you’re beautiful.”

He sucks in a breath and blinks at you, lips parted and pink from where he scrubbed the lipstick off.

“Amore…you…” he sighs heavily, “why do you care for this old man?”

You want to make a joke about hierophilia but can tell from his face this is not the time. So you settle for raw honesty.

“Copia…how could I not? After all the ways you’ve shown you care for me, how could I feel any other way about you? I—“

You can feel a lump forming in your throat so you distract yourself by raising your hand and tracing his crows feet and lines in his forehead.

“Copia, I don’t know of a better way to say this because I’ve never said it before but…I love you. I love everything about you - your mind, your wrinkles, your mustache. The grey in your hair and the way your ass looks in your cassocks,” he chokes out a laugh and leans into your touch, “Your kindness. Your infinite patience with me. The way you’re looking at me right now. I know we just…I don’t know became an item last night but…Copia you have to know I’ve loved you all along.”

Your tears are flowing freely at this point, sliding down your cheeks to soak your pillow and he brings a hand to the back of your head to draw you further towards him. Gently he kisses the salty trails on your cheeks, lips reverently brushing over your features. He addresses you by your name - not an endearment - and presses his forehead to yours.

“Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo,” he murmurs hoarsely, “you are my everything. Tu sei la mia anima. My world. Thank you.”

You’re not sure how long he cradles your face - long after your tears have dried - and when he finally pulls away you feel both incredibly full and incredibly empty. He rolls onto his back and gently pulls you against him, your chin tucked into his shoulder and hand on his chest.

“Today was a lot,” you murmur, tracing designs into his pectoral.

“Bellezza mia,” he says and you can hear his smile, “the day is not over yet. It’s not even noon.”

You groan and smack him playfully, feeling him shake with laughter beneath you.

“Stop laughing at me and go to sleep, Cardinal Copia.”

He sighs, leather-clad fingers running through your hair.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, amore. Your company is far too enjoyable to be unconscious in it.”

It takes all of five more minutes before he starts snoring and you grin, your face pressed against him.

Oh, to be wooed by a Satanic cardinal.

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim x Catharsis - Kane & Luan

K&J chronological masterlist / K&J writing order masterlist

Catharsis masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, escape, begging, starvation, caretaking, dubious caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker, death wish, suicide attempt, recapture, torture, gore, burns, rescue, brief self-harm for vampire feeding purposes, side robot whumpee

Whumpmas in July Day 15: A Soft Reprieve

the first time i've ever done a crossover between two different series of mine! this one's been living in my brain rent-free. massive props to @sowhumpshaped for inspiration!

-

Luan’s heart practically stopped when he looked through the doorbell camera to find a vampire.

The camera  wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. The door wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. He would be taken, again, this time manhandled from his own apartment. The fact that he couldn’t sleep all night was the only reason he had this last moment of freedom.

“Stay back,” he said through the speaker, trying not to let his voice shake like his hands as he clumsily looked up the number for the local hunters. There was no way they’d get here in time, not even with their base just down the road. Not with a vampire’s speed.

“Please,” the vampire whimpered, kneeling on his doormat. “Please help me, I beg of you. I’m not a threat, I promise, please don’t call the hunters, I’ll do anything!”

Now that Luan really looked, he could see beyond the bright-red of his eyes and the intimidating fangs: the figure at his door was… not well. Clearly emaciated, a feeling Luan knew all too well. He could see what looked like burns, and what were definitely cuts. Tears tracked from terrified, desperate eyes.

“What do you want?” Luan snapped, thumb hovering over the dial button.

“Please, please, sir, I can’t find anything to end myself, the sun is coming, they’re going to find me, please, mercy, I can’t go back, please help me!” the vampire begged, weeping into his hands. “I can’t use persuasion, I promise, I wouldn’t even if I could!”

It was objectively stupid. It was going to get him killed or worse. If Luan opened this door, that would be the end of it. The vampire would take one look at him, use persuasion, and his freedom would be gone again, just like that.

There was no faking the way his stomach turned inward like that, worse than Luan had ever been. If Luan had ever starved that badly, he suspected he would have died.

Would there be any point to a vampire going to these lengths just to trick him, when he could have just used persuasion from the first moment?

“One minute. Stay there.” He dashed to find something, ending up with a ruler he hasn’t dug out in years. Sawing at it with a kitchen knife made something resembling a stake, though he knew in his heart that it likely wasn’t strong enough to get through flesh. He just had to hope it would be intimidating enough.

Luan hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Let a starving vampire into his home?

He looked through the camera again, at the pitiful man collapsed on his porch.

He opened the door, makeshift stake in hand. “Get inside.”

The vampire scrambled in, crouching like a cornered animal on his floor, panting hard. “Th-thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Please don’t call them, please, I just–”

“You can stay the daytime and that’s it.” It wouldn’t be the first time Luan had stayed awake a full 24 hours. He could do it again. “At sunset, you leave, and you don’t come back. You never take a human. Agreed?” He pointed the stake at the vampire with both hands. “Try anything and it’s the stake.”

What Luan wasn’t expecting was for the vampire to look up at him with utter adoration. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be good, I promise, thank you so much! You can kill me if you’d like, I don’t mind, I won’t resist. Whatever you want.”

Luan slowly lowered the stake. “That’s… probably not necessary.” A look around the room. The sun would start rising in a few minutes, he had to act fast if he was really offering this vampire refuge. “Go wait in the bathroom,” he pointed, “There’s no windows in there.”

“Yes, sir!” The vampire started to run, but tumbled over himself, collapsing to the floor. Before Luan could react, he picked himself up to his hands and knees, crawling quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Jesus,” Luan muttered. The blinds were already closed, always closed, but he knew some light could trickle in through the gaps.

What to do next? He knew what he wanted next when he was rescued. To feel safe, to feel free, to feel in control, to know Cyrus couldn’t hurt him anymore. Food, water, blankets, a fucking warm shower. Home.

What had even happened to the vampire to make him like this?

In the end, he gathered up some sweats and sneakers he wouldn’t miss–he wasn’t going to make the vampire run home half-naked and barefoot when sunset came–and a blanket, then knocked on the door, stake stowed in his pocket. “Hey.”

“Yes?” the vampire called back.

Luan opened the door, finding the vampire huddled in the bathtub. “Brought you some stuff. You can use the bath and whatever too if you want, you know.”

The vampire’s eyes widened as Luan set the bundle down on the edge of the sink. “Thank you, sir! That’s so kind of you! Thank you so much!”

“Mm-hm.” It felt good to be the one in control. Safe, somehow, even with a vampire.

He wanted to ask what happened to him, but he hated when people asked for details. Those fucking true crime junkies. If the vampire wanted to talk, he would talk.

“I’m Luan,” he offered. “You?”

“M-my name is Kane. No one’s asked me that in a very long time.” The vampire stared at him like some kind of divine being.

“Alright, Kane. Glad this isn’t going to shit immediately. I’ll be… out there. Knock if you need anything, I guess.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, Luan let him be. The vampire did not return, staying locked in there well after his shower ended. As the hours ticked by, he couldn’t keep his mind off the vampire in the bathroom. How could he?

Food. He was probably hungry. Starving, if his appearance was anything to go by. Luan knew that feeling, the never-satisfied clawing in his gut.

He pinched at his skin. He had blood to go around, didn’t he? Just once.

Luan knocked at the door. “Kane? You doing okay in there?”

“Yes, sir,” came the vampire’s muffled voice, “Do you need something?”

“You need something,” Luan corrected. “I’m gonna feed you some blood. Open up.”

The door opened fast, Kane’s wide, red eyes greeting him. “You would give me blood?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the blanket still wrapped around him.

“Yeah. Here.” Luan held out his arm. That’s where they did blood draws at the doctor’s, right? “I know you’re hungry. Go ahead.”

Kane burst into a huge, fanged grin. “Thank you, sir!” He took Luan’s arm gingerly, with a gentleness he wouldn’t have expected from a monster of the night. Deciding on the wrist, he bit in slowly, carefully at first.

As soon as he broke the skin, all that gentleness disappeared.

The vampire bit in hard, making Luan wince at the pain of it. But he’d expected pain. It was a goddamn vampire bite, of course it was gonna hurt. He grit his teeth and bore it. He’d had worse.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he announced as he started to feel woozy. “I get you’re hungry, I wanna help, but I’m not a buffet.”

Kane paid him no mind, continuing to gulp down mouthfuls of blood, eyes wild.

Luan’s heart began to race, either from the depleting blood or the sudden terror or both. Suddenly, he wasn’t in control anymore, and that meant the vampire could do anything to him. It wasn’t like with the robot, who had to follow his orders. This was a vampire. What was he in comparison to that? He was powerless. He was–

No. Not again. He would not be that helpless thing again.

Luan hit the vampire as hard as he could, bringing his fist down on the back of his head. “I said stop!”

Kane reeled back, his bloody fangs tearing from skin, the blow jerking him back to reality. Landing clumsily on the floor, he looked up in horror as he realized what he had just done.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m s-so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so hungry I couldn’t control myself, I’m sorry!”

His eyes grew watery, his breaths quick and panicked. Kane backed away on the floor, cowering against the tub. “Please just k-kill me, please kill me, I’ll be good, I won’t resist, please, please, I’m sorry, I can’t, please kill me!”

Luan clutched his bleeding arm, staring at the pathetic creature before him. Was that what he’d looked like?

“You’re fine. Just don’t do it again or it’s the stake,” he said firmly. He was in control again. He got to make the rules.

“Please don’t call them,” Kane begged. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

“You’re fine,” Luan repeated. He picked the blanket up off the floor, having fallen in the chaos, and draped it back over the vampire. He instantly clung to it, his shaky hands curling tight in the fabric.

“Th-thank you, sir.” Kane gasped. “Thank you, thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Luan grabbed a box of bandages out of the cabinet and left, closing the door behind him. He was sure the both of them would feel better that way.

-

Luan woke up to insistent knocking at his door.

He wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. There was a fucking vampire in his apartment. As soon as his head was clear enough to realize, he bolted upright, looking to the still-closed bathroom door, then to the window.

The evening sun still filtered through the blinds: it was still daylight, at least for a few hours more.

“Who is it?” he asked, unlocking his phone. An emergency alert from hours ago plastered the screen before he could check his doorbell camera: VAMPIRE IN AREA.

“I’m with the local vampire hunters. We just wanted to ask some questions,” the man at the door said.

Not a sound came from the bathroom.

It would be more suspicious if he didn’t answer the door, right? Luan opened it. “What questions?”

“We were holding a vampire in the base a few streets down when it escaped last night. This one can’t hypnotize you, and we had it pretty weakened, but it’s still dangerous–caught it before it could take anyone, thankfully. We know it couldn’t have gotten far, already combed outside. It has to have snuck into someone’s home, so we’ve been making the rounds before it can escape come nightfall. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

“...Take anyone?” Luan asked, the floor falling out from under him.

“Yep,” the hunter nodded, “When we caught it, it already had someone. Almost got away with her, too. If that thing managed to get her over the border, that’d be it. Last thing we want is for that to happen again. Luckily, we’ve got the sun on our side.”

How could he have been so stupid? Of course a vampire wouldn’t be in human territory for any good reason. Kane had already gotten a taste for his blood. He was just a few hours away from being lured into captivity again, and this time, there’d be no one to save him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Luan grit his teeth, chest tight. Cyrus would never let him hear the end of it if he knew. “He–he tricked me,” he mumbled. “He��s in the bathroom.”

“Fuck. Least we caught it before sundown. Read up some on vampire safety,” the hunter instructed him, strolling inside.

The bathroom was no longer silent.

A sob accompanied the frantic scratching of nails against wood for only a moment before the hunter yanked the door open, the shitty lock giving way on only the third try.

“No! No, please, I was out!” Kane screamed, clawing at the sink cabinet ever-harder. “Please, please, mercy! I can’t! I was out!”

“Behave yourself,” the hunter spat, and Kane and Luan both flinched. He grabbed the vampire by the hair. “Come quietly and you get a tarp, not that you deserve that much after the stunt you fucking pulled today. Make a fuss and it’s the sun.”

Kane wailed, a cry of anguish so long and deep Luan thought it might never end. When it did, a shaking Kane wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ll be good, sir,” he whispered, eyes distant.

He offered no resistance as the hunter dragged him away, only tears.

Alone once more, Luan knew he’d made the only choice he could to protect himself, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away.

-

In the coming weeks, Luan couldn’t get the vampire out of his mind.

Even taking it out on the robot didn’t help, not that it ever really did. He found himself turning it on less and less, leaving it in the closet. Seeing Cyrus’s face just made him feel worse.

The hunters had to have killed Kane, right? That would be fine. Humanity would be safe from him if they did that, and Kane had been begging for it, anyway. What reason would they have to keep him alive?

Luan knew the answer to that better than most.

One call to the hunters confirmed it: the vampire was alive, though they promised ‘improved security’.

“Can I see him?” he blurted out.

It took some convincing, but Luan was able to secure himself an appointment.

-

“Keep away from the bars,” the hunter leading him downstairs instructed. Down, down, down. Concrete walls, concrete floor. Luan fought the urge to run. “You can talk with it for five minutes. Get some closure on whatever it was doing in your place. I’ll escort you back up later.”

“Mm-hm,” Luan agreed.

At the bottom of the stairs was a cell, and in the cell was a metal trunk. Luan dug his nails into his palm.

“It might look a little gnarly, but remember, these things aren’t human. They heal like that.” The hunter snapped his fingers. “Wait here.”

The hunter unlocked the cell, then the trunk. “Out.”

The lid flung open, a skinny, burnt hand retracting as soon as it appeared. Kane climbed out of the trunk, landing in a mess on the floor.

He was much worse-off than Luan remembered him. In only six weeks, the clothes he’d given him had become so torn and bloodstained as to be practically unrecognizable. Nearly all the skin he could see was burnt, his face a mess of severe welts. He looked to Luan with utter terror in his eyes, far more than the robot could ever hope to mimic.

“H-hello, sir,” Kane stammered.

Luan had to run. He knew he was safe, he wasn’t a vampire, but the danger emanating from every crack of this place was far greater than any he’d felt with a vampire cowering in his bathtub.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

“I’m s-sorry,” Kane continued, clutching at his shirt. “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Luan asked. “Why are–”

“Please don’t take the clothes away! I’ll do anything!” Kane bowed his head, trembling. “Anything, anything, p-please, I need them, I’m so sorry, please! They’re the only thing protecting me from the silver!”

He picked his head up to look back at the trunk and then Luan with a sob. “Please, I know I don’t d-deserve it, I’m sorry, but please, please, I’m trying. I won’t run again, I’m sorry!”

“They’re yours,” Luan assured him quickly. “I’m not… taking them. That’s not why I’m here.”

Kane let out a massive, shaky exhale, the grip on his shirt still tight. “Thank you for your m-mercy, sir. Thank you for letting me keep them. Thank you for giving me one good day. I treasure it, sir. It–it was the best day I ever had. What can I do for you?” He looked up, eyes shining and watery.

Luan turned and ran.

-

He brought the robot out that night. No one else had the guts to tell him what a piece of shit he was. No one else who wasn’t in prison.

Luan didn’t tell Russ what happened. He didn’t need to. The robot did its job, and by the time he was done, his knuckles hurt. The robot winced as Luan reached down to switch it off, then fell limp.

He called the cops. They didn’t care. It wasn’t a crime to hurt a vampire.

Luan thought about moving, but he didn’t. Instead, he did the opposite, took long walks out to the hunters’ base with his hand on the unused pepper spray in his pocket. It was just a building, as far as he could see, but he knew Kane was in there. Someone had to know.

Until one day, Kane was outside.

He was strapped to a propped-up metal board, baking in the sun, the clothes Luan had given him gone. It was the least human he’d ever looked: his skin boiled like sugar syrup on a stovetop in some places, crisped like burnt marshmallow in others.

There was no one else out there.

He ran home, came back even quicker with his car, and hopped the fence. Barbed wire tore at his skin, but didn’t slow him down. Kane writhed, pulling at his bound wrists.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Luan whispered, taking bolt cutters to his shackles. Kane fell to the ground, letting out a muffled shriek as his yet-untouched back set ablaze.

He didn’t have time to be careful. He hauled Kane up–he hardly weighed anything–and threw him over the fence, following quickly.

Tossing the vampire into his trunk, he added, “Don’t say you’re sorry if you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. You’re going home.”

Kane’s mangled face was unreadable, but Luan could have swore he saw him relax just a little amid the pain.

-

Luan drove. He couldn’t go home yet, that much he knew. They’d find him in a heartbeat. He drove as far away from that place as he could get, the cargo in his trunk surprisingly quiet.

When he’d gotten a few hours away, he found a secluded corner of a parking garage and popped the trunk.

“Easy, it’s me,” Luan shushed when Kane started to cower. “We’re far away. Here.”

Kane’s mouth was sealed shut, his lips fused together by the heat of the sun. It took some prying, but he managed to get them unfused. Kane didn’t seem to mind, not even when his skin tore and bled.

There were no fangs in his mouth.

Whatever. That wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed his pocketknife from the glove compartment and slashed his palm open. Kane writhed again, a desperate whine dragged from his throat, but stopped when Luan made a fist over his waiting mouth and squeezed.

“Drink up,” he encouraged. He kept going for a while, eventually bringing his hand to Kane’s mouth to let him lick the excess blood from it. His hand left scabbed over, as if it had been healing for hours rather than minutes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kane rasped, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I’ll b-be good this time. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Oh, he’d screwed this guy up bad. Another achievement in his worthless fucking life.

“Who should I contact about getting you home?” he asked. Time to get straight to the point. “Any vampire who could come here when it’s night and get you?”

Kane was silent for a moment. “Bellamy Verta,” he said eventually. “S-safe. Safe for humans.”

The guy wasn’t hard to find, and from what his profile said, he sure seemed to live up to safe for humans. His profile linked to a website that looked like PETA for vampires.

“I’m sending a DM. He’s probably asleep right now, but he’ll probably see it when he wakes up,” Luan reported.

Kane wept, blubbering gratitudes.

-

Luan cleared the area an hour before Verta was set to arrive. No matter how innocent his page looked, he wasn’t taking any chances. He left the trunk closed so no one would find Kane besides the one who was supposed to, not that he expected vampire hunters to be prowling an unpopulated parking garage in the middle of the night. Not exactly prime vampire ground. He was sure Verta would be able to figure out opening it.

He didn’t go back to the car until he got an emoji-filled DM back from Verta with a picture of what looked like Kane’s attempt at a smile.

His trunk had a hand-shaped dent in it, not that he really gave a shit. By the time he got home, it was almost sunrise. He really had to do something about his sleeping before Monday.

Luan stared blearily at the closet.

He opened it, turned on the robot. Russ flinched back at his touch, looking up at him with a harsh glare. “What?” he spat.

Luan unplugged the charger and shoved it into Russ’s hands before backing away. “You can go.”

Russ opened his mouth, then closed it, the glare melting from his face. He turned and ran through the door without a word, off into the sunrise.

It felt better than any time Luan had hit him.

taglist in reblogs

event: @whumpmasinjuly

[sitp-recs]

ok so I wasn’t gonna do this bc I didn’t have the spoons to plan in advance, but it was breaking my heart not to join the HP Rec Fest after seeing so many amazing rec posts. I also wanted to honour Scarlet | @givereadersahug’s memory, and thanks to @tackytigerfic’s new fic (!!!) I was hit by sudden inspo last night so I’ve decided to quietly join and pretend that was the plan all along 🥲 I’ll combine the first 5 prompts in one post to make it easier. go check @hprecfest so you can feast on those brilliant multishipper recs!

day 1: first fic I remember reading

oh it was definitely something in Portuguese, but I’ll go with Rhysenn’s Irresistible Poison. I’ve read it so many times that some scenes are still vivid and clear in my mind 20 years later. the tension, the yearning, the heat! funny to realize I was so into love potion, sex pollen and other dub-con tropes back in the day, and now I’m just… not :)))

day 2: a fic rated G

I’ve picked orphaned Home County because that fic is criminally underrated and I suspect it has something to do with the G rating, which is such a shame. this fic is a delightful, effortlessly funny slice-of-life with architect Harry being charmed by ministry worker Draco. a fresh premise perfectly executed, overall just a feel-good story that makes you sad for leaving that universe when it’s over.

day 3: a fic not on AO3

most of my old reads were either deleted for good or incorporated into ao3 so it was hard to find a good fit, as I did not want to repeat my recs from last year. I decided to go with furiosity, who wrote many Drarry classics that can be found scattered outside of ao3. I remember really enjoying Beyond Wild Moon and Fer, a 6th year Harry POV that follows his Hogwarts routine and sexuality crisis. I haven’t checked it in ages but this is the perfect excuse for a reread 😌

day 4: a comfort fic

every once in a while I think of Nothing Left to Burn by @skeptiquewrites, it had such a lasting impact on me. Tee writes my favorite h/c flavour, raw yet soft, melancholy but also tender, a mix of bittersweet and hopeful that makes my heart ache. it’s so damn relatable and lovely. I adore a good second chances trope, it fits Drarry like a glove and the gorgeous Montreal aesthetics make this love story even more special and unique.

day 5: a romantic fic

how to pick just one?? this felt like an impossible task, but then Two Zinnias by @the-starryknight took my mind with such visceral force I started asking myself “could anything be more romantic than ex-enemies turned allies turned boyfriends going rogue and fighting a corrupted ministry while using Victorian flower codes on the run??” the answer is no - this fic is a thrill, an emotional rollercoaster from start to end and I remember how completely bewildered and in love I felt after reading it, utterly obsessed with this world and characters. so much story and heart under 17k, many memorable scenes and banger lines, the political tension, suspense and epic duelling never overshadowing the intensity and truth of what they felt for each other. peak romance!!!

[g0dwat3rwritings]

i rewrote this ask like three times already trying to word it perfectly lmao. fem!yuu x octavinelle (separately). the pair attends NRC’s annual winter ball together as friends, though they’re both unaware of their mutual crushes on each other. at the end of the ball azul/floyd/jade confess their feelings!! also if possible could yuu’s dress be based on either ariel’s pink one or cinderellas original one (the silvery one) if any part of this was unclear pls feel free to message me and i’ll clear it up! my brains literally melting rn bc i just finished this horrible essay for history and tbh atp im just word vomiting everything out 😭😭

This is my second time writing this, I lost all of my progress the first time 😭

I had so much fun with the second version of Jade's part 💀

@nisobird 🚨🚨azul🚨🚨

Warnings ;; none

Relationship ;; Platonic, turned Romantic

Type ;; Short Story/One-Shot

OCTAVINELLE

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

You were late, and Azul was panicking. Why were you late? Did you just not want to see him? Were you just blowing him off? Azul as terrified of you not coming, not wanting to see him.

Upon seeing the doors open, revealing you, in a dress similar to that of the Sea Princesses, Azul's jaw dropped. He straightened his back upon seeing you come his way.

He gave a small laugh, "well.. you look.. wonderful." You couldn't help the small laugh that came from you, "Thank you. You can blame Vil, he wouldn't let me come in a normal outfit." You laughed.

Azul gave a laugh in return, holding his hand out toward you upon hearing a slow song start overhead. "May I.. have this dance?" He asked, obviously nervous for your response.

You gave a smile and took his hand, "You may." Azul smiled and led you to the dance floor, one hand gliding toward your hip, and the other taking your own hand.

As you danced, he cleared his throat. "If I may, I have something to tell you." You nodded, motioning for him to continue. He gave a small, nervous chuckle. "I think I... No, I know that I love you." He said quickly, before giving a sigh. "That.. wasn't as bad as I'd suspected." He said with a nervous laugh, awaiting your response.

With a small laugh and shake of your head, you responded. "I love you too, Azul."

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

You hung out with the tweel, not exactly fond of the dance floor, especially while wearing heels and a puffy, long dress. "Hey, Jade. Are you good at dancing?"

Jade gave a chuckle, "Why, I'd say I'm all right, but I wouldn't say I'm the best." He admitted, "Although, Floyd is a much better dancer than myself." Jade gave one of his normal, light chuckles.

"Despite how good my other half is at dancing, he finds it.. boring and uninteresting." Jade hummed, taking a sip from the punch he held in his hand.

You gave a laugh, "yeah, that sounds like Floyd." Jade simply nodded in response. "Say, may I talk to you after the ball is through? I have something to tell you." He told you, finishing off his punch.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded nonetheless. After some more conversation with the eel, the ball was over and Jade guided you outside to somewhere quiet and concluded.

Jade turned to you, "I must admit to you that you are quite entertaining. Assuming you know my brother and I as well as you do, you know that we are very fond of those who are entertaining."

You listened, giving a nod toward the end. "Which is where I'd like to tell you that I-" A shout was heard from a tree, looking over, a fallen Floyd laid on his back at the bottom of the tree. "Oh, just tell 'em, stupid."

Jade and yourself couldn't help but laugh, "tell me what?" You asked. "I love you." He said simply, kissing your forehead lightly.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd had even shocked himself upon asking you to this ball, he had no intent on even coming in the first place. But the idea of seeing you in a dress, all completely dressed up, had him in a chokehold.

"Woah. You look nice." Floyd blinked, and you laughed in response. "Thank you, Floyd." He nodded and held a cup of punch toward you, and you took it. You thanked him once more before taking a sip on it.

"Hey, Shrimpy." Floyd said, getting your attention. "Yeah? What's up?" You asked. "What do you say we get out of here?" You blinked, "Floyd, we both just got here." You said with a laugh. "I know, but if we stay any longer then Crabby or Little Mackerel will come up and steal you. So." He said, making a popping sound with his lips as he waited for your response.

You shook your head with a laugh and nodded, "alright, but where do you want to go?" Floyd shrugged, "I don't care." You laughed, before taking his hand and simply taking him back to Ramshackle.

His eyes were glued to his hand even after you'd gotten to Ramshackle. You snorted, "Floyd." You said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Huh?"

"what's up with you?" You laughed, and Floyd shrugged in response, simply resting his chin on your head. He spoke up after minutes of standing like that. "Hey, Shrimpy?" He said, "yeah?"

"Love you." He said simply, kissing the top of your head before reverting back to resting his chin on top of your head.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

Officer Down | J.H.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: Jay takes a hit to the chest during a shootout and gives you quite the scare. Based on episode 6x2.

A/N: I finally wrote something!! (Shocking I know) it only took me 7 months but I’ve finally got a new fic for yall. I’m sorry for being so slow to write but the last 7 months have been ROUGH.

I’ve been wanting to write this fic forever and was finally inspired to finish it after rewatching the episode. I don’t really like how this turned out but that’s what happens after writers block I guess

Warnings: near death experiences, guns and shooting

Word Count: 637

-

This case had been difficult for the team, Jay getting hit his hardest with his dad being one of the victims on the fire. The longer the chase for the arsonist, the more you could see him spiraling. You expected it, all things considered. Jay may have said they didn’t have the best relationship, but it was still his father. What you didn’t expect was for Jay to disobey a direct order from Voight and go after the suspect on his own.

After you took his truck and two way, you thought he would be safe, far away from the action. So when you heard his call come in over the radio, your heart sank to your stomach.

“This is 5021 George. Emergency. Shots fired. Offender down, need an ambo. Lower Wacker and Columbus.”

As soon as you heard his location, you took off running, Kevin close behind. Rounding the corner, you saw Jay unmoving on the pavement, his side covered in blood.

“5021 Victor. Officer down. I repeat, officer down. Lower Wacker and Columbus. Get us an ambulance!” You rushed to Jay’s side, leaving Kevin to take care of the offender.

You tried to stay calm as you ripped open his shirt, panic threatening to override your training. You could see he was bleeding from his side, but you couldn’t tell what the damage was from the other bullets.

“Jay? Hey, talk to me.” Your voice wavered.

Jay was breathing heavily, looking at you with wide eyes. You pulled his vest away from his body, feeling under it for the bullet.

“It didn’t go through. It didn’t go through.” You pressed on the wound at his side with shaky hands. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

-

You watched intently as the paramedics patched up Jay in the back of the ambulance. There were officers all around you, blocking off the scene and questioning the other members of the team, but you tuned it all out.

Once the paramedics were done treating him and he had gotten a thorough scolding from Voight, you made your way over.

“Hey.” You took a seat next to him. “You gonna be okay?”

Jay looked at you sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m okay. No serious damage, just a few stitches and some major bruising.”

“Good.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t stop myself.” He said quietly.

You nodded lightly, giving him a small smile and patting his leg gently. “I know.”

The paramedic came back over and you used the interruption to excuse yourself. You could feel the aftermath of the situation setting in and you needed to get away from the scene.

You heard footsteps behind you and Kevin appeared at your side. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yep, I’m good. I’m fine.” You replied, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice.

Kevin put a hand on your arm, slowing you down and turning you towards him. “Woah, woah.” You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you met his gaze. “Yeah, that’s the adrenaline wearing off. It’s okay.”

“I thought he was dead.” You choked out the words.

Kevin put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “So did I.”

As the two of you made it back to the cars, he brought you in for a hug. You gripped his shirt tightly, embarrassed by your crying, but soaking in the comfort after the emotions of the past hour. You knew out of anyone, Kevin would never judge you for being human.

“I gotcha.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. “C’mon, Sarge said we’re done for the day. Jay’s in good hands. I’ll drive you home.”

You spared one last glance back towards Jay as you got into the car, only to find him looking right at you, his face etched with concern.

-

Writing Masterlist

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Hey 🙂

Really enjoying your writings.

May I request the slashers - the usual suspects (Jason/Michael/Sinclairs/Thomas) and anyone else if you want, mistaking their fem s.o for being romantic with someone else (like the situation with this other person looks totally sketch and could be construed for something not so innocent but its absolutely innocent - s.o would never cheat).

How would the slashers initially react and how would they feel and go about the situation.

❤

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment

Slashers and mistaking their s/o for being romantic with someone else

Jason Voorhees

He sees you holding a male camper’s hand as you walk away from the camp, and finds his heart breaking. Is he not enough? And if he isn’t, why would *that one* be?

Jason follows the two of you quietly, trying to see where this is going. He does not want to believe that you would truly cheat on him. But you give that camper sultry looks, and every time you do, Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

Finally, you arrive at a small clearing, far away from the camp.

“Now come on, honey, let daddy have some sugar”, the guy says, making grabby hands in the general direction of your chest.

“Oh I’ll let you have *something*, alright”, you say with a grin and, in one fluid motion, pull the small knife from your pocket and bury the blade in his throat.

“Shhh, no screaming, we don’t want to alert the others now, do we?”, you coo in a faux-comforting tone while his yellow camp shirt slowly turns red.

Jason comes out from between the trees and looks at you, bewildered.

You give him an apologetic smile. “There you are, love. Did you see all of that? Sorry. But this one was so gross that I just had to kill him myself.”

Now Jason just feels silly for ever doubting you.

Vincent Sinclair

He finally leaves his workshop for the day and wants to spend the rest of it with you, only to find you on the couch, with Lester leaning on you. It definitely looks like you’re cuddling.

Vincent feels like someone pulled the rug from under him. If you were to ever leave him, he would expect it to maybe be for Bo, but for Lester?

You and Lester both look up, and now Vincent notices that his youngest brother looks, quite frankly, miserable.

“Lester isn’t feeling well”, you tell Vincent in a soft voice. “Bo just left to the next town over, to get some meds, and asked me to take care of him until then.”

Lester coughs heavily. “Sorry, Bro. Didn’t mean to hog your girl.”

With his jealously forgotten, his protective older sibling instincts kick in, and he quickly sits down on Lester’s other side, putting his hand on his forehead. The youngest Sinclair is definitely running a decently high fever.

“If you let him lean on you for a bit, I can get up and make him some tea”, you say, and Vincent immediately agrees.

Freddy Krueger

He does not like you cozying up to other people, and being stuck in your subconscious, unable to do anything unless you fall asleep, sure isn’t helping.

Why are you watching horror movies with this loser? Why are you laughing so much? There you are, even casually mentioning Freddy by name, that should be enough of an indicator that you are unavailable, so why is this idiot still here?!

Once you fall asleep, Freddy confronts you about it. “I’ve killed significant others for less petty reasons before, bitch.”

“Okay? Sorry that I was trying to help you, I guess.”

“Help me?”

“Uhm, yeah? Did you not hear me tell him about you? Take a wild guess who the guy is gonna be thinking about when he goes to sleep tonight, and how those thoughts are gonna make him feel.”

Freddy presses his lips together. “...Fine, I guess. But next time, find a way to tell people about me without whoring yourself out to them, got it?”

Brahms Heelshire

You are getting just a tad to friendly with the new grocery delivery guy, and Brahms does not like that. It gives him flashbacks to Greta. So he tries to keep your attention away from the guy as well as he can. He unplugs the phone every time he calls, he demands your full attention during the times the man would be there and just generally tries to keep your eyes where they should be.

Finally, you have enough.

“Brahms, what is going on?!”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “Do you love him?”

“Huh?”

“The delivery man. Do you love him?”

“Wha- Oh. Is this what this is about?” You sit down on Brahms’ bed and gesture for him to do the same.

“That man is my cousin”, you finally tell him. “Kinda distant though. I found out when I did one of those genetics tests you can order from the internet for fun.”

“So… You’re not gonna leave with him?”

“Hell no. I told him I got a great thing going here. But he’s also the only blood related family I have any real access to here, so I’m trying to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.”

Bubba Sawyer

Subtle flirting is kind of part of business, especially when dealing with customers as a woman. You explained as much to Bubba when Drayton had the idea of you earning your keep by helping out with peddling his chili to people. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In the rare cases where he gets to watch from afar as you charm the customers into getting seconds, he finds himself irritatedly fiddling with his chainsaw.

One night, you come home, pull the hair net from your head and heavily sit down next to Bubba.

“What a day”, you grumble. “I swear, some of these people think they can treat me however they like just because they pay some chump change for Drayton’s chili.”

Now that catches Bubba’s attention. He looks at you, confused.

“What, you didn’t think that I *like* getting hit on by randos every day, did you?”, you say. “I want to tell them that I am married, but Drayton doesn’t want me to. Says they’re paying for the view and that feeling like they’re encroaching on another guy’s territory is going to scare them away.”

Now Bubba coos empathetically and begins rubbing small circles on your back, to help you relax. Now that he knows that you don’t like it, he feels a lot better about it.

[redrandomposts]

this is the same anon from the abo ask (I’ll use 🎀 to identify myself)

I am yet again obsessed with ur takes on au’s!! The Luka-Ivan mom group idea is literally so genius, and I think those kids are definitely going to have some crazy playdates with eachother when they are older (the Luka Ivan friendship dynamic is too powerful to exist in canon but god would their dynamic be sight to see)

ALSO!!! Pre reveal I think till would totally be giving HIMSELF the shovel talk/trying to. Like I think he would BEG Ivan to tell him any details about the guy or give him his number so till can give the guy a piece of his mind!!

I also LOVE the concept of maternity shoot modeling for Ivan, and I think it would be delightful if the pregnancy was very public (only once till knows conspicuously…) with talk show appearances and stuff!

also in terms of angst potential- when do you think the secret gets out? How late in the game does till understand his actual goal- and most importantly, do you think Ivan would yield and tell him OR Till figures it out himself (and if so how in your opinion would that go?)

-🎀

honestly till is so dense that itd take seventeen wet and not wet dreams each, the girls pushing him, and some offhand comments from ivan to figure it out. ivan is the sort of guy to just... not talk about it. like, only luka knows because of their talks that till is the father. the rest only suspects it, but also till is normally too busy to get laid, and maybe ivan got vulnerable or something.

you mentioned that till will find out when the baby is born, but like, hes so dense that teal eyes or gray hair will not clue it in for him. like, a few months after the baby is born, ivan gets into a heat and just spills it to who his omega believes is his alpha, till? that, or luka spills it one random day, because he is fed up.

anyway, angst aside, till settles down with ivan immediately. ivan cooks but till doesn't allow him to clean, till carries every single bag, gets whatever craving ivan has no matter how absurd, and when the baby is born, ivan is dead asleep while till takes care of the baby at night, activites are a trio thing, and they become a buy one buy all package.

and, well, till is down Bad. what band? what music? what career? all he knows is a child and a wife.

all that's left is to write it... not by me, btw, i want to read it and reading your own writing does not go well.

[soliloquy-dawn]

Director's commentary on Love Letters!

Would love to know a bit about your process behind writing it, too, and what goes into it :) if you want!

Hello May, thank you for the ask!!!! And what a question. I am more of a pantser when I write; I need a solid idea, or an anchor for a story, and then I will waffle on and just see where the wind takes me. But with Love Letters, I planned out this fic even before I put the metaphorical pen to paper. I wanted to touch upon certain themes and events, and it all had to line up pretty neatly to have the final effect I’m going for. The ending is a crucial part of the story for me, and it contains a lot of my own thoughts and feelings regarding the nature of storytelling and how it’s been captured in Atonement. I am changing things (in comparison to what they were in Atonement)… to maybe say something different. Or, be a bit more hopeful. Maybe. 

And when it comes to actually writing the fic… First, I gorged myself on Atonement, both the film and the book. I wanted to soak up the atmosphere, but also the writing style, the sentence structure, the cadence of it, the music. I still go back to specific fragments and reread them to get into the mood before editing. 

Then, I drafted part One, and sketched out Two and Three. I do admit, part One was probably the most fleshed out before I started writing, but I added and changed a lot while editing. For part Two and Three, hmm… I know exactly what’s going to happen, and what’s important, but I suspect I will surprise myself a bunch of times as I get through the drafting process. 

Anddd, I also tried to read up about specific historical events I want to include or reference. I am by no means trying to make this story historically accurate. I am too much of a layman for that. But I strive to capture some authenticity, or at least an impression of authenticity.  

There’s one particular book I’m reading now, about a particular historical event. Bucky and Buck will be deeply affected by that event. I don’t want to say what book so as not to spoil the fic, but one thing I’ll say is that it’s not Dunkirk, but something… of similar caliber. 

And here's a wee cover I made recently, just for fun. Thank you soo much for the ask again, my dear.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Wizard

Words: 983

@wolfstarmicrofic

I wanted to write something with Professor McGonagall in after Dame Maggie Smith’s passing, so here it is.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“It doesn’t matter.” Remus’ face hadn’t brightened since he’d entered Professor McGonagall’s office to discuss his plans for the future. “Nobody will hire a werewolf.”

“You may be a werewolf, Mr Lupin. But you’re also a wizard. And a bloody good one at that.” He looked up at her, surprised by her language. “You have so much potential.”

“Do I? Really?” Remus was unconvinced. “And when I need at least two days off every month? Or when they learn what I am?”

“There will be something out there for you, I’m sure of it.” She frowned before pulling a tin from one of her drawers and opening it. “Biscuit, Lupin?”

He hesitated before taking one. “I just look at what Sirius, James and Lily are about to start and I wish I had the same opportunities.”

“I understand.” She smiled sadly at him, “Are you going home to Wales after you graduate?”

“Sirius has bought a bloody flat in London. He wants me to live there with him, but I don’t know.” Remus took a bite of the biscuit. It was sugary and spicy and melted in his mouth. “I know he means well, because he always does, I just feel like I’d be taking advantage of him.”

“If you had a full vault at Gringotts, and Sirius became unable to work due to… say, an accident at work, would you not want to help him as much as you possibly could?” She stared at him, watching as a few more pieces fell into place.

“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for him. He’d hate that, though.” Remus said.

“Just like you hate it. You’d still want to help him though.” It wasn’t a question, but Remus nodded. “You can’t hide in your childhood bedroom and never try, Remus.”

“I know.”

“If you could do anything, what would you want to do? Auror? Healer?”

“I’d actually like to teach, professor.” He said, smiling for the first time. “I love tutoring the younger students, and I think I’m pretty good at it.” His face fell again, “But again, what school will hire a teacher who needs time off every month and may attack the students?”

“In thirteen years, have you ever attacked anyone?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

“Other than myself? No.” He said.

“Then I don’t think that even need be a consideration. Have you spoken with Professor Dumbledore about this?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it, honestly.” He looked at his hands which were twisting in his lap. “Do you honestly think it’s possible?”

“Absolutely. Leave it with me.” Nobody believed him when he relayed this story back at the dorm, but he swore that she winked at him.

“Professor?”

“I’ll speak to Professor Dumbledore and see what can be done.” She nodded, “I wish you believed in yourself as much as Sirius believes in you.” Remus’ cheeks went scarlet. “He told me he wants to work in the Ministry. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to be specific.”

“But he has a place at the Auror academy.” Remus was baffled, “He got the letter weeks ago.”

"I suspected he hadn’t told you.” She sighed, “I think this is a conversation the two of you need to have.”

“Yes, I think you’re right.” He said. “Thank you, professor.”

“Remus, not only are you a talented wizard, but you are a good person. You deserve a good life, please never think that you don’t.” She paused, “I’ll be in touch once I’ve spoken to Professor Dumbledore.”

Remus got to his feet, “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Professor.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr Lupin.” She smiled as he left her office. Dumbledore was probably still in his office now, she’d make it if she was quick.

Remus rushed to the dormitory, hoping that James and Pete were otherwise occupied and was relieved to find Sirius there alone, lounging on Remus’ bed.

“Moons?” He said, lifting his head slightly. “How’d it go?”

“You turned down your academy spot?” Remus said from the doorway.

“Ah. She mentioned that, then?” Sirius sat up and crossed his legs, looking more than a little nervous. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” Remus moved to sit facing him. “You were so excited. You and James—”

“James turned it down too,” Sirius said quietly.

“Were either of you planning on saying anything?” Remus sighed, “You didn’t tell me because you knew how I’ve been feeling about it all.”

“I hate that I have the privilege of turning down jobs that people dream of, and I’m able to just walk into something else. It’s not fair.” He rested his hand on the bed between them, and Remus linked their fingers. “The thing about being an auror is upholding the law. But a lot of the laws don’t make sense.”

“So… what are you going to do?”

“We’ve been offered internships. James is still in Magical Law Enforcement but wants to end up in the Wizengamot. Help make the laws better.” Remus smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’m going to work in the Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I want to make things better for you. Set up a Werewolf Support Centre, get this fancy wolfsbane stuff made available, there’s so much we can do!”

“You can’t just give up your dream of—”

“That isn’t my dream anymore,” Sirius said, shrugging slightly. “All I want is to make things better for you and honestly, anyone else who needs it. It’s not charity and it’s not pity—”

“It’s love,” Remus said.

Sirius met his gaze, “Of course, it’s love, Remus.”

Remus just stared at him. “I love you, too, you know?”

“I know.” Sirius smiled. “Can we talk about your meeting now we’ve discussed mine?”

“I think I’m going to be a professor.”

[moonstruckme]

Oh last one I swear. But nobody seems to write any Peter fics where the reader is an artist/art student and I just always saw the concept as rlly cute. Like science student and art student do you see where I’m going with this 😋 anyways. Just brainrot. Idk if this counts as a request lmao

-🍁/🍂 (iforgot what emoji I use)

Hi again, haha! I didn't set out to answer both your asks in one day, but I already had this one ready to go, so. I know you didn't necessarily request it, but I decided to write a little blurb anyway, hope you like it! (And it's the first emoji, but I'll know it's you either way :))

Peter Parker x artist!reader ♡ 598 words

Peter used to get an odd sort of pride from thinking he was always the last one on campus, messing around in the lab until the early hours of the morning. But then he’d met you, and you’d totally dethroned him. 

There’s bright light coming from inside one of the art studios when Peter passes by, and he detours, heading for it. He’s a mutant that can run on an average four hours of sleep and his eyes are aching, so he can’t imagine how exhausted you must be. But if he didn’t interfere, he wonders if you’d go home at all. 

When he enters the studio, he has to close his eyes against the sparks jumping off your project. 

“Sweetheart?”

The light behind his eyelids fades, and he opens them to see you lifting your welder’s helmet, setting your torch down on the table beside you. 

“Peter, hey.” You blink as though coming out of a fog. “Are you already done for the night?”

He smiles at you, moving closer to admire your sculpture. It doesn’t look quite halfway done, but to Peter’s crude eye, it seems like it’s coming along beautifully. You’d shown him your sketch before you’d started, it’s going to be massive and elaborate by the time you’re done. But you won’t be finishing tonight. 

“It’s nearly four, baby. Time to pack up.” 

Your eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He nods, and you purse your lips, displeased with the passage of time. “Okay, you go ahead. I’m going to get to a good stopping point, and I’ll meet you at home.” 

It sounds reasonable, but Peter knows you better. 

“You can get back to it tomorrow,” he says, slipping your helmet off for you and placing it carefully beside your torch. “Don’t you think it’ll come out even better if you’re well-rested while you work? I don’t want my girl getting in a blowtorch accident.”

“I’m not that tired,” you argue, but your blinks are slow, almost dazed, and Peter suspects that if he put a pillow under your head right now, you’d pass out in a hot second. “And I’m too good to burn myself.” 

Peter grins. “That’s true,” he agrees, moving behind you to untie your apron. You let him slip it over your head. “It’s looking really great, by the way.” He undoes in the tight bun in the back of your head, knowing your scalp has to be sore. “Did you make any changes from your original idea?”

“A couple.” You lean into Peter’s fingers as he massages the back of your head lightly, shaking your hair out at the roots. “Sometimes it just goes where it wants to go, you know?”

“I don’t,” he says, taking your hand to lead you out of the room, “but I believe you.” 

You chuckle. It turns into a yawn halfway through. “Right, sorry. What’d you do today, bug boy?”

Peter hangs your apron on the hook by the door, closing it behind you. You’re all but leaning into him, further proof that you’re more drowsy than you’re letting on. “You know, bug things.” 

“Come on.” You bump your hip into his lightly, and your voice is by no means loud, but it creates a soft echo in the dark, empty building. “You got to see my project, tell me about yours.” 

Peter shrugs. “I was just messing around with environmental nanotoxicology.” 

Your laugh rings out, surprised and joyous, in the silent hallway. “I have no idea what that means,” you say, pulling him closer to you by his hand. “Tell me about it?”

[butterflydm]

this is random but i just remembered that ages ago i saw an ask game for asking fic writers their 5 favorites/ones they're most proud of of their own fics, and i would love to know yours if you're up for it! it would be so interesting to hear a Butterfly Career Retrospective haha

feel free to be flexible on the number and discuss as many or as few fics as you feel like, and to count a whole series as a single entry (like voice, although if you have any particular favorite installments or interludes within that that you'd like to note i'd be curious to hear that too!)

This took a while but I finally got it done, @markantonys!

I have written a lot of fics, so this was a difficult challenge. I am somewhat helped out by the fact that old fics tend to fade out of my memory… but then if I reread a bit of them, I tend to remember why I wrote them and what I loved about them. I did not limit myself to five fics (I tried!) but these are roughly in reverse chronological order of when I posted them.

not in the stars, but in ourselves - trying to bob and weave and make something that feels narratively satisfying out of the mess that is Mat Cauthon's late series arc has become something of a hobby of mine! This is fic is one of several where I narratively examine parts of the canon that didn't work so well for me and try to rearrange them into something that feels like it rings true for the previous characterization and choices.

This fic in particular really made me see how the roadblocks that existed in each of the character's main plotlines was so much easier to solve if they had access to the other main characters (and I suspect that's part of why Jordan kept them so unnaturally separated during these arcs).

I also really enjoy the romance in this fic, and how the characters interact with prophecy in more unexpected ways, and how Rand and Mat help each other through their traumas, and how each of the members of the polycule bring their own perspective to the relationship.

the caffrey exception in White Collar fandom - this fic languished mostly unfinished on my harddrive for a long time before polyweek gave me an excuse to finish it up and post it! I wasn’t really in White Collar fandom, was the problem, and I always write and post more consistently when I have fellow fandom people to encourage me. I also was originally watching WC with my (now ex-)girlfriend and I stopped watching after we broke up, iirc, so I didn’t actually finish the show until years later. And by the time I was writing it, I didn’t feel like there was all that much visible fandom around. But it had a nice little response during polyshipweek, so I was really happy with how it all turned out. Makes me think that one day maybe I’ll finish up and post that RENT fanfic that’s been on my harddrive for eighteen million years.

negotiating with the truth in The Wheel of Time fandom - you can tell I got fancy with this fic because I gave the chapters titles, lol. This fic leans hard into Mat being an unreliable narrator and playing around with that, and it was a lot of fun to focus on and explore that part of him. I do love a lot of the fics I've written in WoT so trying to narrow it down more was tough (and I still only managed to narrow down to three!) but I really loved writing this one and exploring the differing ways that Mat and Rand were approaching this relationship of theirs and how they come to a compromise in the end. I think I really liked that they genuinely do have different wants and desires that need to be navigated.

voice interlude: feels like falling for the first time in The Wheel of Time fandom - this is, a little bit, subbing in for the Voice series as a whole, but I wanted to pick out a complete story and not something still in progress. I am pretty hopeful that Voice will get finished (there are three more main fics in the series, I think — one that mostly spoils through bk9: winter’s heart; one that mostly spoils through bk12: the gathering storm; and then one with whole-series spoilers) but I have some fairly long unfinished works in past fandoms, so eggs and hatching & etc.

What makes this fic in particular stand out to me is how I was able to really take this one moment in time in the series and expand on it so that I could deep-dive into Mat’s characterization and what he was thinking and feeling, and it’s such a revelatory moment for Mat. I enjoy showing characterization via writing about sex, and the interludes in the Voice series really allow me to do that.

my mouth (your lips) my hands (your hips) in The Magicians fandom - This fic where Margo and Eliot approach Quentin on this more equal ground (of them competing to see which of them can land him first) and it developing into a true polyam relationship… I really loved exploring how messy but ultimately loving it was. I also loved delving into Margo as an aromantic character in this fic, and how the great love of her life is her best friend.

A lot of my own fears and pains and worries made it into the three main characters in this one, though all in ways that make sense with their own base characterization, I think. There’s this one line that Eliot thinks - “he had always been better at self-preservation than bravery” and that is 100% canon Eliot but… yeah, it’s also me. One of the things I am working on in therapy is loosening the stranglehold of my self-preservation so that I can be a little braver when it comes to reaching out to other people.

If you like my poly fics in WoT fandom, you might also enjoy my marqueliot fics (but I wouldn’t recommend the show tbh. Or, well, I might rec it up until the episode “All That Hard Glossy Armor”. That’s a good one to end on. And it’s a Margo episode!).

searching for a sound (we hadn’t heard before) in The Magicians fandom - I wrote some serious fix-it fics in this fandom. But this fic was me taking the kind of ridiculous angle on a plotline that I think that the show might have actually pulled off, if it had been so inclined. This fic was also me balling up all my frustration at the poor writing choices and lobbing it at the show’s forehead. It was very cathartic to write. And I think it’s pretty funny too, so that’s a bonus.

(I’m Not Calling You A) Liar for Steven Universe fandom — I am cheating here and including a vid. This vid is… if I sliced up my heart (Hannibal style) and laid it out on a plate, it would look something like this vid. I actually started watching Steven Universe because I saw the “Stronger Together” clip with Garnet but soon after I started watching… holy shit, Pearl and her deep heartbreak over Rose just grabbed me by the throat and did not let me go. Watching her slowly process and begin to resolve her grief was a very healing experience when I was watching the show. There was something very much intensely yearning about Pearl at the start of SU, and how she was trying so hard to hide it (from Steven but from the other gems as well). But she can’t move on until she confronts and heals!

My favorite of the vids that I’ve made, I think, and the one I’m proudest of. There is maybe one single clip that I would change now if I went back to edit it again, but that’s it. I’m fully satisfied with the rest of it; and this is not the case with most of my vids. My Yuri! On Ice vid is probably the other one that comes closest to feeling like I wouldn’t change anything now.

Enyo’s Daughter in MCU fandom — so I am a bit of an odd one out in MCU fandom, because the ship that I liked the best, over any other… Tony and Natasha. Iron Man and Black Widow. It’s a complex and thorny ship, but I liked exploring it. Tony and Natasha both get to be messy and fucked up and exploring situations like that can be interesting. It was written pretty soon after the first Avengers movie came out, if I recall correctly. I never did finish the sequel to this fic, which I am kinda sad about.

Any fandom where canon is currently developing can be kinda tough for me to stay ahead of, in terms of writing any big fic series(es) — this is also why my big Star Wars WIP is destined never to be finished, tbh. I started writing it before a lot of the current canon even exists, and trying to go back and finish it would be difficult because the new shows & movies have changed so much and it can be hard to mentally reconcile what I knew back then vs what I know now when it comes to canon. Once the new MCU movies after Avengers came out, this fic was kinda doomed to never get the sequel finished, alas. And this is why WoT having a closed book canon has made writing fic for it easier, I think.

Melt into Time from American Idol RPF — time-travel fic! I’ve attempted it from time to time, but this one I actually finished. I don’t remember the actual process of writing this anymore, because my memory is for crap, as I mentioned at the start, but it is probably my favorite fic that I wrote in this fandom overall. It deals with second chances and a lot of yearning and people being emotionally messy (a theme for me, for sure).

Justice, Be Not Blind from Dexter — my one and only Dexter fic. What I remember most about writing this fic is that despite how short it is (less than 1k), I did so much research. Miguel Prado was hands-down my favorite character who ever appeared on Dexter and so I wanted to write a fic for him, but I wanted it to sound as true to his character voice as possible. I don’t even really remember the extent of the research that I did and it’s been so long that I couldn’t tell you anymore whether or not the character voice is accurate, but I remember how much I wanted to get this right and how much work I put into trying to get Miguel to feel genuine.

Travelers Without Map or Compass for Doctor Who fandom - cute romantic fluff, but I’m very fond of it. It captures a sort of vibe in the Doctor & Rose relationship that was very appealing to me, and I enjoyed exploring and expanding my thoughts on some of the rooms in the TARDIS.

Another Nameless Planet in the Star Wars (Prequel) fandom — I wrote longer fics in Star Wars fandom but honestly I think I captured Anakin best in this small fic that’s not really about anything in particular except Anakin wanting to be treated as an equal (by Obi-Wan specifically).

I have fics that I wrote before this point, but most of them I genuinely don’t remember writing to the point of going, “huh, oh, wow, I guess that was me, huh?” lol. But going back over my fics… man, it really is like having the deepest yearnings of your heart spread out in front of the world sometimes, isn’t it?

Thanks for sending me on this journey to the past! I hope you enjoyed it. <3

[unquietspiritao3]

musings on rpf

Been thinking a lot about RPF since the CoC3 outtakes. I think because it’s brought me a very small bit of exposure with people who aren’t familiar with the concept, and I also know from talking to friends that for many of them, Taskmaster is their first RPF fandom.

There are a lot of misconceptions about RPF and people who write it, and there’s both healthy and unhealthy ways to approach it. All this stuff that I, as a Fandom Old and veteran RPF writer, know and take for granted, but that other people may not have worked out yet. So I thought I should write some of it out explicitly, as best I can.

(And, too, part of this is me thinking, What would I want to convey if someone who inspired one of my stories reached out to me for a direct conversation about it? Not that I think that would ever or should ever happen, but it’s hard not to think about when you’ve had an experience like this.)

The biggest misconception is that RPF comes from unhealthy parasocial relationships. (I’m specifying ‘unhealthy’ because there are actually healthy ways to have a parasocial relationship, and nearly everyone has at least one. Other people have written about this in more detail here and here.) I’m not denying that in some cases, this misconception could be true, but by and large, the circle containing the fans who have an unhealthy parasocial relationship with a celebrity and the circle containing the fans who write RPF about said celebrity are a Venn diagram without much overlap. By and large, RPF writers are not delusional. By and large, we are incredibly aware of the difference between the real person and the character we’re writing, and we do not want to violate that real person’s boundaries. (If they want to go to AO3 and read fic titles and summaries—and perhaps more—then that’s their choice, of course.)

Taking myself as an example, I’ve talked here before about how I jumped into writing in the Taskmaster fandom with a very basic knowledge of the comics’ lives off-screen. I don’t feel particularly attached to any of them. I don’t feel like I know them. Even with James Acaster, whom I know the most about (the majority of it learned after I started writing!) and whom I relate to the most, I don’t imagine that we could be ‘friends’ or whatever if we met. In fact, I sometimes suspect I wouldn’t like him much if I knew him in real life. That’s not what this is about.

Another misconception is that all RPF is porn. Okay, yes, almost all of my Taskmaster fic is rated Explicit, and a lot of it is kinky porn. But there is a reason for that, which I’ll get to at the end of this little essay. Also, yes, Taskmaster RPF in general is extremely kinky, but I don’t think anyone can seriously argue that we are projecting that energy onto an entirely sweet, innocent, wholesome show. Anyway, the point is, there’s plenty of non-explicit RPF. Including most of what I wrote before Taskmaster. That’s not what this is about, either.

What is it about, then? For me, ultimately, it’s about the same thing any creative project you make and put out into the world is about. It’s saying, “Here’s something of me. Do you relate to it?”

The celebrity it’s based on only provides a germ of inspiration, taken from something in their public persona which I relate to. To fill out the character, I water that little seed with things from my own life or simply musings on human nature, and then I put that character in a situation I find interesting and see what grows. Keeping the name/likeness/biographical details (to an extent) of the celebrity is simply a shortcut to finding the other people who might relate when I put it out in the world.

You see, my goal for my RPF is not to have the celebrity read it. If they’re going to be bothered by it, I hope they don’t read it. I certainly don’t want anyone sending it to them or anything like that. While it was hilarious for Alex to say what he did, and it’s been a positive experience overall, I never expected or wished for it to happen.

My goal, especially with explicit and kinky porn like ‘A big boy like you’, is to let my readers know, If you see yourself in this, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. And to get that same feedback in return.