#take a shot every time I say the word fandom

[wafflinglumos]

And what if I said Regulus wasn’t in Sirius’ shadow?

THE most NOBLE and ANCIENT House of Black would NOT allow their children to feel beneath someone, even someone in their own family.

Sirius’ arrogance is a MAJOR part of Harry Potter as a whole, so Regulus being the canonical golden child that he was would not feel inadequate to him in any way shape or form.

The only one I’ll let this fandom get away with making insecure is Andromeda and even then, this fandom doesn’t even care enough about her to do that, instead they decide to give that to Regulus and Sirius. Yay.

This fandom exhausts me terribly.

[momentomori24]

Long-ass fandom rant because I need to scream into the void to find a reason to live let's gooooo

[For context I wrote most of this last friday which I thought was good to mention so the timeline makes a bit more sense. I really held off on this one XD Welp, let's start this trainwreck.]

Ok, I know I have other long posts I should be paying attention to (*cough* Keiji's shady shenanigans rant *cough*) among other probably more important things, but quickly wanna get this off my chest because it's kinda started to bug me and add even more concerns about the yttd fandom than I already have. This is specifically going to be about soushin-- yeah, yeah, I know-- but also bleed into something more... broad. Or broader. Idk, I'm a Tumblr user not a grammar teacher.

While browsing through Twitter I've been noticing a little spike in popularity for yttd with more fans and soushin shippers emerging as well. Which is cool, the game deserves all the praise and popularity it can get. And as someone whose been here for years, I'm glad that the fandom is slowly and steadily grown more accepting of soushin compared to the attitude around it way back when. There's been some genuinely really cool stuff that really does the ship justice from a lot of talented artist and writers that I absolutely love (will link some later), but something I've also been seeing a lot of from fans is what I can only describe as a "sanitisation resurgence" (but not really. kinda). A week or two ago on Twitter I stumbled across some soushin discourse where some people were sharing the sentiment that "if soushin end up being related and/or have a big age gap the ship is ruined". That they can only be two years apart max or else Nankidai has "fumbled them".

And the only response to that I had is "what". Like, how is that a deal breaker to you lot? How did you even get into the ship without accepting that those things could very likely end up being canon? How are you here and not ready to ship them no matter what's revealed about them after everything we've learned about them? Midori and Shin possibly being related was always on the table, and Midori potentially having already been an adult when Shin was in high school was always a very real possibility ever since we learned that he was never actually a student at his school. This is literally what soushin shippers got harassed by antis for years ago. Soushin is "problematic", and that's why people who shipped them where treated so badly in the fandom or just excluded all together. I can't count how many timed I've come across a "soushin shippers dni" or "soushiners are freaks and I hope you all have a bad day" or soushin fanfics/art with "I DON'T ACTUALLY SHIP IT BTW" and "not a ship" and "actual soushin shippers dni" attached to it. I can't recall how many times I had to explain myself with the "I ship but I don't condone it irl" or explain why I shipped them to not be labelled as a freak as if you need an excuse to ship anything fictional to begin with. I still remember soushin artist @uououoon and how they ended up deleting their Twitter account years ago because of the harassment and slanderous comments they were receiving for ships the fandom deemed problematic. When a person was saying their goodbyes to them on reddit and made some goodbye art (which is now deleted), some assholes in the comments were calling them weirdos and pedophiles for how they explored fiction and "glorified abuse" (which are the usual comments to uououoon's art posted on reddit unfortunately). I only caught wind of this one because back when they were still active in the fandom they were my favourite soushin artist and I went through their stuff almost every day and was tipped off when I randomly couldn't find their account anymore. They were such a nice and incredibly talented person too so the fact they essentially got bullied by a flock of stupid western fans seriously irritates me thinking about it again. This is why we cannot have nice things.

Soushin is "problematic". It's toxic and subtly abusive and important to the characters in question, but that didn't stop people from going after people who wanted to explore a dark, canon relationship (romantic, platonic or otherwise). How the actual hell did we go from "soushin has very toxic and problematic elements and you shouldn't be shipping it, you fucking freaks" to "you can ship it but don't make it actually problematic, you fucking freaks" like what is happening right now???? The worst part is that this is coming from other soushin shippers. The fact that there's actually soushiners with "proshippers dni" or "soushin is not for proship" genuinely makes me want to bite someone. Like, you horrible summer child-- not only are you demonstrating that you don't even know what "proship" actually means, but you're also spitting in the face of the people in our community that have CARRIED this ship for us for years. Why throw them under the bus to be one of the “good ones” in the eyes of antis when they hate us all anyway?

This brings us back to the sanitisation point: I feel like soushin is slowly being "sanitised" to fit the sensitive palette of antis by trying to make them as "morally acceptable" as possible. It's a worry I’ve had for a long time that once the fandom grows more accepting of the ship we'll be seeing more people basically scrubbing soushin of everything that made, well, soushin, to justify enjoying it. I've seen a bit of it already with a few people trying to say it's "not abusive" or just erase Shin's very obvious trauma by Midori all together for quite some time. Guess it's starting to happen on a bigger scale sooner rather than later. Maybe. Personally I don't think soushin having a big age gap or being related would ruin the ship. It just adds another layer of fucked up to their already fucked up relationship (I already hc Midori to be significantly older anyway so maybe I'm just biased). It doesn't really matter. I came here for toxic yaoi. I want nuclear waste level toxicity, not nuclear waste level toxicity presented in the most conventional and moral way possible. What would the point even be? It’s like packaging poison in a grape juice box. Like, it might be harmless to look at and more justifiable to think of as delicious, but it’s still poison. You making it look all cute and innocent isn’t going to change that. It's kinda funny and by that I mean not really that people will talk about wanting more "toxic yaoi" but when the yaoi is actually toxic and messy and horrific they will cry about it being "bad" or "ruined". You don't actually want dark dynamics, you want dark dynamics stripped of everything that makes them uncomfortable and dark so it's digestible to your tastes that don't even align with said dynamics in the first place. The worst part of this whole "soushin isn't proship so it's fine" bullshit is that it relies on trying to make the ship more "morally acceptable" or "legal" than other ships. Dawg, we are talking about abuse. You shouldn't be minimising that to say "well it's not [insert other terrible thing] so it's fine!!" That's not the "gotcha" you think it is. It’s one of the reasons why antis being into soushin made me feel weird cuz like you can’t ship it and then turn around to insult someone else, man (I’ve seen so many soushin defenders bash other “proships” to justify theirs like what are you doing--).

Realistically, the simplest and smartest thing to do when I see someone mischaracterise or butcher my faves is to either block or ignore and pretend to not care so I don't act on my sixth sense telling me to off them and myself. Realistically, this shouldn't be a big deal or anything that important, but this attitude is usually weaponized to harm and harass people who don't conform to their purity crisis over fiction. I'm in the unfortunate position of being not only a Your Turn to Die fandom dweller, but a Hazbin Hotel and The Coffin of Andy and Leyley one too. I'm used to being labelled a rapist and incest apologist irl who's delusional and deserves to be harassed and insulted by virtue of the media or ships I like (probably not a good thing). But people who are more active in these fandoms than me have it much worse as they get this shit directly waaaay more often while I mostly get called these things indirectly, which is what motivated me more to make this post.

So a couple days ago someone made some art of Monika from ddlc, Nikole (don't know the game sorry) and Ashley from Tcoaal. A lot of people on Twitter, unsurprisingly, bashed it for including Ashley to the point where some felt the need to clarify that they like her as a character but her actions (for some reason I do not understand like Monika has also done some seriously evil shit why are you not applying that logic to her too?). What struck me the most is that a yttd fan-- a self proclaimed "Midori enthusiast"-- ALSO quoted it to bash having Ashley in it. A freaking Midori fan. I told them to mind their business and start separating fiction and reality and to stop being a hypocrite, and thus ensued the most hilarious and stupidest convo I've had in a while:

You can literally count the seconds it takes for these guys to start throwing predator accusations and slurs at people. So "not exploring fiction correctly" makes me weird, but harming or putting real people on blast for nothing is free game, apparently. They're not the worst, both in this instance and in general, but it just stuck with me. Which is impressive, cuz I normally don't have much emotions to spare aside from general mild irritation for things like this. Maybe it's the Sonic feet.

But it ties into my issue. Midori's an absolute piece of garbage, yet some people will convince themselves that his actions are in some way justifiable to justify their hatred of something else (that is a lot less severe in this case) rather than love and let love. Tcoaal is not an "incest game" and if you describe it like that unironically you are not ready to be on the internet. No, it doesn't condone or glorify incest-- it literally does the opposite. If you need the characters to look into the camera and say "what we're doing is wrong and immoral" before doing something bad, I think you're the problem at that point. For the same reason you liking Midori (probably) doesn't mean you support human experimentation and torture, someone liking Tcoaal doesn't mean they support incest and someone shipping soushin doesn't mean they support abuse. These things are dark and shouldn't be condoned irl, but this is fiction. We can do whatever the hell we want. Being into darker themes and media doesn't have to reflect your real world views, but the inability to grasp that sentiment leads people to make their interests as moral and sanitised as possible and, feeling morally superior, will go after people who don't do that. This person deadass said that "incest is not morally grey and absolutely unjustifiable" (didn't even say that it wasn't btw) as if their blorbo hasn't committed so many atrocities for kicks that I personally find more unjustifiable. That line implies that they think that everything else Ashley has done and everything Midori has done can be justified because it wasn't incest specifically, which I find is a WILD thing to insinuate XD But it really does encapsulate the hoops antis will jump through to defend their likes while attacking yours despite the fact that it's literally the exact same as theirs. Rule of thumb: if someone accuses you of condoning something immoral because you like it in fiction, apply that logic to them, look at what they like and if their wet little meow meow is the Joker, Eren, Killua, Makima, Midori or whatever other morally bankrupt character you can come up with, take that as a confession and run. Cuz half the time these guys are actually nuts. While quote tweeting someone to shit on their art isn't the worst thing, considering how twitter has treated tcoaal artists the fact that they'd potentially open them up to harassment pissed me off, which is probably evident from my tone.

[Hi hi, this is me from the present right now cuz a more recent development came up so I’m using it as an example here too.]

While most of the things listed here have all been happening online, this attitude can come up in the real world as well.

As OP states, a bunch of hellaverse cosplayers were targetted at a french convention by haters of the show trying to ruin their cosplay. This is already completely unacceptable but the thing I can’t for the life of me get over is torching their costume while they’re still wearing it. Literally attempting to set someone on fire. All over a fucking show. It’s baffling how people can justify actions like this because they think your taste in fiction is so disgusting it’s Ok for them to hurt you. Not just online, but outside as well. It’s not the first time a hellaverse cosplayer has been harassed (last time it was a Valentino cosplayer but then again Val fans get shit from all sides all the time), and while I’m pretty sure these will remain as isolated cases it’s still scary to think about. What’s even more scary to think about how people think that their opinion on hazbin hotel has any relevance to the situation. So many of the comments in that post are just “I hate Hazbin Hotel, but—” or “I hate the fandom, but--” or “I hate Vivzie, but—” and I’m literally here ready to start pouncing like SHUT UP. No buts. That is not in any way important here. You not liking the show or the creator should not be important to the situation of cosplayers being actively harmed. You don’t have to signal your allegiances before showing basic human empathy, goddamnit. And what’s even worse is that some people have just turned this into a “b-but the hazbin fandom!!” issue, which is insulting. For example:

The “Hazbin fans do blackface and disrespect black people daily” is a reference to ONE Alastor cosplayer that nobody had defended. Not even fans. At least no one I can find. Yet they are using this one bad apple to generalise the whole fandom as "bad" and down play the amount of bullshit the hatedom does to fans on a regular. It kinda makes me feel sick that someone would look at a situation like this and spin this into a “fandom thing” rather than focusing on the victims. That they don’t deserve to be taken as seriously just because of the fandom their in. Some lunatic in the comments was literally completely minimising this whole thing saying “some red paint (fake blood capsules) isn’t nearly as bad as lynching and what black people have gone through in America” before calling anyone who called out that that’s completely irrelevant racist for liking Hazbin Hotel like are you kidding me. My homies in Christ, someone almost got lit on fire can everyone please stay on the goddamn topic. This is one of the rare moments where I was kinda proud of twitter as the majority of the comments and quotes where calling out their bullshit, but the amount of likes and some of the comments are still disappointing.

So what points am I trying to make here? This was very spontaneous and rushed so apologies if it feels messy cuz it very much is messy. But my main points boil down to this: Purification, sanitation and the “fiction equals reality” and "your fictional tastes reflect on you morality irl" arguments need to die. They just have to. While petting Shin on a daily basis gives me enough serotonin to find the will to live, the only true solace I will find is when people start being normal. People shouldn’t be getting harassed or labelled as freaks for fiction you don’t like both online and real life. People are not less worthy of basic human decency and empathy solely based on their fictional interests. People should be able to explore fiction however the hell they want without worrying about there being made a call out post on them somewhere. I search Tcoaal on twitter and there’ll always be a bunch of posts with over 10k likes calling all fans annoying weirdos or say it’s an “incest game” even tho it literally isn’t. I will try looking for some Valangel art on tumblr and see some loser use the tag to basically shit on everyone who ships it and lying about the treatment these shippers get while defending Charlastor or just shit on the ship in general. I just exist on the twitter side of the HH fandom chilling with other Val fans and literally every single one of them has either received death/rape threats or told to kill themselves, got ratio’d by a bunch of haters, had a call out post saying not to follow dedicated to them, had their art reposted and Val scribbled out, repeatedly accused of ““romantising a rapist””, or all of the fucking above. Valentino’s VA gets asked if he’s actually like the character he plays in real life or a fan being “relieved that he didn’t abuse them like Valentino” when they met (kudos to Joel for being chill about it btw I would be fuming this fandom does not deserve this man). I type in a certain controversial yttd ship to search and most of the latest posts are just people being rude, saying that if Nankidai makes them canon they’ll drop the game, calling the man himself a freak, calling other shippers freaks, shitting on soushin as well and then having soushiners defend their ship while also shitting on said controversial ship. It genuinely feels like fanbases are circuses and we are the clowns 💀

I could list other examples people being weirdos but I can't do that without breaking the momentum of this post even more than I already have. I guess what I wanted to vent about is how these attitudes regarding fiction and the way people police how others engage with it and how people think of you based on what you like can go from just annoying to downright dangerous more often than you’d think. That belief that you are morally superior to someone else based on the fact that you ship or like things the “legal” and “pure” and “healthy” way (which is never actually the case btw) can lead to you being really disrespectful or a complete asshole and not feeling bad about it at all, which does more harm than good. Which is why I thought it was important to bring up more extreme cases to empathise how this obsessive gatekeeping of fiction can and does hurt real people, who should be more important to you than fictional characters.

All of this is very likely going to sound very aggressive in tone and I want to quickly clarify that this is not meant to be an attack towards anyone in particular. I'm just tired and recalling all this stuff is making my mood sink like a stone lmao. Who knows, maybe I'm just overexaggerating and things won't get worse when the game gets more popular. This is just what I've been witnessing both in and out of my side of the moon. The amount of yttd fans I've seen act like this are a lot tho. No fandom is perfect obviously, and this one is the farthest from it, but with new people coming in and this weird attitude and need to sanitise not only towards soushin, but other "problematic" ships and media as well growing more prominent (mostly on Twitter and Tiktok) my biggest worry is that the hostility in this fandom will just... increase? Roulettefeel made pretty good posts about it-- my favourites being this one, also this one and this one's pretty short and sweet, summarising most of my soushin points a lot better and shorter than my trainwreck of a post so I recommend checking them out. If you like soushin, go check them out. If you don't like soushin, go check them out anyway. They make stuff outside of soushin too. They're pretty cool.

[I also want to add that the whole sanitisation thing in the yttd fandom is nothing new. It’s been a thing for longer than I have been here. I’ve just been seeing it again with soushin, which is was what made me want to do this in the first place. There’s another dynamic the fandom obviously does this for, but uttering it would not only get me flamed but straight up burned at the stake of bad takes so I’m saving that for a rainy day.]

Aaaaannd, I'm done, I think. I didn't have a good conclusion for this in mind. Idk, just be nice? You don't have to like "proships" (or what the fandom has defined as proship cuz that's not the actual definition), but that's what the block buttons for. Don't like, don't read, I say. Fandoms are for everyone and as long as what the person is doing is harmless, let them feel safe being themselves without having to worry about someone coming after them. Real life cops already suck. Let's not bring them into our collective escapism. And something you personally don't like ending up canon doesn't mean the game or ship is "ruined". That doesn't just go for soushin. That goes for other things too. To tie up loose ends, soushin having an age gap or being related has always been on the table and fits with other themes in the narrative. That does not count as "bad" if it makes sense. Soushin is not "Ok to ship" because it's "not an illegal ship" (whatever tf that means) and it's not "bad to ship" because it's "romanticising abuse". It's fine to ship because it's fictional. You don't need a moral justification to ship anything. That goes for all ships. That's why NOTPs exist. And "proship" doesn't and has never meant "shipping problematic pairings". It's a stance on shipping. It means being pro people being allowed to ship whatever they want. That includes being cool with problematic pairings, but is not limited to those. It means not being a fandom cop. Please stop saying otherwise, I cannot keep living this way--

Soooouuu, to end off on a more positive note and finally put this whole thing to bed I'll link some of my fav newer soushin accounts for anyone who's interested:

Hyo (orewagahai on ao3 check that out too): They are an amazing, amazing writer. If you're into dark, abusive co-dependent, complicated soushin with beautiful characterisation I would highly recommend. They just posted another soushin drabble on twitter and it's great.

jinn: They've been putting out banger after banger ever since getting into the game. Their art is absolutely stunning and they upload frequently, so go check 'em out if you can! It's actual medicine for the soul, I promise. They also draw for dead plate, so if you're into that go ahead too.

angel: Also cool. They're soushin art is hilarious and cute. As much of a sucker as I am for toxic, abusive sludge, they give thses two idiots a silliness that I enjoy. Also if you like trans!Shin content they're pretty good.

欣武 (my dumbass forgot to add them the first time sorry): They are INCREDIBLE. Extremely incredible artist. Their art is so, so freaking good. Not checking them out is absolutely your loss, ngl.

Be nice to them. If I catch anyone attempting to annoy them I'm coming after you and your entire family. Let's be better and not chase new comers off this time :3 Thanks for listening to my incoherent venting. This is mostly for me to feel a bit better, but anyone is free to read. If anyone's got an opinion or observation, feel free to offer it. I need coffee. Coffee sounds good.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

[zarvasace]

Description and a bit more info under the cut. 

A series of green, blue, and red graphics using a nice sans serif font and a Zelda display serif font with white and gold as accents. 

First picture. 2024 Linked Universe Fandom AO3 Wrapped, presented by Mina, @zarvasace. (That's me!) 

As a fandom, we wrote 2,273 fics in 2024

That's over 6 a day every day this year! 

In smaller text below: Counting only fics tagged with “Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda)” on AO3. Counting all fics last updated from Jan 1, 2024 to Dec 31, 2024. Data pulled by hand on Jan 1, 2024 at ~2:00 AM GMT-7. 

Next picture. Our favorite tags this year were:

1, Hurt/Comfort with 432 tags

2, Fluff with 352 tags

3, Angst with 335 tags 

4, Not Beta Read with 260 tags. Here there is also a brief exchange in two handwriting styles. One arrow points to this tag with the remark, “perfectionists, much?” Another cursive hand replies “Be nice.” to which the first says, “no”

5, Legend-centric with 251 tags

At the bottom of this image is a piece of parchment. The scratchier handwriting says, “Ha, I'm the favorite. Take that.” and the curlier handwriting replies “Not so fast, Ledge… we aren't done yet.”

Next picture. Favorite tags continued:

6, Blood and Injury with 230 tags

7, Wild-centric with 204 tags 

8, Whump with 215 tags 

9, Emotional Hurt/Comfort with 181 tags

10, Good Older Sibling Warriors with 163 tags. Legend's handwriting says “Din give me strength—” to that. 

Section break, and a bit more: An average of 7.46% fics every month were tagged Whump. Except October, which saw a spike to 29.5%.

Next picture. Our favorite Links. This info is presented in a table, with names on the left and number of tags on the right, organized from most to least. 

Warriors, 1408 (his handwriting says: HA!! I won something!)

Legend, 1398 (his handwriting says: BY TEN.)

Twilight, 1371

Time, 1323

Wild, 1217

Hyrule, 1151

Wind, 1143

Sky, 1137

Four, 1027

At the bottom is another piece of parchment. Legend says: “JUST TEN.” Warriors says: “Jealous?” Legend replies: “I don't know if being the favorite is a good thing.”

Next picture. Our favorite secondary characters were Malon (176 tags) and Racio (160 tags)

Section break. and the most popular pairings were Malon/Time (161 tags), Legend/Racio (89 tags*), Sky/Sun (66 tags).

At the bottom is the asterisk footnote: it's no secret that our fandom tags are a little wonky sometimes. This number adds together the works tagged “Legend (Linked Universe)/Ravio” and “Link/Ravio” where the work was also tagged “Linked Universe,” assuming that people would only tag one. 

Next picture. 2024’s longest fic was: This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja (linked below). 

Editor’s note: linked here!

With a total of 312,547 words. That's almost 971 a day! 

Began July 14, 2023, Finished May 30, 2024. 

Screenshot of the tag summary from AO3, showing a Mature rating, Gen, an archive warning, and complete. 

Significant tags: Time Travel, the Chain as Family, Time Loop, Multiversal Time Travel, Temporal War Crimes, Chain Meets Chain, Chronically Ill Sky, Four Splits Into the Colors, Fairy Hyrule, Hyrule Has a Blood Curse. 

At the bottom, Legend’s writing says: “That sounds like a lot of time travel…”

Next four pictures are a set titled Fandom Trends by month. Each month has, in order, a Popular Link, Popular Duos, Popular Genre, and Unique Tags, along with occasional handwritten commentary. 

January: Twilight. Twilight & Wild. Hurt/Comfort. Crack, Soft Legend. Commentary: Warriors says “aww.” and Legend responds “I'm going to poison your milk.” 

February: Warriors. Twilight & Wild, Twilight & Warriors, Legend & Warriors. Angst. Febuwhump 2024. 

March: Twilight. Twilight & Wild, Time & Twilight. Fluff. One Shot, Linked Universe Discord Server’s 5th Birthday Gift Exchange.

April: Legend. Twilight & Wild, Twilight and Warriors. (Commentary from Legend: “wow Twi”) Fluff. Humor, Canon-Typical Violence.

May: Twilight, Warriors. Hyrule & Legend, Twilight & Wild. (Commentary from Legend, circling Hyrule’s name: “Finally some good taste.”) Fluff. Other Additional Tags to be Added. 

June: Twilight. Twilight & Wild, Time & Warriors. Hurt/Comfort. June of Doom 2024, Sky-centric, Twilight-centric. (Commentary from Warriors: “Wait, doom?! Oh, there's Sky”)

Editor's note: congratulations to @somer-writes who singlehandedly got June of Doom in the top 10 tags of June. :)

July: Warriors. Hyrule & Legend, Time & Twilight. Hurt/Comfort. Twilight-centric. (Commentary from Legend: “leave some for the rest of us”)

August: Legend. Hyrule & Legend, Legend & Warriors, Time & Twilight. Hurt/Comfort. Crack, Fluff and Angst. (Commentary from Warriors: “I'm concerned.”)

September: Legend. Time & Twilight, Twilight & Wild. Hurt/Comfort. Sicktember 2024, Legend Has a Bad Time. (Commentary from Legend: “Excuse me?!” Warriors says: “I suppose your immune system is awful now.” Legend responds with: “ha ha.”)

October: Warriors. Time & Twilight, Time & Warriors. Hurt/Comfort. Whumptober 2024, Warriors Has a Bad Time. (Commentary from Warriors: “oh no…” To which Legend responds: “HAHAHAHAH”) 

November: Warriors. Time & Warriors, Hyrule & Legend. Fluff. Crack, Good Older Sibling Warriors.

December: Legend. Hyrule & Legend, Twilight & Wild, Warriors & Wind. Hurt/Comfort. Families of Choice. 

Parchment at the bottom has Warriors saying, “That's a nice note to end on.” Legend responds, “Not so bad I guess.” 

Thanks for coming along with me on this fun stats journey! It's been a privilege to add to this fandom. 

I thought about adding a section for ratings or prevalence of Gen fics, but I think you can guess that we’re a Gen- and Teen-heavy fandom. You can see my raw data and some more charts over on the Google sheet right at this link. Ha, link. :) 

[demonicbaby666]

The Boiling Point

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst and a dash of smut

Words: 3.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, light smut, one bed trope, a butt loads of sexual tension, fingering (r!recieving), a slight bit of miscommunication/lack of communcation

Summary: Months of friendship, endless banter and sexual tension all lead to one boiling point.

A/n: @prentisssgf this ones for you <3 I hope it'll put a smile on that gorgeous face of yours and lives up to your expectations. Have an amazing birthday doll! Love and kisses xxx

As far as cases went, this one wasn’t so bad. Sure, the team was stretched a little thin, paperwork was piled high, new cases were flooding in, and bureaucracy kept tensions mounted amongst the higher-ups, but every cloud had a silver lining. You found yours on a Wednesday, around midday, walking into Hotch’s office with Emily at your side, having both been summoned. 

“I’m sending you two. I need the rest of the team here.” 

A two-person unit would leave you with a load of groundwork: liaising with local authorities, checking out the crime scene, heading to the coroners and ordinarily, that would have overwhelmed you had it not been for the fact you’d have Emily by your side the entire time. Emily, who was now shifting her weight from foot to foot, fidgeting with the loose skin around her nails as she bit the inside of her cheek. 

You nudged her, ascertaining from Hotch’s stare he was scrutinising her every move. She straightened her spine and puffed her chest, giving your boss a solid nod as she awaited further instructions. 

“You can take the jet. No detours, though,” he said with a smirk, giving the pair of you a once over before bringing his attention back to the paperwork littering the oak desk. “Now get moving. Garcia will fill you in on the details.” 

“Damn. I was hoping for a pit stop in Vegas, a quick game of poker, maybe even a couple goes on the slot machines.” You received a blank stare from Hotch and honestly, given the state of affairs running a muck through the BAU, you couldn’t blame him for not entertaining your fruitless attempts at comedy. “Jet. No detours. Garcia will fill us in. Got it.” 

And with that, you made to leave the room, trying to tame the rosy tinge of embarrassment burning over your cheeks. For the sake of propriety, you waited till you were out of sight in the elevator, on the way down to the car park, to elbow Emily right in the ribs. 

“What was that for?!” She cried, holding her side. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see your smug ass smirk on the way out,” You groaned. “I made a tit out of myself, and you thought it appropriate to bask in my misery.” 

“For a profiler, I thought you’d read a room better,” Emily laughed, walking out of the steel death trap and into the parking lot, pulling out car keys. 

“Says the woman who was smiling like an idiot at the prospect of having me all to yourself for a couple of days.” 

She stopped in her tracks, “Got a problem with that?” 

Did you have a problem with an attractive co-worker turned friend relishing your one-on-one company? No. Did you beam at the opportunity of having her alone, knowing you’d be able to let your affections run free to a certain extent? Yes. But did Emily’s ego need to know that? Hell no. 

It took a couple more steps to realise Emily wasn’t following. Though you were eager to get going, you deeply regretted turning to usher her towards the car. It was her stance that knocked you off kilter. Her folded arms, hip slung to the side, and arched brow made it an outward struggle to remain upright. Had her legs always been that long? 

“As smooth as cases go with you and I working together, I can’t say I’m not feeling the slightest bit put out by the thought of having to do a majority of the heavy lifting.” Emily didn’t seem convinced, her eyes squinting as she picked apart truth from lie. Her glare stretched out for too long, and you were beginning to wither under it; the spark of curiosity that drove her to excel at her job was bright and unyielding, threatening never to let go of this subject matter until she got the answers she wanted. You couldn't have that. 

You walked towards her, hiding your fear behind a mask of false confidence. The scales were unbalanced, Emily reigning supreme with her brazen approach to the underlying sexual tension that plagued your friendship and you drowning in it—that required change. 

With each step forward, Emily took one back till her eyes were wide and her back pressed against the car park wall, and she had nowhere to go. You took victory in the shiver that racked through the brunette, relishing the delicious taste of her withheld breaths skating across your skin. The look of disbelief she wore grew louder when your hands bracketed her shoulders, palms flat against textured concrete. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, breathy and fidgety. You couldn't help but let your eyes drop to the rise and fall of her chest, to her bobbing throat. 

Dropping one hand to her cheek, you drew her lips open with your thumb, “Taking what’s mine.” 

After a few hurried blinks, Emily’s eyes closed, her breath stilled, and you struck. You used the hand, keeping you steadily leaning over Emily to push yourself away. At the exact same moment, you reached down and plucked the forgotten keys from between her fingers. 

“I want to drive,” you said, turning and walking towards the car with the biggest shit-eating grin plastered across your face. 

Emily’s steps were laden with the force of a thousand stampedes as she stormed after you. Unsurprisingly, she caught up with you quickly, but not quickly enough. By the time she reached the car, you had already clambered behind the wheel and had the engine started. From the corner of your eyes, you observed the difference in Emily’s demeanour. Outrage had burned her cheeks red. Her breathing was steady, but you could see how focused she was on maintaining it as she flicked invisible dust particles off her blazer. 

“You’re a little shit,” she muttered. 

“Like calls like and all that.” 

When you reached the runway, Emily was back to her old self–shooting off teasing remarks about your driving and keeping close to your side as you made your way to the jet. 

“Do you know how many road violations I counted?” she asked, sitting beside you and setting up her laptop. Garcia was due to call any minute. “There's nothing wrong with being a passenger princess. Honesty, I think it’d suit you.” 

“You sure know how to compliment a girl.” You rolled your eyes and pulled out two case files from your bag, dumping them on the table and flipping one open. 

“You should see what I can do in bed.” 

Judging by how fast you snapped your neck, you wouldn’t be surprised to wake up the following day to discover a muscle tear. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, ready to rip a hole right through Emily’s self-satisfied smirk. However, before you could reinstate yourself as the reigning champion of inappropriate workplace flirting, a shrill chime tore through the weighted silence. 

Emily looked so pleased with herself. It killed you to have missed the opportunity to knock her down a few pegs. 

“Saved by the bell,” she hummed, accepting Garcia’s call. 

It wasn’t a long debrief by any means. Garcia divvied information on the victims and their histories between a rundown of each crime scene and any other bits of digital data she’d acquired that would aid the case. It went on for ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Work began at the drop of the call, you and Emily scribbling down notes, batting theories to and from each other till you’d weaned down the profile from anyone to the standard white male between the ages of thirty and forty—surprise. Miles high from where the bulk of your work would take place, you and Emily had exhausted every avenue you could. After half an hour of back and forths and meticulous reviews of each victim, of which there were thankfully only two, you gave into idle chatter and then comfortable quiet. 

The jet looked different without all its occupants. It still held its comfort, forever the resting place after a long couple of days, but the barren landscape remained off-putting enough for you to seek solace on the lonely couch. A trusty book in hand to pry your racing mind away from the stress of your job. 

“Mind if I join you?” 

Emily hovered over you, one hand empty and gesturing to the unoccupied space beside you and the other holding her current read. She had her finger wedged within the pages, keeping her place as she waited patiently for your answer. 

“Sure,” you smiled softly, scooching to the side. 

Paragraph by paragraph, the space between you and Emily was eaten up. By the closing of your chapter, your thighs were side by side, and the older woman had somehow managed to sling an arm over the back of the sofa without your notice, mindlessly twirling with the ends of your hair around her fingers. 

“Sorry.” Emily began to pull her arm away, but you held her still. 

“Don’t be.” You brought her arm back down, looping it over your shoulder as you rested your book on your lap. “I could do with resting my eyes, and the pillows aren’t nearly as comfortable as you.” 

“Well then,” Emily began, a sure smile lining her lips, “I’m all yours.” 

Once you’d shuffled around a bit, tucking your legs underneath you and leaning further into Emily, you settled your head down on her shoulder, snuggling into the familiar scent of her herbal shampoo. Emily’s hand slowly migrated down to your waist, where she pulled you closer and held you tighter. 

“Emily?” 

“Mmm?” she replied, her eyes still on the book she’d impressively managed to keep open with just one hand. 

“Could you read out loud?” Your request was met with the turn of Emily’s head and the soft crease of her brows as she gazed down at you nestled in the space between her neck and shoulder. You’d seen her angry, you’d seen her sad, you’d seen her happy, but whatever this was, you’d never seen. The afternoon sun had chosen her milky skin as its subject, a canvas to paint its balmy glow over. Her eyes were lighter under its yellow and orange hue, making it oh so easy to get lost in the space where her chocolate irises met the blacks of her pupils. 

She looked beautiful like this. She looked at ease. 

“Of course.” 

—

You roused to quiet, Emily’s lilt no longer warming your ears with its eloquence and clarity. She didn’t even seem to be reading anymore. Her book closed and placed on the armrest as she watched clouds fly by. She did not jump, freeze or move at all when you spoke. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, rubbing your eyes and quietly beaming at how sleep had shifted your knees to rest over Emily’s lap. The position felt remarkably close to cuddling. 

“I’m trying to figure something out,” she started, eyes filled with mirth as she turned to look at you. There was movement along your waist–Emily’s hand gliding up and down, intermittently pausing to trace circles into the intercostal space between your ribs. She’d have had to be blind to miss your throat bobbing as you swallowed a shiver. 

“Go on…” you prompted. 

“I don't understand how something so cute and tiny, especially when sleeping, can cause such a ruckus.” She bit her lip at the mix of horror and mortification donning your face, waiting to deliver the punchline. “You snore.” Oh, she looked so fucking proud of herself. 

“I do not!” 

“At first, I thought something was up with the jet, but then I realised you were practically vibrating next to me. Seriously, you should get your sinuses checked.”

“Now I know you're taking the piss.”

A great bark of laughter tore from her chest, and you hadn’t a clue what to do with yourself. On the one hand, you wanted to punch her, and on the other, you were enthralled with the sweet melody of her joy, desperate to hear it for whatever duration was left of your flight. 

“If I weren't so comfy, I’d slap you,” you groaned, relaxing your muscles against the warmth of Emily’s side. “How long till we land?” 

“Not long, twenty minutes maybe.” She brought her free hand to your face, brushing past your cheek and reaching for the strands of hair that had fallen loose in your slumber. “We’ll head straight to the latest crime scene. The media have already caught wind of the murders, so we’ll have to keep them at bay with a statement.” She listed off your itinerary, tucking your hair back in place behind your ear. “I’ll ask JJ to handle that remotely once we know more. Then, we can head to the precinct and talk to the victims’ families. You take one, I'll take the other.” 

“Sounds good,” you nodded wistfully, taking Emily’s hand into your lap, trailing your finger over the lines marking her palm. 

Emily’s plan was carried out—first, the sweeping of the crime scene and the reiteration of JJ’s statement to the cluster of rowdy journalists and news correspondents. Then, at the station, you spoke briefly with the police chief, gathering characteristic information about the families you were due to meet. It always helped to have a measure of knowledge regarding the personalities you would encounter. 

When the sun drew its last breath over the skyline, you and Emily agreed it was time to call it a day. Hotch sent the address to a nearby hotel, letting you know everything had been handled, and all you had to do was give your name to whoever was working the front desk. So, for the life of you, you couldn't understand how you’d found yourself in heated discussion, or rather argument with the hotel receptionist. 

“There must be some mix-up,” you moaned. Emily was standing by you, uncharacteristically quiet and of no help. Her focus appeared to be on her phone as her fingers clattered over the digital keyboard with scary determination. 

“I’ll sort this out,” Emily said frostily. Bringing her phone to her ear, she walked away. 

As you stood in the hotel lobby, left a little out of sorts by the unresolved problem of your nightly stay, you could see Emily pacing the length of the room, back and forth and back and forth, nose flared, jaw clenched, and words sharp. You tried not to overthink her anger, how the thought of sharing a room with you brought about so much outrage. Was it that abhorrent to share the same space as you for a single night? 

By the time Emily returned, she looked defeated. She barely acknowledged you before setting her wrath upon the guilty-looking clerk. 

“Surely not every room is booked for tonight,” she sighed, impatiently drumming her fingers on the marbled desk surface. 

The click and clack of a keyboard filled the awkward silence. 

“Unless you’re willing to take the honeymoon suite, we unfortunately have no other rooms free tonight.” The undeniable proof of the woman’s statement came with the turn of the computer screen. Everything was red except one column. Emily’s eyes bulged at the collection of numbers gathered at its side. 

Enough was enough. You weren’t about to let her pay an obscene amount of money just because she couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping with you. She’d have to suck it up. 

“It’s fine,” you whispered, struggling to find conviction in your statement under the sudden attention of Emily and the receptionist. “We’ll be fine sharing.” 

—

The hotel, for all its expensive charm, was quaint. The floor was carpeted and looked freshly cleaned, the bedding was crisp and neat over the queen-sized bed, and adjacent was an open door leading to what you assumed would be the bathroom. Once you’d set your bag down, you ignored Emily, too caught up in your disdain for the woman’s callousness to even look at her. She likely had disgust written all over her face, surveying the bed. 

You took out your sleepwear, plucked a neatly folded towel off the foot of the bed, and stormed into the bathroom. 

When the first spray of water hit, you wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. How had you been so stupid? The flirting, the underlying sexual tension–had it all been a wicked trick played by your mind? Did the months spent waiting for the right moment all lead down to this? The boiling point where everything fizzled into nothing but humiliating recognition. 

A single tear fell down the drain, followed shortly by another and another. Soon, it was hard to pick apart the onslaught of tears from the water soaking your hair and rolling down your face. Behind your closed eyes, a movie montage of scattered memories began to roll. You and Emily nestled close together on your couch in the thralls of heated banter. You and Emily patching each other up, reprimanding foolish decisions with teasing remarks and antiseptic solution. You and Emily nestled in your own corner of the jet, dozing off to the drone of Spencer’s ramblings. 

When you stepped out of the shower, the mirror painted a sore sight. Reflected in front of you were your puffy eyes, blotchy skin and one glum frown. You could chalk the redness to your face and the swell around your eyes to the sweltering shower. Your sorrowful expression, however, you’d have to fix.

Sighing, you brushed your teeth and splashed some icy water over your face, taking a deep inhale and deeper exhale before exiting the safe haven of the bathroom. 

Emily stood outside, waiting. 

“Somethings wrong.”

“With the case?” you asked, brushing past her to shove your clothes through the open zipper of your bag. 

She followed you to the edge of the bed, hovering at your side with a pointed stare. “No.” 

“There’s a lot of things wrong,” you huffed, dumping your black duffel on the floor with a thud. “You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Something’s wrong with you.” 

You stood motionless for a brief second, letting the words register. “Excuse me?” you gaped, swivelling your body to glare at Emily. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it’s not.” 

“No, no,” you seethed. “Please, go on. Tell me what’s so wrong with me. Spare no detail. I want specifics.” 

“You know what?” Emily shook her head, her humourless smile striking a skittish nerve in you. “I’m going to freshen up. By the time I finish, maybe you’ll have matured and learned to use your big girl words.” And with that, she grabbed her bag and towel, shooting you a disappointed scowl as she slammed and locked the bathroom door. 

When she did return, you were in the midst of trying to get comfortable. Sensing by your lack of eye contact, you were no more ready to hash things out than you were before Emily drew in a long breath, flicked the lights off and circled the bed, settling in beside you. 

Rest didn’t come easy, or at all. It was impossible to stay in one spot. The smell of Emily’s shampoo and body wash made it impossible to ignore her presence, and on top of that, every time you shut your eyes, an echo of your argument haunted you. 

“Are you going to toss and turn all night?” Emily groaned. 

In a flurry of movement, the brunette flipped over, facing you head-on as her hands gripped your hips to hold you still. 

“I can’t sleep,” you bit out, trying to wriggle out of her hold. When that didn’t work, you brought your hands to her chest and applied light pressure. Emily’s grip tightened. 

“I gathered that much.” As if holding you hostage wasn’t enough, Emily tugged your body closer, intent on turning this nightmare into a living hell. “What would help is talking to me about what’s got you so pent up instead of sulking and flailing about like a toddler mid-tantrum.” 

“You suck.” 

“So you’re taking the toddler thing to heart then.” Amusement danced in her eyes, and a flicker of a smile ghosted across her lips. 

“Why did sharing a room with me bother you so much?” you mumbled. 

Emily almost looked shocked. Disbelief cut a crease in the space between her brows. “It didn’t.” 

You rolled your eyes and attempted to wriggle out of Emily’s grasp, again failing. 

“I thought it bothered you, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. That’s why I was trying to sort out another room,” Emily explained, her smile never faltering as she brought her fingers up to your chin, thumb brushing the underside of your lip. 

“Oh.” 

“Sweetheart,” she drawled, her timbre low and husky, “all I’ve wanted these last few months was a chance to have you alone in bed.” 

Oh.

The room was engulfed in silence. Slowly, everything became a blurred backdrop as your sole focus remained on Emily. Behind her, the moon shone through the window, bathing her hair in a soft silvery glow. It was loosely tied into a low ponytail and a shade darker than usual, the dampness of the shower still clinging to the thickest locks. Despite her face being skulked in shadows, offering you only the slightest glimpse of chestnut eyes and ivory skin, you could see her clear as day, the contours of her face forever ingrained in your mind's eye. 

Months of pent-up tension crackled low in the suspended space between your bodies. You tried to move your tense muscles, coaxing them into seeing this was the time for action. They remained frozen.

In the end, it was Emily who made the first move.

You felt her draw closer, holding your breath for fear that one more pull of oxygen might break you out of this dreamlike scenario. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she whispered before the press of her lips engulfed all your senses. 

As it turned out, Emily’s shameless brags regarding her bedside manner were not untrue. In the small pocket of time it took her to undress you both, she’d managed to turn you into a wry mess of ardent need. She teased and teased till you forced your pride aside and begged her to slot her fingers inside you. To which she did without question. 

Moving her fingers in and out, Emily brushed her thumb against the thousands of nerve endings, all condensed into one tiny button hidden at the apex of your sex. She worked your clit between her fingers, each drag up and down, sending a delicious thrill down your spine. Every thrust of her digits marked the spot of rough flesh burrowed within your pussy; expert precision ensuring it never remained untouched for too long. 

Pleasure coursed hot through your veins, unyielding in its mission to draw you to your impending release. Mammoth waves of satisfaction rolled up and down your body, contorting limbs till your back arched and your chest pressed against Emily’s bare breasts. She didn’t stop when you moaned through the duration of your peak, pummeling her fingers into the convulsing grasp of your cunt till you were crying out and shaking from overstimulation. 

“Fuck,” you sighed dreamily, the last sparks of your orgasm still very present in the tingling of your legs. 

Emily settled on her back beside you, squeezing an arm under your waist and pulling you close. “Bet you’re glad I didn’t break the bank on that honeymoon suite now,” she smirked. 

“You have no idea,” you chuckled.

Resting your head over her breastbone and listening to the steady drum of her heart, you let sleep lull your eyes shut. 

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @kenyakimble34 @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @taylorswiftsboyfriend @bossofcriminalminds @asphodelvamp @jareguiromanoff @lilfartbox1 @lovelyy-moonlight @patronagrona @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @paulilvsremus @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @homo-oddity @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @girloversstuff @ratsnestinmyhair @propertyofemilyprentiss @chloeelou02x @gayestswiftie @waitaminuteashh @chestnutninny @evelinearmani @luv-unknwn @lesbodietcoke @schemmentisbaby @xenafan25 @frickinsleepdeprived @greyslover3004 @snowdrop1026 | click here to be added to my taglist

[benevolentbones]

coffee | spencer reid x reader

warnings: ??mild flirting, spencer checking you out?? gender neutral

word count: 0.7ish

summary: you meet spencer for the first time while he gets his morning coffee.

!!this is my first time writing for this fandom,, and first time writing in over a year so i may be rusty!!

it was a known fact that spencer reid was practically fuelled by coffee, and this morning was no exception. spencer had been up all night reading case files and finishing off his paperwork from the last case, which usually didn’t take the man too long, but his mind had been elsewhere for the last few days.

it had come to his attention, when the team returned from their last case, that the bau had hired a new receptionist. and usually he wasn’t too fussed about newcomers that weren’t directly associated with his team, but something about you was different.

he first noticed you standing in the kitchenette of the bullpen, with penelope. the blonde woman had you engrossed in one of her rambles about one of the fantasy games she often played in her downtime.

you stood beside her, a blue mug that read ‘worlds best dad’ glued in your grasp as you listened intently. you nodded along to everything garcia was saying, wisps of your neat hair falling out of place, which you quickly tucked behind your ears.

spencer noticed you wore a dark button up, which you had rolled up to your elbows. along with a nice fitting pair of dress pants, his hazel eyes lingering on the curve of your hips a little longer than intended.

he blinked himself out of his trance, ambling over to the coffee maker which conveniently was right beside you.

“-and when you level up, you get the ability to enchant your armour, and y’know your girl had to get some-“ garcia continued to rant as spencer picked up a cup and turned the machine on.

“hey reid have you met our newest member?” penelope beamed, turning to face the brunette who began to pour the worlds worst filter coffee into his cup.

his hazel eyes darted up from what he was doing and met yours. you had turned now fully to face him, garcia standing to your left.

“hi” you smiled sweetly at him, brushing your thumbs over the ceramic of your cup.

spencer felt his face flush warm for a second, the man spluttered out a ‘nice to meet you’ before turning his attention back to his coffee.

penelope hummed, knowing that was probably the best introduction he was going to get.

“well i’ve got to get back- lots of hacking to do.” garcia shot you a smile and darted off in the direction of her office.

you couldn’t help but stare as you watched the man begin to pour a mountain of sugar into his cup, every time you thought he would stop he tilted the container more, to further dump the sweet substance into his beverage.

before you could even think, words had slipped past your lips. “do you want some coffee with your sugar, dr.reid?”

you immediately pursed your lips shut, afraid that maybe joking around was too forward after having only met the man a minute prior.

you noticed a small smile grace his features as he stopped pouring the sugar, reaching for a spoon to stir it together.

“actually it’s not uncommon for people to take their coffee this way, around 65% of the US add sugar and/or cream to their coffee.” he mumbled out, taking a sip and making eye contact with you.

“y’know what, i won’t argue with that.” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

spencer eyed your form, his cheeks growing warm.

“let me guess…you take yours black?” he mused, noting little details about how you crossed your legs when you stood or how you chewed on your lower lip after saying something.

you trailed your gaze along his suit clad form, his striped shirt was fully buttoned with a black tie to compliment it. he wore a dark grey pair of chinos, standing with one hand in the left pocket as he took another sip from his cup, his focus never leaving you, hazel eyes studying you through thick rimmed glasses.

“you guessed right dr.reid, i’m already sweet enough.” you gave him a small smile before walking back to your desk.

[mariyekos]

I don't mean to burst your bubble, but that's probably just what the game says for enemies that can't be Assessed!

Ex, one of the ending enemies in the Remake that can be partially read):

Ex. 2: An enemy that can be fully read:

And Sephiroth himself (Remake):

SHUT UP

SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!!!

SEPHIROTH CANT READ!!! I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS OMFG!!!

shinra/hojo probably just never thought it was necessary to teach him to read, or probably teach him anything really, other than how to fight and be the perfect soldier, because he was conceived and born as nothing more than a test subject… and why would the lab rat weapon need to learn basic things like how to read…

this also just makes me think, since he canonically has to be able to read, at least enough to have been able to read all the stuff in the shinra manor basement, that he probably learned to read through simply watching others and needing to put the pieces together to figure it out for himself and through relying on other people (like his friends) teaching him at least the basics, though he still was never properly taught so he’s not very good at reading

plus this is such a wild place for them to actually just straight up state that sephiroth cant read? like its in the boss details segment in the event which i feel like is so easy to miss for most people? plus its not like it’s actually battle stats or anything… just the confirmation he cant read…

[captainsophiestark]

A New Man

Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Colin has had feelings for his best friend for some time now, and has decided his new skills in charm and flirting are the perfect way to win her over. He is unfortunately very mistaken.

Word Count: 4,713

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"This is by far the best part of these society events," mused Benedict, one of my best friends, as the two of us perused the dessert table. "Sometimes it even makes putting up with all the marauding mamas worth it."

I laughed and picked up a delious looking cupcake.

"The mamas must be truly terrible this season if the food only sometimes makes them worth putting up with."

Benedict sighed. "You have no idea."

I nudged him with my shoulder, smiling as we stepped away from the dessert table together.

"Well, you have no need to worry, Benedict. As long as I am unattached, I am more than happy to act as a shield for you, especially when society dictates you must find a partner and dance."

"Thank you. You are a true friend. I know I can always count on-"

"Colin!" I turned to grin sheepishly at Benedict in the wake of my outburst and found him staring at me with a mocking, raised eyebrow. But I couldn't quite bring myself to care, since I'd just seen my absolute best friend in the world, Colin Bridgerton, standing across the lawn chatting with a group of ladies.

He'd left England this summer for another lengthy international trip, and I'd missed him terribly while he'd been gone. He looked different now, too, a little more sure of himself and wearing a style that had clearly come from somewhere on the continent rather than from here. And if my heart raced a little at the sight of him, well, that could easily be chalked up to excitement at the prospect of seeing a friend. I couldn't keep a smile off my face at the sight of him, even as I turned back to Benedict and found him with crossed arms and doubly raised eyebrows.

"When were you going to tell me that Colin had returned?" I demanded, completely ignoring Benedict's judgey look and barely managing to keep my voice at a socially acceptable level. Benedict just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It is why I came over here in the first place, but then you distracted me with talks of friendship and cupcakes. And now I see it was all a lie, as you are clearly about to abandon me to the whims of this social event to go rush over and talk to my brother."

"Sorry, Benedict," I said, giving him a grin. "But I saw you throughout the summer. It has been much too long since I last saw Colin, so he takes precedence for the day. But I promise you I will come to your aid if you find yourself cornered by the mamas, or any other dangerous creature roaming the society grounds."

Benedict snorted, but I didn't give him the opportunity for a comeback as I turned back to Colin and walked quickly across the gravel paths, the smile growing on my face the closer I got to him. He didn't notice me as I approached, wrapped up in conversation with the handful of ladies in front of him, and my smile grew even more at the thought of his face when he finally caugh sight of me.

"...will be fighting over you," I heard Colin saying as I walked up to join the group. "I cannot compete."

All the ladies in the circle giggled, giving me perfect cover for my smile as I came to a stop in front of Colin. He turned to face me, a beaming smile on his face, then froze a bit as his eyebrows shot up when he realized who I was.

"Lady Y/L/N!" he said, the shock melting back into his charming smile. "What a pleasure it is to have you join us."

"Mister Bridgerton, what a pleasure it is to have you back in England with us."

Colin dipped his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a roguish smile before he returned his gaze to me.

"Believe me, Lady Y/L/N, the pleasure here is all mine."

Rather than the earnest excitement I'd been expecting, Colin's demeanor and voice dripped with a slick charm I didn't recognize. I'd been expecting his usual earnest, genuine emotion, not... this. I gave Colin a little frown of confusion, but quickly let my expression return to normal as he returned to addressing our entire group. He had an energy about him that I couldn't quite place, but it was much different than the Colin I'd gotten to know so well before he left. Still, we were in public. Neither of us were allowed to be anywhere near as effusive and close as we would've been in a more private setting.

"We were just discussing the season," Colin said, including me seamlessly in the conversation I'd joined between him and the other ladies. "Truly, it is amazing to me that all of your dance cards are not already full of suitors."

All the ladies around me giggled, hiding behind their fans and fluttering their eyelashes at Colin. I just stared at him, letting my brow furrow again as I watched my friend. He met my eyes, a smooth smile on his face and his eyes roaming me with an interest and flirtation they'd never had before. If Colin had looked at me like that when I'd last seen him, my heart would've started doing backflips. But his new demeanor made the gesture seem much less sincere, and much more shallow. I let my frown deepen.

"So..." I started, trying to clear the air of whatever strange energy seemed to be lurking here. "Mister Bridgerton, tell us of your travels. You sent so few letters this time, I have simply been dying to hear about everything you saw and did."

Colin flashed me a brilliant smile that didn't totally reach his eyes.

"This time, my stories from abroad are not suitable for such tender young ladies." Everyone around us giggled into their fans again, but Colin's eyes never left mine. "Were I to tell you even the tiniest adventure, well... I'd be forced to marry you."

He delivered the final few words with dramatic flourish, as if expecting for them to have some groundshaking impact. And with the way he stared at me with a simmering gaze, the words clearly intended to make every lady in earshoot swoon, he accomplished his goal. I couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, which I quickly hid as a cough behind my fan.

Colin looked shocked when I glanced up at him, but I still couldn't keep another laugh from bubbling up. He was being so ridiculous, so arrogant and flirting with everyone in sight like he was God's gift to the women of England, and I truly couldn't take him seriously this way.

I cleared my throat and straightened back up, keeping it together just enough as I faced Colin and the other ladies, giving each of them a shallow curtsey.

"Forgive me. I think... something in the air, it must have gotten to me. Excuse me, please."

With that, I turned on my heel and didn't look back. I walked quickly across the garden, seeking out and immediately finding Benedict among the crowd once again, hovering by some shrubbery in an attempt to hide from the ladies and their mothers. I sped up to reach him, the giggling smile returning to my face as I approached.

Benedict must've heard me coming, because at the sound of laughter in a semi-high pitched register he turned on his heel and started moving in the other direction without looking to see the origin of the sound. I walked faster, until I was close enough to call out to him without drawing undue attention.

"Relax, Benedict, it's just me!"

His shoulders slumped as he stopped and turned to face me, relief written in every line of his face. After a moment, however, his expression changed to one of confusion.

"What are you doing back here so soon?" he asked. "I thought you would spend at least the next hour with Colin, catching up on all his travels and making every eligible lady here incredibly jealous of the two of you."

"Well, I planned to catch up with him, but... Benedict, you will never believe what he said." Benedict raised an eyebrow, so I glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then took a step forward and lowered my voice all the same. Laughing about Colin with his brother was one thing, but I didn't want anyone in the rest of the Ton talking behind his back. "He said he couldn't possibly tell me his stories from abroad, because they weren't 'suitable for tender young ladies'."

Benedict scoffed. "Truly?"

"Truly! Benedict, he's come back from abroad strutting around like some peacock, as though he is God's gift to eligible young women everywhere. You know I love him, as you do, but... I cannot take him seriously with his new attitude. I do not think I could if I tried."

Benedict smiled and shook his head, staring over my shoulder, presumably at Colin. Then he turned back to me.

"Did he seem to be directing his newfound charm at anyone in particular?"

I frowned. "No, not that I noticed. It seemed to be more like buckshot, just aiming with broad strokes at everyone in range. Why? Are you joining the side of the mamas in trying to help your brother find a match?"

"No," Benedict sighed, sounding truly tired. "Simply trying to guague exactly how long I may have left before I am the only eligible Bridgerton son for the mamas to focus on."

I laughed. "Do not worry, Benedict. I think you have some time yet."

Benedict didn't respond, but I thought I heard him mumble something into his drink that sounded like, "we'll see". When I raised an eyebrow at him and prepared a question, however, he quickly changed the subject, and I let him. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon together, hiding out from societal obligations and occasionally laughing about how strange his siblings could be sometimes.

After the garden party, I didn't get much of a chance to speak with Colin again until Lady Danbury's ball. He'd approached me once or twice when we'd seen each other in passing at other events, but we'd always been interrupted by other ladies, and Colin seemed suddenly incapable of interacting with me without his base layer of extreme, over the top charm. I would've felt bad for how little time I'd spent with him since he'd returned home, but every time I'd tried to ask him about his travels or how he was doing, he turned it into a truly ridiculous line of flirting, the likes of which we used to make fun of other suitors for before his most recent summer travels.

As a result, when Lady Danbury's ball rolled around, I didn't seek Colin out the way I would've last season. Instead, I found Eloise, Benedict, and even Francesca for a while when she clearly needed a break from her first season out in society. I danced with a few of the men who were tolerable, and otherwise enjoyed my time at the refreshments table and talking to people I knew. Colin didn't seek me out for the first half of the ball, either, so when I heard a familiar voice trying to get my attention after I'd found a spot along the wall for a bit of a break from the rest of the party, it was more of a surprise than it should've been.

"Y/N."

I turned around with a smile to find Colin standing behind me, a grin on his own face. We were out of earshot of the rest of the party, so we could dispense with some of the titles and formality that had lost all meaning between us long ago.

"Colin, hello! I was beginning to think I might not see you at all during this ball, such your other engagements seemed to be."

"Well, I could never let my other engagements prevent me from conversing with the most beautiful woman at this ball, could I?"

He said it with an easy smile and a charming sincerity, but I'd seen him use the same attitude and similar words on enough other ladies in our few interactions this season that his words didn't work to sway me the way they seemed to sway others. My smile slipped, and I fought to hold back a sigh.

"Yes, well..."

Colin smiled at me for another moment, and when I didn't pick up the conversation, he gave an easy chuckle and fixed me with another roguish grin.

"As delighted as I am for any opportunity to spend time with you, my lady, I did come over here to ask you if you might do me the honor of a dance. I truly cannot think of a partner I would rather have than you."

I fought a grimace, barely managing to turn it into a polite smile. I looked around briefly to make sure we were still out of earshot of any other party-goers or servants, which we were. I turned back to Colin with a sigh.

"Colin... I am going to tell you this because I truly care about you, although that may not seem to be my motivation at first glance."

"...Alright," said Colin, blinking a few times and trying to hide any confusion with another easy smile. I took a deep breath.

"I do not wish to dance with you." The smile dropped off Colin's face and his eyebrows knit together as I continued. "I never thought I would say such a thing, as quite often dancing and laughing with you were the only things that made attending society events bearable. But ever since you've returned home from your trip, Colin... it has been nearly impossible to talk to you.

"The man I thought I knew, my friend, whom I deeply cared about and whom I could talk to about anything, seems to have gone. And in his place I have found a Colin Bridgerton who not only flirts with anything that moves, but who does so in a way that is incredibly condescending and impossible to have a meaningful conversation with. Your letters from your previous travels were wonderful, Colin, and when you returned we were able to discuss them at length. You know I have an interest in learning and the world at large, and yet now, whenever I bring the subject up, I am told I could not possibly handle hearing about the things you saw and did, since I am but a fragile woman. Your sincerety and genuine expression of yourself has become cloaked in an oily layer of false sentiment and charm, directed equally at everyone you speak to, no matter your relation to them or your true feelings. I have no idea what brought about this change in you, Colin, but I am sorry to say I do not enjoy it the way the rest of the ladies here seem to."

Colin just stared at me, blinking and gaping like a fish. I frowned, feeling a big guilty, but lying to him would serve no purpose for either of us. Still, he was my friend, and I did care about him regardless of his recent changes. Choosing to ignore society for a brief moment, I put my hand out and rested it gently on his arm.

"Do not mistake my words as an insult designed to hurt you, Colin. You are my friend, and always will be. I have simply... found it harder to be around the person you have become recently. I am truly happy for you and your newfound confidence, but it seems to have extended a bit beyond confidence and into something more challenging, especially with ladies. Even ones you've known as long as you've known me."

I gave him a tight smile, which he seemed too stunned to return. I gave him a moment, but when he still didn't seem capable of a response, I curtsied and took a few steps backwards.

"Well. I will... take my leave. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ball."

Colin just watched me as I took another few steps backwards. Finally, I turned on my heel and walked away. I wasn't sure how I'd been expecting him to take my statement, but complete speechlessness certainly hadn't been my prediction. I could only hope I hadn't wounded him too badly, and that he might come around enough to be the man I remembered as my friend and confidant, who could discuss the world with me as an equal and laugh with me through anything.

Thankfully, no one at the ball seemed to have noticed our exchange. Colin kept his distance from me for the rest of the evening, although I did notive him staring in my direction once or twice.

I debated finding Benedict to ask him his opinion about what I'd said to Colin, and how Colin might be feeling, but eventually decided against it. No matter how true my words had been, or how I'd tried to keep them from sounding harsh or designed to hurt, Colin would likely need his space for a time while he processed. And sending his brother in as my proxy would be the opposite of giving Colin space.

I expected Colin to keep his distance from me for a few days at least, if not for much, much longer. But as I took my seat in the sitting room of my family home the next morning for the start of the calling hours, I turned out to be quite incorrect. Before the clock had finished chiming to mark the start of the first hour, none other than Colin Bridgerton came striding through the door, ahead of the butler who normally would have announced him.

"Lady Y/N," he said, bowing to me and then to my mother sitting on the couch next to me. "I have come to call on you, if you are willing to entertain my company."

He still walked and spoke with confidence, but the layer of charm that had honeyed his words since the first day he'd returned for the season was gone, replaced by a directness and frankness that felt like taking a breath of fresh air. I gave him a small smile.

"I would be more than happy to have your company, Mister Bridgerton."

Colin gave me a small smile in return, and the two of us moved to the other end of the room, still able to be chaperoned but out of immediate earshot. I settled into the couch, Colin sitting right beside me.

"Y/N... thank you for being willing to speak to me. I had to see you, to apologize... and to explain."

My eyebrows shot up. Now that we were sitting closer together, I noticed a few irregularities in Colin's appearance. He had a few shadows under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept well, and his hair wasn't as neatly quaffed as I was used to seeing it. His shirt was rumpled in a few places a maid or a butler or a hovering older sibling might've insisted on fixing if they could've, and although Colin's new confidence appeared to be mostly intact, the charm had been replaced with a nervous energy I'd hardly ever seen from him.

"Colin... are you quite alright?" I asked, leaning a bit closer to him as I studied his face. When I looked up to meet his eyes, I found them instead scanning my face, until he apparenlty snapped out of it and met my gaze. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Yes. Well, no. Perhaps. I am not sure, I think my wellbeing may depend a bit on the outcome of this conversation."

"Colin, before you begin, if I was too harsh on you the other night then I must apologize-"

"No! No. You were not." He took another fortifying breath, closing his eyes for a moment and dropping his shoulders from where they'd been creeping closer to his ears, before meeting my eyes again. "I have been quite different since I came home. I found myself while I was away from society, in a way I have never felt able to do here. But... I also learned the kind of charm that most of the Ton enjoys. It worked so well from the moment I got back, I did not think much of it. But I should have. And I am sorry if our relationship suffered as a result of my attitude."

Colin paused to take a deep breath, and I took the opening to reach out and rest my hand on his forearm.

"Colin, you do not-"

"Y/N, please. Please allow me to get all the way through this. I need to say it all, and I may not be able to get it out if I have an opportunity to change the subject."

I leaned back a little to stare at Colin, though I didn't remove my hand. His eyebrows were knit together with worry and his eyes never left my face. Slolwy, I nodded. Colin let out a sigh.

"Thank you." He squared his shoulders and sat up straighter, resting his hand on top of my own. "I understand why my approach was... not appreciated when we spoke in the garden and at Lady Danbury's ball. But the sentiment behind what I was saying was genuine. I have been searching for the way to tell you this for years, and I thought the charm and flirtation I learned abroad would be the way to finally do it. Clearly I was wrong. You should have seen the face Benedict made when I talked to him last night..."

Colin trailed off, shaking his head and apparently lost in thought. After a moment, I took a breath to say something else, but the noise must've been enough to jar Colin out of his memories. His stare snapped back to me, eyes slightly wider than usual.

"I love you. I have been in love with you for years, and when I returned home from this trip, I decided to finally do something about it. I thought the charm that worked so well on everyone else would work just as well for you, but... clearly I was mistaken."

I huffed a laugh. That was certainly an understatement.

"I wanted everything to be perfect, to come home changed and sweep you off your feet, but I've already failed at that, and I cannot keep my feelings to myself a moment longer. I love you, and I want to share everything with you. You are my best friend, my confidant, and the only woman I could possibly imagine spending the rest of my life with. Is there even the slightest chance you may feel the same way?"

Colin looked at me with the most open, vulnerable expression I'd ever seen, from anyone. My heart raced in my chest, and all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and never let go. But I forced myself to take a moment, rather than letting my emotions run wild.

"I need you to answer two questions for me, Colin," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and level. Unfortunately, I didn't totally succeed. Colin nodded quickly.

"Anything."

"First... how were your travels? Where was your favorite place to visit?"

Colin huffed a laugh, relaxing and leaning into me slightly as a faint smile pulled onto his face. My heart raced, but I forced myself to keep a neutral expression.

"I apologize for even making this test necessary, but my travels were... incredible. I may ask you not to share details with the rest of the Ton, but anything you ask, I will be happy to share with you. And my favorite place was Paris. I could not stop thinking about the two of us returning someday to visit together. It is a truly romantic city."

Colin's words removed any hope I had at keeping a smile off my face. I leaned into it, grinning at him and squeezing his hand a little as my heart began to race.

"Well then, I look forward to hearing all about them."

"And I look forward to telling you. Your second question?"

"...Did you truly go to Benedict for help with this last night?"

Colin groaned and threw his head back, which made me laugh. He shook his head as he met my eyes again, but he was smiling all the same.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I know you are close with him, and I noticed you going to speak to him after you abruptly left our conversation at the garden party. I thought he might have some insight, and I was right. It just came at the cost of quite a bit of mocking."

"You truly must be serious to give Benedict such ammunition to use against you for the rest of your lives."

"I am incredibly serious. And I would brave the teasing of every one of my siblings if, at the end, it brought me to you."

"Colin, that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Does that mean... you return my affections?"

I smiled. "Yes, Colin. It does. You are my best friend, and I cannot think of anyone I would rather spend my time with than you."

Colin absolutely beamed at me. He began to lean forward, then thought better of himself even as his eyes still strayed to my lips.

"I cannot begin to tell you how desperately I wish we were alone in this moment," he said, voice low and husky. My heart did a backflip as I felt myself flush.

"Hopefully we will not have to wait long," I replied. We stayed there together, the tension and heat growing between us, until my mother cleared her throat from across the room and we were both brought back to reality. We leaned slightly further apart, although we didn't let go of each others' hands, and shared a grin.

"So... does that mean you will marry me?"

I laughed. "Colin, you cannot be serious! You began courting me a handful of minutes ago!"

I met Colin's eyes, expecting to share the joke, but instead I found him staring at me with a burning sincerity to go with his words.

"I am happy to wait as long as you need me to," he said, voice lowered slightly. "But I would also happily announce our engagement today."

I smiled and shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought Colin might actually be able to hear it.

"I may ask you to wait at least long enough for us to spend an evening or two together while courting, to see what it may be like to have a different relationship, rather than to spend time together as friends. But... I do not predict you will need to wait long."

The grin that spread across Colin's face was blinding, rivaling the happiest looks I'd ever seen from anyone in my life.

"That is good to hear. There are quite a few things I can hardly wait for, all of which come with engagement and marriage."

"Hm. Thank goodness we are both of positions and family that allow us to disappear for months on a honeymoon, finally sharing some travels around the world together. Among other things."

Colin squeezed my hand, and I could see him fighting back a handful of inappropriate responses and actions. I just grinned back at him, the two of us settling into our usual ease on the couch togehter after a moment so I could finally get Colin to tell me about the things he'd done on his travels. Hopefully, no one else would show up during the calling hours, and Colin and I could spend every moment of the day together just like this.

I'd meant what I'd said about wanting to wait, at least a short while, before announcing an engagement, and I did think it was a good idea. But I also couldn't imagine anything coming between Colin and I again after this. My best friend was back, and we were in love. What more could I possibly ask for in a match than that? Even if Benedict would be insufferable, claiming to be the one who'd set us up. It would be worth it, especially because we would weather the storm of his siblings together. Just like we'd do everything else that came for the rest of our lives.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[fraugwinska]

A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[dyaz-stories]

anywhere else is hollow || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: mostly fluff, some angst because it's sweet home, sharing a bed.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

A/N: Third entrance for @neohumanmonster's fandom event! The prompt was: Peaceful Pillowtalk. For context, reader and Hyun-Su were in high school together, reader was only there for a year before going to another high school, and therefore has no knowledge of the bullying which hyun-su was a victim of. this one-shot can be read independently (there's nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts), but I do recommend reading them for context.

Hyun-Su stays over at your place quite often now. Long gone are the days when he would drop by for no more than a couple of hours and flee the scene, as though he was scared that you spending time with him would make you despise him. Now he helps you out around the house, and, when he offers, the two of you go out on ‘dates’ around the city. It still makes you nervous, being out in the open, but Hyun-Su doesn’t hesitate anymore to take your hand in his and guide you through the empty streets.

When you’re both in your apartment, you can almost tell yourself you’re two college students living together. Almost. If it wasn’t for your blinds being always drawn to ensure no monsters could see you from outside, or your parents’ former room being turned into a laboratory by your dad before his disappearance, the illusion would be close to perfect. You do like the thought of it. Imagining you and Hyun-Su, sharing a place in a world where the Apocalypse hadn’t happened… It would be sweet.

That being said, despite your developing relationship, that you still haven’t put words on, Hyun-Su keeps sleeping on the sofa. You’d prepared a blanket and a pillow, ‘just in case’, in the very beginning, and that is where he still collapses every night. You’ve been waiting, hoping he would ask for another— arrangement, but he hasn’t said anything, and now you’re wondering if you should.

It isn’t always easy, being the one taking all the steps in the relationship. Makes you wonder if you’re pushing too much, too fast, makes you wonder how much he wants it. And yet, if he does want it but doesn’t dare to ask, how stupid would it be to lose that much time, when you never know how long you have?

“Um, Hyun-Su?” you say that night, as you’re about to leave for your room. He looks up at you with these beautiful dark eyes of his. “I was just thinking— you know you don’t have to sleep here, right?”

He blinks at you.

“Do you— are you asking me to leave?” he asks, and you immediately want to slap yourself. A few months ago, you think he’d have been half-way to the door already. Now, he sounds cautious and a little worried, but he doesn’t seem to have jumped to conclusions just yet.

“No,” you sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head against the door frame because, yeah, it makes sense he’d interpret it like that. “No, I just meant you could, uh—” you glance towards your room. “Just meant you have other options. Here. If you— if you want to.”

You don’t know why you’re so nervous all of sudden. You think a part of you cannot forget how beloved Hyun-Su was in high school, while you were— no one. If the world wasn’t ending, you don’t think he would have looked at you twice. So, sometimes, you wonder if he wants you the same way you want him. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t initiate much of your more intimate moments, and isn’t much of a talker in general.

Hyun-Su’s eyes slowly move to the open door to your room, then move back to you, going wide.

“Are you—” His voice cracks. “Are you sure?”

You nod, not really trusting yourself with words right now. You don’t want to sound desperate for affection, but you also don’t want, even for a second, to make it sound like it’s something you’re nonchalant about.

“Okay,” Hyun-Su mumbles. “Okay.”

He gets up from the couch, walks over to the door, where you’re still standing. You’re both quiet when you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the bed. It feels awkward, but you don’t have enough experience with this sort of thing to tell if that’s how it’s supposed to be.

For a while, you just stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, with Hyun-Su doing the same thing next to you. The atmosphere feels heavy, your whole body warm and tingling. This is all just so new to you. There have been lots of moments between the two of you, mostly spontaneous, just doing what felt right in the moment. This is different, probably because you asked, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

After a while, you roll over on your side, looking at Hyun-Su’s profile, until he turns his head to look at you. You press your lips together. Your mind is going into overdrive, trying to figure something to say — what do you even say in these circumstances? You’re drawing a blank. At least until Hyun-Su raises a hand and his fingers start slowly tracing your cheekbone, then your jaw.

You feel your breath catching in your throat, and your lips part as you do your best to keep yourself perfectly still. It’s like you’re finally being approached by a shy cat that you’re trying not to scare away.

Gently, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks, soft voice echoing in the dark.

Afraid of what? Of him? Of someone who touches you like you’re made of porcelain?

“No,” you answer.

For a while, there’s just the sound of the two of you breathing, and the feeling of his hand on your cheek.

“What if I hurt you?” he asks finally, voice weak and fragile.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You swallow. You know he can feel it.

“Yes, I do,” you whisper, and you genuinely believe it to be true.

Hyun-Su’s hand stills. You hear him breathe out, before there’s the sound of rustling and then the feeling of his lips on yours. As usual with him, the kiss is brief and soft, a simple press of his lips against your own. What follows isn’t usual, though, the way he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest, so he can put his chin on top of your head. It has your heart beating erratically, even if it’s not the first time he’s that close to you.

It’s just that that happens mostly when the two of you are kissing. The fact that he’s seeking that kind of closeness without that happening is a whole other kind of intimacy, one that almost makes you shiver.

“Is that okay too?” he checks. “You— said I didn’t need to ask, but…”

“It’s more than okay,” you answer, closing one arm around him however you can. “And I meant it when I said that.”

“I—” A sigh. “I don’t want to impose on you. Sometimes I— I feel like I need you too much.”

It becomes hard to breathe all of a sudden. Hyun-Su isn’t one for that kind of confession, not usually, but you desperately want to hear more. He keeps talking, and you feel his voice rumble through his chest and through you, while he plays with your hair distractedly.

“You’re so— independent. You look like you’re doing so well on your own, here. But it physically hurts to be away from you,” he mumbles into your hair. “But I— know what I am. I never want you to think you can’t— can’t push me away because you’re scared of that— that part of me.”

Your eyes sting, and you hold him a little tighter against you.

“I know who you are, too, Hyun-Su. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“Not now,” he admits. “But if one day—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call softly, trying to get his attention back on you instead of this distant, nebulous future. You live in a world where you may not know tomorrow, where a simple infection could be the end, not to mention the ever looming threat of monsterization taking you over. “I want you here. With me. I promise.”

Finally, you seem to be getting through to him. He relaxes into you, and his breathing turns deeper, more even.

“This feels nice,” he whispers after a while, and you smile against his skin.

“It does.”

You drift into sleep not long after that, you think, and for the first time in forever, you don’t wake throughout the night, startled by the smallest sound.

You just feel safe.

i hope you liked this one! i love developing reader and hyun-su's relationship through small steps, but just to let you know, we're getting closer to some smut taking place 👀 i hope people won't feel let down by that. i do think it would be out of character to write something super intense for them at that point so don't expect anything hardcore, but the 'porn with feelings' tag on ao3 is my shit so if you like that you might find something to enjoy in there! okay i think i'm done with this lil ramble.

Comments, whether here, in the tags or in a reblog, are greatly appreciated! interactions really motivate me and keep me writing :)

next part

[fluentmoviequoter]

Doggitude

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x teacher!fem!reader (+ Kojo!)

Summary: After Tim takes his bad day out on you, you leave. Kojo misses you and does everything he can to see you again.

Warnings: angst, argument, Tim insults/belittles reader and her job, fluffy ending! KOJO!!

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim loves you, and loves his job, but sometimes those sides of him are at odds. You are happy, bubbly, a ray of sunshine in a dark world, whereas his job shows him only the dark. Each side of Tim impacts the others; a good day with you leads into a good day at work, and a bad day at work is occasionally taken out on you.

Tim knows he isn’t a great boyfriend, and he can be abrasive and use you as an emotional outlet when things aren’t going well. He tries, he really does, but some bad days make being a good person seem impossible.

This week, Tim has worked several shifts back-to-back and is in a terrible mood when his shift finally ends. He’s ready to get home, but he just wants to enjoy some quiet and go to sleep, so he decides not to call you. Even as he sees your picture on his phone screen, he finds your smile a bit too bright. You’re different than him, and Tim usually loves that, but at the end of three consecutive bad days, Tim wants to stew in his anger rather than see something bright, like looking into the sun after extended time in a cave.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve been spending time at Tim’s house while he’s been at work. Every minute with Kojo in the otherwise empty house has made you miss Tim even more. Your kindergarten class has been rowdy all week, but you refuse to let them dampen your mood. Excited at the idea of Tim finally coming home tonight, you sit with Kojo and wait, reviewing lesson plans and report cards in your spare time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo looks up from your lap when the front door opens, and you smile brightly when Tim enters. He doesn’t notice you as he drops his bag and sighs.

“Hey,” you greet. “We missed you this week.”

Tim clenches his jaw as he turns to face you. “Have you been here every night this week?”

Nodding, you explain, “I wanted to see you, but I also needed to take care of Kojo.” 

He remains silent, his eyes focused on something behind you.

“Are you okay? I know it’s been a long week, but-“

“You don’t know,” Tim says, cutting you off. “You will never understand what a long week really is.”

“Tim, I-“

“No,” Tim snaps, stepping back as he shrugs sarcastically. “You do not understand what it is like for me. Your job is nothing; your long week is because a kid wets his pants, mine is because one of my own gets shot or I lose a suspect, and someone gets hurt because of it. In the grand scheme of things, your job doesn’t matter because people still become criminals and ruin lives like mine!”

Tim’s chest is heaving with anger, every little thing he had to deal with this week weighing on him while he takes it out on you. You bite down on your bottom lip as he continues hurting you, attacking you and the thing you love to make himself feel better.

“You’re angry and tired,” you begin, your smile long gone. “So, I’m going to go-“

“Don’t talk to me like I am one of students. You can barely control them, so don’t try to placate me. I have dealt with criminals who do more work than you.”

A tear rolls over your cheek, and you wipe it away harshly.

“Then go yell at them, since that seems to be what you do to the people you claim to care about,” you reply, grabbing your things.

“Don’t leave.” Tim rolls his eyes as he says it, like you’re overreacting.

“I didn’t want to, but you clearly do. I hope you feel better in the morning, Tim.”

The door slams behind you, and Tim runs his hand over his hair, pinching the tight muscle at the back of his neck. Kojo jumps from the chair where he was sitting beside you, rushing to the closed door and whimpering. He looks back at Tim, whining as he raises his paw toward the door. 

“I messed up, didn’t I, Kojo?” Tim asks.

Kojo whines again, a clear ‘yes.’ Kojo has loved you since the moment he met you, and Tim even refers to you as 'Kojo’s mom.' Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing your number. He gets no answer, and Tim can’t blame you, but he also knows better than to chase you. He texts you and puts his phone away, calling Kojo to follow him to bed. Kojo stays at the door, lying down and watching the doorknob. 

“Sorry, buddy,” Tim says, leaving his bedroom door open in case Kojo forgives him in the night.

✯✯✯✯✯

Once you are safely in your apartment, you let yourself cry, Tim’s words on a loop in your mind. Your phone rings again, and you see Tim’s name with yet another message. Turning the ringer off, you push your phone away from you and curl up in the middle of your bed, crying rather than sleeping.

Tim has been emotional coming home from work before, saying something you didn’t deserve. He’s never taken it this far or made it about you personally before tonight. His comments about your job had to have come from somewhere, maybe something he’s been hiding. You don’t believe him; you know what you do is important, but Tim hurt you, and you’re not sure it will ever stop hurting.

When the sun appears on the horizon, you call in sick from work, prepared for a long weekend alone. Part of you wants to know if Tim is feeling better today, but then you remember what he did, giving you a bad day in his attempt to minimize his own.

“I miss Kojo,” you whisper, crying again as you remember that it’s not only Tim you’re losing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo?” Tim calls, growing more worried with each empty room.

Behind the kitchen island, Kojo is sitting and shaking with his head down. Tim kneels before him and lays a gentle hand on his back. Kojo begins whining, a different sound than his reaction to you leaving last night.

“What’s the matter, Kojo?” Tim whispers.

Kojo shakes harder, sliding his front paws out so he’s lying flat on the floor. Tim searches for a nearby vet hospital before picking Kojo up and carrying him outside. Once Kojo is in his truck, Tim drives to the vet hospital. Kojo’s whining turns to short barks as he carries him inside. The vet takes one look at Kojo shaking and leads Tim into an examination room. After checking Kojo's vitals quickly, the vet sets her equipment down and chuckles.

“Mr.?” she begins.

“Bradford. And that’s Kojo.”

“Mr. Bradford, Kojo is faking. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s- he’s fine?”

“Yes, he is. Dogs sometimes do this when they want attention or after something changes, in an attempt to get it back. Has something like that happened recently?”

Tim looks at Kojo and nods. 

“Someone will be in shortly with the paperwork. I’m glad Kojo is healthy. Have a nice day, Bradfords.”

As the door closes, Tim asks, “Wasn’t that a bit dramatic? Did you think I’d call her, and she’d answer for you?”

Kojo looks up and grunts at Tim. Someone knocks before handing Tim the bill and telling him he’s free to go. Tim looks down at the bill and releases a deep exhale. He should be upset with Kojo, but he probably deserves a lot worse for what he did to you.

“She really won’t come back now, Kojo. You spent all my money,” Tim mutters.

Kojo grunts again as Tim clips a leash to his collar. He refuses to look at Tim, upset that he was taken to the vet rather than your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim hasn’t texted in a few hours. He either realized you weren’t going to answer or decided he didn’t want to talk. You haven’t read the messages or played the voicemails, too hurt to communicate with Tim in any way. Reading his words or hearing his voice will make you cry harder, and you’re already nearly cried out.

Looking at a framed picture of Kojo, you wish things had been different, wondering if one little choice would have made things end differently. You didn’t sleep last night, and you’re sure you won’t sleep again tonight, too busy crying and mourning the loss of the most important boys in your life. As the sun sets, you begin sobbing, holding the picture of Kojo to your chest as you hear Tim’s angry words in your mind again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo won’t come near Tim, content to sit by the door. When Tim moves, Kojo grunts, turning away. The doorbell rings, and Kojo steps back, watching Tim as he answers it. Signing for a package, Tim ignores Kojo’s growling.

“I can’t make her forgive me, pal,” Tim tells Kojo after he closes the door.

Kojo trots away, turning into the guest room to sleep. Tim sits on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose as he realizes he has two problems that must be solved. He hurt you, and worse, he hurt you intentionally, and now he has a dog that misses you and blames him. Tim understands why you are ignoring him and why Kojo is upset, too. Reaching for his phone, he texts you again, but the dozens of unanswered texts above the newest make him refrain from calling you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After managing to get an hour and a half of sleep, you hope the third night without Tim will be easier. When you hear a dog barking outside your window and a man talking kindly to the dog as if it will respond, you realize that tonight will likely be the worst. Tim and Kojo do that, have their own language, and you were part of their world for a brief, brilliant moment. And then it was snatched away from you, breaking your heart and hurting your mind in the process.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You have to go outside eventually, Kojo,” Tim says with his arms crossed over his chest and Kojo’s leash hanging from his hand.

Kojo grunts, looks toward the door, and slowly approaches Tim. On the walk, Kojo pulls harder than usual, not listening to Tim when he gives him commands.

“When is this dog-gitude going to pass, Kojo?” Tim asks. “Because there’s nothing we can do.”

Tim doesn’t realize how close he is to your apartment when he enters the dog park. Kojo runs back and forth across the park a few times, glad to stretch his legs after avoiding Tim in the house for a few days. When he stops suddenly, looking at Tim as his back legs drop, preparing to run, Tim knows he can’t stop him.

“Kojo, no!” Tim yells.

Kojo, of course, doesn’t listen. He runs past Tim, out of the dog park, and down the sidewalk as fast as possible. Tim follows behind, pushing himself past his limit to catch Kojo. When he sees the lights of a familiar apartment complex, he realizes that Kojo is finding you.

“Kojo!” Tim calls again, slowing as he begins up the stairs.

✯✯✯✯✯

A dog barks at your door, and for a moment, you think you are imagining Kojo’s presence. When claws scratch against the wood, you open the door slowly. Kojo pushes past you, circling your legs happily. You sink to the floor, wrapping your arms around Kojo. Unaware that you are still crying, you’re surprised when Kojo begins licking your chin, attempting to dry your tears.

Footsteps echo in the stairwell, and when Tim appears in your doorway, panting and pressing one hand to the doorjamb to stay upright, you turn toward him instinctually. Kojo grunts, moving in front of you, blocking Tim.

Tim sees your tears and bloodshot eyes and can’t stop himself from stepping inside. He closes the door and squats, keeping his eyes on you as he lowers to look in your eyes over Kojo’s head.

“Did you read my messages?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, and he nods before leaning back as he sits against the door.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Shaking your head again, you pull Kojo back into your arms and cling to him.

“I’m going to tell you want my messages said, but if you want me to stop I will,” Tim begins. “I never should have said those things about your job, because they were wrong. Teaching is important, and the kind of teaching you do is far more important than what I do. You give kids a chance to be the best they can be, and I have to find the bad people and make them pay for it. You already know that I had a long week, a bad one, too, and I took that out on you. I can’t say much more than I am sorry; I’m so sorry that I talked to you like that. You are the only good part of a life surrounded by grief. I- I wouldn’t forgive me.”

“Why?” you ask against Kojo. “Why did you say those things?”

“You- you’re bright, sunny, happy… all the time.”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“I love that about you. But, after the week I had, it was just hard to turn away from the hard parts of the job and see pure light.”

“So, you don’t want to come back to-“

“Don’t finish that. This has nothing to do with you. This was all me, trying to deal with a bad week and making it far worse. Hurting you in the process was not my intention, and I can never make up for that.”

You hug Kojo tightly, thinking about what Tim said. Having two completely different life elements like that can’t be easy. If it’s not about him not wanting to come home to you, you’re not sure how to avoid the same thing in the future.

“I’m sorry,” Tim repeats. “And, if you give me a second chance, I will show you that I can separate the two. Bringing a bad day home to you, hurting you, is not an option and I never should have lost sight of that… I’ve missed you.”

“I missed Kojo.”

“Yeah, Kojo missed you too,” Tim replies with a dramatic raise of his brows. “Cost me nearly $1,000 trying to see you again.”

“How?” you ask, looking up at Tim again.

He softens when your eyes meet his. “He pretended to be sick trying to get you to come back, but I just took him to the vet. Emergency visits are expensive, even if there is no reason for it.”

“Did- did you follow him here?”

“Yeah. He ran from the dog park and came straight here.”

“Would you have come here if he hadn’t led you, or would you have just moved on after I stopped answering the phone?”

Tim slides closer until Kojo is the only thing separating him from you. “I would have come. I would have gotten on my knees and begged to apologize.”

“Just to apologize?”

“I can’t force you to forgive me or give me another chance, just tell you that I’m sorry and I miss you like crazy.”

“Well, I missed you like Kojo missed me,” you say quietly.

“That much?”

“I haven’t slept in three nights, so, yeah,” you answer with a chuckle.

Tim raises his hand to your face, placing his fingers under your jaw as his thumb moves gently across your cheek.

“I forgive you,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Just promise to talk to me, rather than take it out at me next time you have a bad day?”

“I promise,” Tim replies. “Kojo, move.”

Kojo grunts, moving closer to you.

“Kojo,” you say, smiling when he moves to your side, watching you closely for any sign of hurt.

“He likes you more than me. His mom left and nothing could make it better.”

“Has he been eating? Because I have some of his food here-“

Tim cuts you off, kissing you softly as his hand moves to the back of your neck. He moves slowly, communicating his love and his apology in his movements.

“Can we get off the floor?” you ask.

“Only if Kojo and I can stay for a while.”

“You can stay forever.”

Tim pulls you into his lap, smiling when you grab his shoulders in surprise. He kisses your jaw as he stands, pulling you up and moving to your couch.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” you say, patting for Kojo to join you.

“Why are you like this?” Tim replies.

“Because I’m sunny, and bright, and all things happy.”

“Lucky me,” Tim hums.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Connect 4 FIC] Mementos

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1243 Tags: fluff, pre-relationship, future fic, photography

Notes: For the @sandman-connect4 prompts Goldfish and Photography

Summary: Hob waxes nostalgic about an old hobby that's also his newest career.

On AO3

"Photography is such an amazing innovation, yeah?" Hob snaps another photo as he speaks, capturing the elegant swish of orange and white fins just breaking the pond's surface. "Still marvel over it, sometimes, used to it as I am."

"Indeed." Dream is drifting along at Hob's side, interested and attentive, and Hob knows by now that no one nearby will pay any attention to his ramblings so long as Dream is here with his notice-me-not aura. He's free to speak of whatever he likes without fear of being overheard.

"Couldn't imagine, first I heard of it—a device to take your portrait, without having to sit for a painter? Unthinkable! But it was true!" He snaps another pic as a particularly elegant fantail wriggles past a lily pad. "Couldn't wait to get a daguerreotype taken; I still have it, stored away for safekeeping, along with every other portrait I had done in the nineteenth century. They just kept refining and improving on the process—it was amazing, y'know? How marvelous, this ability to capture an image exactly as seen, and it just kept getting better. Had plans to show you the latest I'd had done at our meeting in 1889, if I hadn't put my foot in it first." He snaps another photo, two fish swimming past one another in a graceful floating of fins, and keeps right on talking before Dream can offer any commentary on that particular phase of their friendship. It's water under the bridge, done and gone and forgiven and he doesn't need an apology every time it comes up.

"And then personal-use cameras became a thing, and the tech just kept improving. It was so exciting to have the ability—I could just, y'know, pick up a camera and take pictures of whatever I liked! Any time! People I'd eventually have to leave behind, I could keep pictures now, if I wanted. Don't always, y'know, I've gotten very good at picking up and moving on when needed and not pulling a bunch of baggage after me, but it's nice sometimes to have those photos there to look back on when the memory starts to fade."

Dream makes a soft sound of agreement as Hob crouches by the edge of the pond, snapping a few rapid-fire shots from the new lower angle.

"And then Polaroids! Didn't even have to send those out, just wait a few minutes and wave it about a bit. Instant pictures. Fantastic. And then digital cameras? Phone cameras? Video, of course? Nowadays everybody's got hundreds of photos in their pocket at any given second, everyone can record or commemorate anything in their life that they want at a moment's notice, and I think that's just brilliant." He grunts as he rises back to his feet, steps away from the perimeter of the pond to capture a wider shot.

"Spent a lot of time on photography as a hobby, middle of last century," he continues as he works. "Amazing how accessible it was. Learned how to develop my own film, which lenses could do what, played with anything I could get my hands on. It was just so cool."

"It was this time as a hobbyist that led you to your current career choice, then," Dream says, in a tone of dawning understanding.

"Yeah, more or less." Teaching had lasted him another decade and a half after Dream's return before he'd needed to pull up roots and reinvent himself, and his old hobby had called to him. "With the trending interest in reviving analog photography it seemed a decent choice after retiring 'Professor Gadling'. Wasn't hard to get hired; most of what I shoot for the magazine's still digital—most of their subscription distribution is digital—but they've got an analog branch catering to collectors and enthusiasts and lucky for me I'm proficient in all of it."

"The luck perhaps belongs to your employer, in securing your skills," Dream offers, with one of those little smiles that Hob so loves to collect. He offers a grin of his own.

"I'll be sure to tell them you said so in my next appraisal."

"And do all of your assignments involve photographing fish?"

Hob laughs. "Nah, course not—it's a lifestyle-and-interest publication; I wind up shooting all sorts of things. This guy's been maintaining his ponds here for decades—probably knew that already, didn't you—and they wanted to do a feature on it. I was chuffed to get the assignment; I've been fascinated by pond building and maintenance for a few years now and I'm pleased to see this fabulous setup in person."

Dream says nothing, studying the pond in uncanny stillness as Hob takes a few more photos.

"Lovely creatures," he says at last.

"Aren't they?"

"They remind me of my sister."

"The one who—?" Hob makes a sweeping gesture with one hand meant to indicate himself and his whole still-alive thing.

"No; the youngest." Dream crouches, dangles fingertips in the water. "They often feature in the way that perception alters around her."

Hob waits to see if anything further is forthcoming, then tucks that small piece of information away to hopefully be expanded upon at a later date. He's learned much about Dream in the last couple decades by paying attention when these little dribs and drabs of personal information are offered and waiting patiently for the next.

He pauses in his photographing, glances sideways down at his friend. "What do their dreams look like, then? Do fish even sleep?"

"Not as such. Not as humans do." Dream wriggles his fingers, once, the surface rippling gently in their wake. "Their dreams are fleeting, gossamer; ephemeral wisps of comfortable waters, of safety, of plenty." There are fish approaching to nibble at Dream's fingertips, orandas and comets and ryukins; Hob watches for a moment then pulls out his phone and snaps a picture, for himself.

Dream catches the change of equipment, glances up with another of those little smiles—indulgent. Hob snaps again, pleased to have proof of that smile, pleased that Dream is present enough in the Waking today to be captured by the camera.

"Oh, look at this fellow," he says, motioning to a large black moor that is swimming up to investigate Dream's fingertips, and slips his phone back into his pocket.

"A beautiful specimen," Dream allows, holding perfectly still while the fish mouths at one finger and then another. "His color is exquisite."

Hob grins. "Must sense a fellow goth in you." He lifts his work camera again, snaps a few of the lovely black fish after Dream has reclaimed his hand.

"Perhaps." Dream's still got that little smile, and Hob remains absolutely delighted to see it.

"C'mon. Let's go see what Mr. Goldfish-Enthusiast has got in his koi pond, over here."

The rest of the afternoon passes pleasantly, more fish photographed, more stories of Hob's past told. And in his pocket, safe in his phone, there are two new pictures of Dream to remind him of his friend when absences stretch long, as they sometimes must. It is comforting, after everything and all these centuries, to know that he's allowed these mementos. He's confident by now that Dream will always return; they have met more in the last twenty years than in the six hundred before and Hob is elated that the friendship he'd recklessly claimed in 1889 has blossomed so wonderfully in truth.

But it's nice he's got the pictures to prove it.

= Started: 11/21/24 Drafted: 11/29/24 Posted: 11/30/24

[companionjones]

Thank You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x FemPresenting!Reader

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie)

Summary: You're Abby's babysitter. Mike comes home one night. Things ensue.

Warnings: SMUT, Cursing, Mommy kink, Choking kink, a smidgen of spit kink, enjoy

*******

He would really only ever say those two words to you. You were a light sleeper, so him opening the door would always wake you. Once he noticed that you were awake, he would bid you "Thank you," and you would leave.

That night, however, when he came home, he walked straight over to the dining room table and set down his things without uttering a word. He leaned on the piece of furniture and his head dipped down, seemingly in defeat.

"I still can't pay you," he informed, his voice strained. Something told you he was holding back tears.

It wasn't much, but at least it wasn't two words. "What made you think I was ever in this for the money?"

"Then why would you do this?!" Mike suddenly turned to you and whisper-yelled. You knew he didn't want to wake up his sister.

In response to him taking out his frustration on you, you just tilted your head. You had the most sympathetic look on your face. You didn't say any words, you merely walked over to him.

Mike tried backing away from you, but he ran into the table.

You simply put your hands on his arms. Your face was serene.

He could scarcely breathe.

"Why do you think I do this?"

You leaned in, but , surprisingly, Mike met you halfway. He seemed so eager to finally kiss you.

The two of you stood there for some time, making out in the dimly lit main room of the Schmidt residence. You wrapped your arms around his neck while Mike's hands held a white-knuckle grip on the table.

It didn't surprise you when Mike pulled back. "We-we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why's that?"

"Because Abby's asleep right down the hall!" he whispered, "Plus, you're like-like my-"

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Your what? Employee? We've just established that you don't pay me, so I think we're good on that front, and as for your sister..." you paused and leaned in close to his ear.

Mike had a sharp intake of breath as you did that.

"I guess we'll just need to be quiet, huh?"

With that, you took him by the hand and started leading him back to his bedroom. Mike followed you like the good boy he was.

In no time, you had Mike stripped down and in bed with you seated on top of him, naked as well.

There was a sound, and Mike shot up, thinking it was his sister.

"It was just the house settling, okay?" You looked at him with dreamy eyes. "Relax."

Slowly, Mike nodded and laid back down.

"You ready?"

Again, all you got was a nod.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that, if we're going to do this," you only half-joked.

Surprising you, Mike felt up your legs as his eyes slowly trailed up your body. "I want you...so bad." He announced every word with emphasis.

You gave a breathy chuckle at his compliance, lifted yourself, then lowered yourself down on his hard length.

While you just sighed, Mike whimpered, the quiet sound getting loudest when you fully sat on him. He took handfuls of your thighs for support.

"Remember what we said about the volume?" you teased.

"Sorry." The words came out strained as his eyelids were shut.

"Ah, ah, ah." You gave a light slap to his cheek. "Be a good boy and keep your eyes on Mommy."

"Fuck," Mike gasped. You also felt his cock jump at your words.

Smirking at his reaction, you leaned over him and started slightly riding his dick. "What? You like that?"

"Oh, god." Mike's body tensed as you started to ride him and struggled to keep his eyes open.

"You like me calling you good boy? Or was it the part about...Mommy?"

"Mommy!" Mike shuddered as your hole squeezed him.

"That's my good boy," you smiled. You took some time to enjoy the ride yourself as you placed your hands on your feet and leaned back. Some time later, you returned your posture to find that Michael's eyes had slid shut again. "What did I say?" You fell forward and caught yourself with one hand on the bed and the other around Mike's throat.

The shock surely opened his eyes for good. "Sorry! I'm sorry...sorry...sorry."

"You better be," you spat. Quite literally. Into his mouth. Well, most of it the corner of his mouth.

That didn't seem to matter to Mike. He licked the remaining spit into his mouth while keeping full eye contact with you.

"Good boy..." you smirked again, and, with one final squeeze, started to let go of Mike's throat.

However, he disagreed with that action. "No!" he whisper-yelled, and grabbed your wrist to keep you in place. "I-fuck-I love this."

Your smirk grew teeth as you smiled down at Michael Schmidt, submissive and pliant to your touch.

"Shit. I think I'm...close," Mike informed between breaths.

You raised an eyebrow. "Well then, you'll have to hold on 'cause I'm not there yet. Anything you want to do about that?"

Those words had Mike frantically nodding. Suddenly, he was rolling on top of you. You took your hand off his neck. Mike was determined to get you to cum before he did, and my god was he good.

Your eyes lulled back as he pounded into you. Another smile appeared on your lips. When you returned to look at him, you realized Mike had kept his gaze steady on you the whole time. Quickly, however, his facade broke and his head fell down onto your shoulder. "Mommy..." he whined out.

You decided to forgive the transgression as you threaded fingers into his hair and whispered into his ear. "I'm close now, too, baby."

That seemed to renew his vigor because he moved to face you again. Mike also put your hand back around his throat.

You squeezed him for good measure. Up top and down under. His reaction got you to smile, but that smile faded as you felt the pressure building up inside you. You flipped you and Mike so you were back on top.

There, you kept your faces close, but launched your head back when you came. Eventually, you fell back down onto Mike's shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment until--

"Mom-my-?" came the broken up voice of Mike.

"Did Mommy forget to let her good boy cum?" You returned to your spot above him.

Again, Mike was nodding frantically.

You leaned back down to whisper in his ear, "Go ahead. You've more than earned it."

Immediately, Mike sped up his thrusts. His breathing got faster, too. He grabbed your arm that was supporting your weight, and your wrist whose hand was squeezing his neck and Mike came with a shout. Both you and Mike covered his mouth after the loud sound. He thrusted a few more times into you as he completed his orgasm.

You and Mike stayed still for a minute or so after that; half relishing in the post-sex atmosphere, and half praying that Abby didn't walk in.

Thank god, she didn't.

So, you pulled off of Mike, and the two of you got yourselves cleaned up.

"You can stay, if you want to," Mike offered, standing next to his bed.

You walked up to him, put your hand on his chest, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I would love that."

Somehow, the two of you made it work on Mike's twin bed. You were halfway on top of him, but you weren't complaining.

Finally, as you and Mike were falling asleep, you heard two words, mumbled out by Mike, "Thank you."

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[demonicbaby666]

Territorial

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, fingering, semi-public sex

Summary: Attending an event with Kara seemed a good idea. It had never been an issue in the past, but when she returns from mingling to find you enjoying the company of another guest, things take an interesting turn.

A/n: I want to say that I've thoroughly proofread this, but I cannot because I am lazy and also not motivated enough to do that :)

Kara didn't want to leave you. On the drive over to the reporter's gala, you'd heard her say just that, even if you were the slightest bit distracted by how her muscles bulged under the sleeves of her blazer. 

She knew you were no social butterfly and had sworn to stay by your side when you needed a breather from small talk and scheming questions—a hero even when she shed her cape. You'd tried to reason with her, explain you were not a child, that you'd be fine alone. Alas, it proved useless. She wasn't having it. 

However, that was the drive over when Kara had yet to be faced with renowned reporters, endless opportunities for stories and the chance to fill a whole page, front and back, with media contacts. So, when the time came, you were proud to admit you succeeded in swaying your girlfriend to do all the things you knew she was most looking forward to with a "Please don't let me stop you. I had been wanting to check out the bar anyway." 

You did receive a dejected look from Kara as she was dragged away, one that reminded you of a little lost pup. That wasn't entirely a pleasant sight, but when you arrived at a too-tall bar stool and peeked over your shoulder, you were happy to note Kara was lost in conversation. The twinkle in her eyes she only got when intrigue grew and questions were formed was bright as ever. She was utterly consumed. It was a happy sight. A sight that, mixed with alcohol, made your chest flush a little too hot for liking. 

Time ticked by, and for a while, it was okay. You watched Kara move around, go from person to person, nursing your drink between glances and taking in the room decor. The thought of joining her did cross your mind but was quickly stored away when you realised how hard it would be to reach the blonde across the ocean of bodies. Better to sit tight and save yourself the trouble. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the event hall grew too loud. Not loud from rowdy patrons or blasting music. The accumulation of too many polite voices and clattering sounds combined to form a monotonous hum was what was beginning to drive you crazy. You waited. And you waited. And you waited some more. You waited for as long as you could, feeling more and more how your cheeks began to burn until it got a little too much, and you found your way outside to the stone stairs of the grand entrance, heart beating a little too fast for your liking.

That was where Kara found you. She'd wrapped up her conversations as fast as possible, asking and answering rapid-fire questions, absorbing every bit of knowledge offered while keeping track of the time. It couldn't be helped that now and again, she lost herself in stories that she imagined would one day be hers. She knew you'd understand. But then, too much time had passed, and she knew it as she hurried over to the bar, already panicked about how best to apologise for leaving you alone for so long. 

By the time she did find you, after discovering the bar vacant, her worries were gone, and Kara was joyous to finally be so close to you again that she could smell your perfume. The stories she'd heard were waiting on the tip of her tongue to be regurgitated, along with an apology kiss, which she had decided was the foolproof option on the walk over. However, when she turned a corner and finally saw your unmistakable figure, she did not expect to find you with company. More so, she did not expect a pristine blazer that was not hers to be wrapped around you, keeping you warm from the evening's light breeze. 

Watching from a close distance, Kara could see it. She could hear it pierce her ears—the bitter sound of laughter. You were smiling, listening attentively to what this random woman spewed at you, and it drove Kara crazy, filled her veins with fire, and turned her knuckles white. She hated this part of herself, the wiry-clawed green-eyed monster that came out so often around you. She'd been pushing it down all evening, all week, hell, your whole relationship, whenever she saw someone's eyes linger on your figure too long. But this, whatever was happening between you and this woman, was, for some reason, Kara's last straw. 

"It's freezing." She strode over, steps heavy, tone sharp as she announced her presence.

It was, in fact, not freezing, and you were about to mention that as you turned to greet Kara, but the second you saw her stony expression, you decided otherwise. 

"Kara, it's so nice to finally meet you," the woman beside you said, extending her arm to the blonde with a warm, charismatic smile. "Andrea." 

The reporter outright ignored the greeting, stared at Andrea with flared nostrils and then back to you, her eyes softening only a smidge. You hated to say it, even if it was just to yourself, but something about seeing Kara this way deeply affected you. Of course, you loved sweet Kara, the Kara that would never be able not to help, the Kara that left a trail of sunshine behind her as she walked, the Kara that giggled at double entendres, and that's what she said jokes. But this Kara, fierce, protective and territorial Kara, the Kara that would crack someone's neck if they looked at you the wrong way, throw them over the side of a building if they even thought to touch you, drove you mad with undying lust. 

"Why are you out here?" your girlfriend asked, snapping you out of your daze. Her eyes grew smaller, and her lips thinned as she stared at the blazer still around your shoulders. 

Sensing her hostility and heavy eyes, you got the hint. Well, it was less of a hint than a blaring alarm. Nonetheless, you understood. "I got a bit hot inside, that's all," you calmly answered, beginning to shrug off the satin jacket that seemed to be Kara's new adversary lest she burn a hole right through it. 

"Nice seeing you, Andrea," Kara said dryly, sporting a sarky smile as she took the blazer off your shoulder and handed it back. "I'll be taking my girlfriend inside now."

With an arm hooked around your waist, you were ushered inside, unsure what the hell had just happened until it was too late to turn around and apologise for Kara's out-of-character behaviour. 

"Did you have to be so rude?" you whispered. "She was only being nice." 

Kara was indifferent, her face expressionless. "I thought you didn't want to socialise," she finally said, manoeuvring past groups of chattering clusters. 

"She approached me. It would have been rude to ignore her," you tried to reason.

"The blazer?" Kara countered, nails digging into you so hard you felt them pierce the silk material of your dress, forcing you to choke down a whimper. 

There were so many things you could have said, so many things you should have said. You could have given Kara one of the many valid reasons you had at your disposal. But no, you did nothing of the sort. Seeing Kara this pissed off, even if she was trying to hide the true extent of it, was absolutely divine, and you wanted it to last. 

Leaning over to her ear, keeping up with her quick pace on your tippy toes, you sultrily whispered, "I was chilly, and she offered to keep warm." 

Kara halted, standing stark still in the middle of a desolate hallway. You saw her jaw lock, the way her veins in her neck bulged. Her eyes, shining a scorching shade of blue, looked off into the distance, and that was when Kara truly lost herself to silent rage. 

When her feet started moving again, no words were spoken. She only pushed you down the corridor and then to the left, each step growing more daunting as the woman beside you remained stoic. You started to consider that perhaps you had gone too far. 

"Kara, I-" you tried but were cut off by the force of Kara roughly shoving you inside a side room. With no warning, your body was slammed against the back of the door, forcing it shut with a bang that echoed in your ears, its remnants reduced to a faint buzz. 

Kara had kept her hands on your waist, body a safe distance away as her azure eyes roamed your face in rapid intervals, eventually landing on your lips. 

"Do you need a reminder?" she snapped. 

Fidgeting and momentarily adverse to maintaining eye contact, you looked around at the collection of coats, studying all the colours, all the various items poking out of pockets, and the occasional umbrella brought in by the wary, inherently failing to answer Kara's vague question. 

The quiet grew to be biting; its teeth gnawed away at your confidence until breathing became almost impossible. Thankfully, the room itself was chilled, air circulating well enough to ensure that dust particles and the distinct smell of dampness would not stick to the fabric. Only two windows painted the room, both of which were located to your right, one jammed shut with rust and debris, the other slightly ajar. And as grating seconds passed like hours, and eyes locked onto you, hot breath rained down on you, the timid breeze that began to sweep in through the small crack of that old window became your new best friend. 

You focused on it as you looked to the floor and watched your toes curl. You heard its high-pitched whistles alongside the squeaking leather of your shoes, and you felt its light fingers caress your flushed cheeks just enough to dull your panic to a manageable seven. 

Of course, this did not last long. Your senses eventually found you, and you remembered the lingering question dancing in the air and the unhappy blonde who deserved an apology. But it was too late. For the second time that evening, you concluded that you'd pushed your girlfriend too far. 

Your punishment was a hand coiling around your throat, calloused fingers threatening to mark you with blotchy bruises but not daring to squeeze hard enough to hurt. Beneath the firm grip, you closed your eyes, frustrated with how painstakingly annoying it was to have something so wrong feel so good. So fucking good you were struggling to hold in a moan. 

"Do you need a reminder that you're mine?" Kara calmly asked, fractionally squeezing just that little bit tighter to force out a strained whimper. Her pupils were blown wide, dark whirls of something foreign polluting the bright shine of her irises. 

Distant music seeped in, filling the silence between rapid breaths. Eyes sharpened their focus on one another, studying the new hues of lust, committing the new palettes to memory for lonely nights. Then came the slip—your submission offered with one last shuddering breath and the slow close of your eyelids, and Kara, sharp as a whistle, acted accordingly. Her lips, soft yet bruising, devoured you at a moment's notice, pulling you in with deceiving memories and false promises, only to demolish them with biting nips and trailing scratches. She tasted of pure possession, each slide of her tongue more demanding than the last. 

She wanted control, and you happily gave it over. 

Kara pulled back, beginning to plant kisses from your mouth down to your neck. She drew you into her mouth, sucking hard enough to have surely left a mark, and you'd have cared if it weren't for the svelte fingers shamelessly working under your dress, rising to the juncture between your thighs to tease your clothed cunt with light touches. 

There was no remorse when your shivers were felt, when your pitiful rendition of a beg was heard or when your hips started to grind down in desperation. The reporter was hell-bent on prolonging the torture. 

Hand on the underside of your knee, Kara encouraged you to wrap a leg around her waist. She hauled it up as if it weighed nothing and held it in place, momentarily allowing you to find some needed friction along the column of her toned stomach. It was then you realised why Kara wanted you to have some leverage. Savagely, your underwear was torn, fabric protesting louder than you did in fear you'd anger your tyrant and be deemed unworthy of her illustrious treatment.

"I want them to hear you," Kara drawled, dipping the tip of her finger inside you. "Hear that you belong to me." 

Instructions clear, she thrust three fingers into your welcoming pussy and began fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. There were no words to describe the ecstasy that was being stretched so abruptly it almost hurt, so you settled for a silent cry instead, gripping onto muscled shoulders for leverage. 

It stung when Kara pushed harder and moved faster, but the tendrils of pleasure did not lessen, circulating through your body and bubbling in your stomach, so you endured. 

Your moans were carrying, spilling out of the room to ricochet and bounce around the high-panelled ceiling and walls of the corridor. The occasional gasp that did reach your ears left you desperately wanting to be ashamed, to do the sensible thing and tell Kara to stop. The embarrassment of exiting the cloakroom and coming face-to-face with the many people who knew exactly what had happened was enough for you to listen to your rational mind. But what remained stronger was the need to chase your impending orgasm. 

That's what made forgetting so easy—the vehement need for ownership being met, even if it was being done in such a precarious place. It's probably why you didn't stop the following words from coming out of your mouth.

"Yours." You wanted her to know. Hell, you wanted everyone to know. So you kept saying it, over and over, louder and louder. "Yours yours, yours, only yours." 

All you could do was continue to pull Kara in, clenching around her fingers, and beg her to go impossibly deeper with the firm grip of your leg and crackling cries. Soon enough, there was no need for Kara to hold you close; you were stuck to her like glue, and the blonde chose to take full advantage.

Her hand lay flat on the wall to gain some leverage, her fingers starting to move so fast they felt like they were vibrating. Soft kisses along your throat became harsh, teeth latching onto skin repeatedly, mercy momentarily shown with soothing slides of a slickened tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew what was happening. The reporter was marking you as hers, and when you left that tiny room, there would be no mistaking it. In the upcoming days, she wanted you to see the bruises staring back at you in the mirror, a warning for you never to forget. Hers. 

"Mine," Kara growled, her voice raspy. 

Your chest was rising and falling alarmingly, your breath short, and your lungs exerted. Everything was moving so fast you scarcely noticed Kara place her thumb over your clit till it was too late, and all that was left to do was gasp so heavily your lungs felt like they may burst. 

With the duel stimulation came the lack of awareness, and it seemed, even for Kara, your volume was rising to a level that would amass too much attention. Her lips found yours, and muffling your cries, she drove her tongue into your mouth.

Her thumb continually ran in circles, each drawing you closer. Your stomach was so tense it felt painful. Still, the persistent waves of satisfaction were worth the strain, and unsurprisingly, in little to no time, you felt the inevitable crest of your orgasm, releasing an open-mouthed gasp against velvet lips. 

You came with a silent cry, your head thrown back and slamming against the wall, forcing Kara to separate her lips from yours. She watched you fall apart in awe, milking you for you had till you were shaking so badly you could scarcely hold yourself up. 

"Keep holding onto me," she whispered, and you obeyed, wrapping your hands around her neck, breathing heavily and dropping your head to her shoulder. With a delicate kiss on your temple, Kara slowed her fingers down to languish thrusts and placed her hand over your ass, taking the majority of your weight. "I've got you." 

Assured there was no chance you would collapse, Kara kept going, continually pulling meek whimpers from you with every curl of her fingers. It felt like your orgasm was never-ending, waves of full-bodied pleasure rippling through your system over and over, burrowing into your skin till it felt like you were on fire. Finally, when a grimace replaced the gratified smile you wore and your moans began to sound more wounded, she stilled, slowly withdrawing from you. 

Weakly looking up, you watched Kara bring her fingers into her mouth and sample your unique taste. Her eyes fluttered shut as the familiar tangy nectar coated her tongue, and a satisfied hum vibrated in her throat. 

Head falling forward, knees still shaky, mind certain, you whispered the only thing that seemed to be running through your head, "Yours." 

Lips to your temple, Kara happily muffled her confirmation, "Mine."

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @camciel | Click here to be added to my taglist

[fairy-writes]

BIRD IN FLIGHT

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Siren!Reader, Myth AU (I referenced the Trojan War in the last part), Enemies to… Something…

Notes: PART TWO TO SIREN SONG 

I’M JUST SAYING THE ITHACA SAGA HAS BEEN ON REPEAT SINCE IT DROPPED

Tag List: @hanniejji

__________________________________________________________________________

Admittedly, Soshiro was in a bit over his head with trying to gain your trust. 

Every time he went down to check on you in your cell, or read to you, or talk to you, you just cowered with a snarl in the corner of the prison they had trapped you in. 

You wouldn’t actively try and escape anymore, but you refused food and water, withering away in your cell. 

Soshiro has to do something. You’d be no good to them for bartering passage if you were dead. 

So he began to think. 

And think. 

And think. 

Until he was struck with an idea. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sir?” Ichikawa Reno asked. He was a newer addition to their crew, much like Kafka, but Kafka was busy, and Soshiro needed help with his idea. 

“Of course not. This could go horribly. But she’s no good to us dead, so it’s worth a shot.” He said as he adjusted the length of rope looped around his arm. 

The stairs down to the brig creak horrendously, quickly alerting you to their presence. It takes Soshiro’s eyes a moment to adjust, but you’re in the corner, as always. Reno swallowed thickly when he saw you and your emaciated body and wings. 

Feathers were scattered around you, and he watched as you took ahold of a feather and plucked it from your wings, letting it fall to the ground. You almost did it again, seemingly entranced by the twirling of the feathers from your fingers when he put the key in the lock and unlocked the cell door. The sound of the key jiggling in the iron lock roused you from your stupor, and your face soured with distrust when you realized who it was. 

You were surprisingly emotive for a creature of myth. Almost human-like. It was almost eerie to see such a pretty face surrounded by feathered hair and sharp teeth.

Reno stepped hesitantly into the cell and shut the door most of the way as he waited for Soshiro’s next move. 

Soshiro crouched in front of you, not stepping on your scattered feathers and just out of your reach in case you tried to attack him.

“I have a proposal for you.” He said, and you merely curled your lip in a snarl. At least, you did until you spotted Reno. Then, your face morphed into one of confusion. 

You were likely wondering why he was here. After all, you hadn’t seen him before, and the list of people who saw you most commonly comprised of Captain Ashiro and Soshiro. Kafka, Aoi, and the ship’s doctor came down to treat your injuries, but even then, that wasn’t a common occurrence. 

So, someone new was probably exciting. 

Soshiro continued speaking. 

“We’re willing to let you out. Supervised, of course, that’s why I have this rope. What do you say?” He said and didn’t miss how you perked up at the mention of being let out. However, almost immediately after, you shrank back when he held out the rope. Soshiro frowned but didn’t scoot closer. The memory of you trying to claw his eyes out was still fresh in his mind. 

“Might I try?” Reno asked, and Soshiro nodded after a moment of hesitation. He handed the rope off to Reno, who took his place and knelt before you. You huddled back warily, one wing drawn in front of you as if trying to protect yourself. You peeked through your feathers with untrusting eyes, but that didn’t sway Reno’s attempt. 

“Can I come closer?” He asked gently, like trying to soothe a spooked animal. Your eyes narrowed, and Soshiro noticed you were rubbing the scar around your throat. But you weren’t attacking or saying no…

Reno picked up on this and shuffled the barest bit closer. 

“What if I tie this around your wrist? Would that be okay?” He asked again and it was then that something changed. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

You spoke. 

Reno looked as shocked as Soshiro felt. But both soldiers recovered quickly, and Reno shrugged. 

“I suppose I feel you could use some kindness.” He said honestly, and now it was your turn to be shocked. Your wing drooped enough so they could both see your astonished expression. 

And then… 

Your eyes began to shine with unshed tears. Reno panicked as Soshiro was left with a feeling he couldn’t quite define in his chest. 

You were slow going up the stairs from the brig to the deck. The pain was evident in your frame as you stepped up the stairs. Soshiro couldn't help but stare at your balding wings as he walked behind you. Reno held the rope as he walked ahead, just in case. But Soshiro had the feeling that you wouldn’t be able to fly any time soon. 

Not with your wings the way they were. 

If they even healed.

All conversation ceased on deck when you reached the top of the stairs. Almost immediately, you shrank back and bumped into Soshiro, who had come up behind you. You winced, though you tried to hide it, as he aggravated your healing injuries. You looked back to glare, but he didn’t let that stop him from smiling in your direction, 

“Are you going to go up and get some fresh air? I imagine the brig is awfully stuffy.” He said and could see the resolve steeling in your bird-like pupils. 

You squared your shoulders, pulling them back as much as the bandages and scabs would let you, and walked out into the sunlight. 

The relief in your shoulders as you step into the ocean air is palpable. Your wings, which had been held high and proud behind you, dropped in a sudden calm. Even your hands, which were tied in front of you, relaxed in their bonds. 

Reno tied the other end of the rope to the mast while he was instructed to return to his work. Soshiro was ordered by Captain Ashiro to watch you. So he sat on a barrel of rations as he studied you. Slowly, everyone went back to their duties, and soon, you were ignored. 

Soshiro had the feeling that was how you preferred it. 

He watched you watch everyone else with curiosity. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the ship and everyone on it. You even sat down of your own volition and not because there was nothing else to do, like when you were back in your cell. You sat with your back against the mast, feet curled beneath you so you were out of the way of tramping boots and those scrubbing the deck. 

It didn’t take long for Soshiro to get up and approach you. You flinched with surprise as he sat down beside you and looked at him incredulously. 

“Figured you might want some company.” He teased and you just rolled your eyes.

But… You didn’t scoot away.

This became somewhat regular for you. You’d be bound by your wrists and brought up to the deck, where you were tied to the mast and allowed to watch the people working. You started to eat and drink again. 

Soshiro found you absolutely fascinating. 

You recoiled from his touch, yet you looked like you wanted to interact with him and his fellow humans. You eventually got to the point where he could touch your wings to check the splints, yet you wouldn’t let him touch your scars. 

He wondered why. 

He got his answer one night when he was at his post while everyone slept in the belly of the ship. You were tied at the helm of the boat while he used the stars to navigate them home. They had been nearing the land of sirens for days now. He could see the craggy rocks where your sisters resided. 

Was he ready to let you go? 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” You asked, and Soshiro jolted in surprise. You spoke little, if at all. Your voice was rough from disuse and the injuries marring your throat. 

“Because we need you to barter passage through siren territory.” He said. He didn’t see any point in lying. But his resolve wavered when you barked out a harsh laugh. 

“That’ll just get you slaughtered. Why do you think I was in the water in the first place? We aren’t exactly close.” You bite out, and he frowns. 

“I thought sirens lived in flocks?” He said, and you shrugged, tilting your head back to look at the stars you passed under.

Soshiro looked up too, able to name the constellations used to guide them home. 

“Typically, we are. But not when you’re different, apparently.” You mutter under your breath, and it is then that the dots connected. 

“Did your sisters give you those scars and injuries?” He asked, and you stiffened. The splints had been taken off your wings at this point, and the feathers shifted uneasily behind your back. 

Eventually, you nod, somewhat upset that he figured it out. 

“I’m sorry,” He said and could see out of the corner of his eye how your head jerked up in surprise. 

“Why are you sorry?” You snap, and he shrugs. Flashes of his family pass behind his eyes. 

“I suppose I know what it’s like to not live up to the expectations of others. Or to be different. I’m… Not on the best terms with my family.” He said, and now it’s your turn to frown. 

“I’m… Sorry…” You say awkwardly, and he laughs out loud. 

“Don’t be. I got my own little family right here.” He said, gesturing to the boat where he could hear the wood creaking and the faint snores of his fellow soldiers.

For whatever reason, you looked sad. 

Things came to a head when they finally passed through the land of sirens. 

It was quiet at first. Soshiro didn’t see anyone or anything in the rock caves. But as the helmsman steered the ship past craggy outcroppings of stone, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

They were being watched. 

You could tell, too. Hunkered down under the stairs that led to the helm, and your wings were pinned tightly against your back. Soshiro kept his hand on the pommel of his sword and wedged some beeswax in his ears. He had heard about a siren’s song. The mystical ability to sing and hypnotize a sailor and bring them to their doom. 

He wasn’t sure why you hadn’t done that to him when you initially woke up, but he had the feeling it had to do with what your sisters did to you. 

He wasn’t even sure the wax in his ears would work. But it was worth a shot. 

And suddenly—There! Just on the edge of his hearing! A noise!

And it was then that the boat came to a stop, and the soldiers around him dropped their weapons. Captain Ashiro looked on blankly, her sword slipping from her hands as she fell under the siren’s spell. 

All the while, Soshiro watched on. 

He tightened his grip and drew his sword as the first siren dive bombed the ship. 

The scaly talons dug into the helmsman’s shoulders and yanked him off the ship. There wasn’t a scream or cry for help. Just silence as you cowered under the stairs. 

And then… They all came at once. 

Soshiro cut down siren after siren, but he didn’t have the time to put wax in anyone’s ears as they were pulled from the ship to their deaths.

A pair of talons dug through Soshiro’s armor like it was nothing but butter and lifted him from the ship. He slashed and cut, but the siren wasn’t like you. This siren was well-fed and strong. Her wings had a healthy sheen, and she actually had all her feathers. 

At least until you stepped in. 

He heard a guttural screech that he knew all too well, and suddenly, he was plummeting to the deck. 

What? 

He looked up and rolled to the side a split second before the siren hit the deck, missing one of her wings. Soshiro scooped up his sword and prepared to cut her down, but you were on her in a second. The two of you rolled and flailed and scratched and bit until you came out on top. 

The other siren didn’t move. 

You threw your head back and let out a deafening screech that he heard even through the wax in his ears. 

And… One by one… The sirens left.

The remaining crew seemingly snapped out of the spell and looked around, confused. 

You had protected them. 

Protected him. 

And it was beautiful. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Things not pictured because I’m not smart in fitting things in:

-Narumi Gen

-You trying to rip off Narumi’s head

-Just shenanigans with Narumi in general.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.