#thanks S for the blessing and for writing this wonderful fic

[jtl07]

There is devastating ugliness in this world, she knows. She’s neither naïve nor ignorant, and she confronts it the best way she can, everything horrid and terrifying and grotesque. War, poverty, illness, anger, pain, and so much death. Her eyes burn. But there also has to be hope. There must be hope, because there is this: the sunrise spills over the mountains first, white snow turning golden, darkness yielding easily to light, the air around her warming slowly. There is her: breath stolen, feet rooted, suspended and unmoving. For as ruthless as it is to live on this greedy and grief-stricken earth, the world has always held steadfast, has always pushed back, has always asked to be looked upon. The sky, the sea, everything that soaks up the sun, everything else that thrives defiantly in the dark – all of it asking, can you see? All this beauty, all for you. ... Look out, look up, look. Breathe. Let beauty do what it does best: stop you in your tracks, remind you that we are capable of so much more than death and destruction, and make you wish that your small, silly hands could hold something without breaking it. And maybe—just maybe—it could make a difference.

- @snowandwolves, leave the light on (i'll find my way home)

[bokunoheros]

LIPSTICK STAINS & MIRRORS

CHARACTER: SHOUTO TODOROKI

GENRE: FLUFF, SMUT

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but written to be afab (shouto calls you princess once), reader is implied to be shorter than shouto, y’all are like 20+, married and live together, mirror sex, kissing, so much kissing, i love kissing, oral (m. receiving), fingering (reader receiving),  inappropriate quirk usage (temperature play), shouto is a tease but in a loving manner, cervix kissing, chair sex, riding (reverse cowgirl), cumming inside, and aftercare, also kinda lazy ending?? bc i stayed up til 10am finishing this and wanna be done so bad

SUMMARY: you just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss and can’t wait to try it out — subsequently, your husband thinks you look beautiful, but doesn’t know how to verbalize it. 

WORD COUNT: 7.7K

🦊’s A/N: this wasn’t actually going to be the first fic i posted here, but i DID just get a bunch of lipgloss i've waited a week and a half for, and would love to do the following <3 anyway shoutout judydoll they didn’t sponsor this but i wish they would. // also i pulled like two all-nighters writing this so i’m sorry if it like. starts unraveling a lil at the end i didnt actually proofread this god bless everyone thank you for giving this fic a chance

you had just ordered a bunch of new lipgloss you’d gotten in a buy 2 get 1 free sale, and it had finally come in the mail! after squealing excitedly and startling your poor husband, and highschool sweetheart, you quickly ran up to your shared bedroom and sat down in front of your vanity. fumbling with the box for a second, you get up to grab a pair of scissors from the bathroom before using one blade to cut through the packaging tape sealing the contents inside away. 

once you’d managed to get your greedy little hands on the new products is around the same time shouto had wandered into the bedroom, where he stood leaning against the door frame, watching as you excitedly looked down at your lipstick and wondered which one to try on first.

hm……. maybe the more natural looking color instead of the red..? probably, since it's less likely to leave a stain, you think to yourself, oblivious to your husband's presence — until you caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, that is. 

“oh! shouto, just in time,” you grin, waving him over. “which one do you think i should try first?” you ask, knowing he had always shown an interest in the process of how you did your makeup. not that he had actually verbalized said interest, rather, it was something you noticed while you were still in highschool. after months into the actual relationship, you two had finally had sex and you had stayed the night at his house. once this became an almost routine of sorts, you'd begin bringing stuff to stay overnight, and get ready for class in the morning, including a few makeup palettes. and so, shouto slowly took an interest in the way in which you’d do your makeup — be it just some eyeshadow/liner, or a fully beat face, he found it to be so…..interesting. 

that being said, the youngest of the todoroki family takes a step towards you and away from the doorframe to look down at the lipsticks in your hands and picks the one in the shiny silver, almost holographic, tube and says this one. 

huh, what do you know? he had picked the lipstain! guess it’s meant to be, then.

untwisting the cap, you shift in your seat slightly to better face the mirror as you pull the wand from the bottle, and find yourself face to face with the applicator you had been tweaking over for what felt like ever — a nice, smooth, iron tip! one of a kind, really, as you had never seen anything like it before! looking into the mirror, your gaze lingers on shouto for but a moment before focusing on your own lips and applying the stained lipgloss evenly — and then one more coat for good measure. 

“what do you think?” you ask sweetly, turning around in your seat to face him.

what he thinks? obviously, he thinks you look stunningly, jaw droppingly gorgeous regardless of what you’re wearing, or if you have makeup on or not (save for the times you’ve ugly cried around him…), but god…. he can’t ignore the way his body suddenly feels flushed as he looks at your lips and the red-ish color currently staining them.

“i think — it looks nice,” he says simply as he takes a few steps closer to you, up until he’s directly behind your vanity chair and planting his hands on the back of it.

“just… nice?” your voice comes out softer than normal, and you sound audibly disappointed. at this, shouto begins to internally panic as he thinks of a way to get his admiration.

“very nice,” he corrects quickly, and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle at how rushed he sounded — you understood that your husband wasn’t exactly a stellar wordsmith, so you weren’t actually too upset with him.

“that’s it?” this time, you sound much more lighthearted, as you raise a brow at him and watch him speedrun the five stages of grief through his expressions and slight body language.

“....i think, you look very lovely,” he’s finally able to vocalize. even after all this time, he still got somewhat bashful when complimenting you — it wasn’t his fault! you just happened to render him speechless and left his dick hard every time you did anything! fuck… how should he go about this? maybe he should just show you what he thinks? yes…. that should work. 

“stand up,” he says all of a sudden — he didn’t sound demanding or rude or anything, but there was a certain firmness to his voice that had you obeying without a second thought. without a moment of hesitation, shouto steps around to the side of the chair so he’s standing almost in front of you, and plants his large, calloused hands on your hips.

“shouto….” your voice comes out as a mere whisper as he pulls you closer toward him, left hand coming to cup your cheek as you look up at him.

“hm?” is all you get in reply as he leans in to kiss you tenderly.

tilting his head slightly to the side, he slots his lips over your painted ones in hopes of properly conveying his feelings on how he thinks you look. truthfully, as embarrassing as it may be, shouto wishes you’d put some lipstick on him so he could kiss you all over and leave a physical mark as you so often did to him. maybe one day he would have to sneak some of your lipgloss for himself to surprise you with? perchance… (you can’t just say perchance!) that being said, he takes advantage of the lipstick you’re currently wearing and hopes it transfers onto his lips. 

and just like that, you’ve forgotten all about your new lipstick, or anything that wasn’t your husband, really. when you first met him, it was a little difficult to imagine shouto todoroki as a good kisser, and it was kinda true initially!, but after a little guidance and experience, he very quickly got the hang of it and used his newfound skills to turn you into nothing more than a panting mess.

swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips, he pulls away with a slight grin just as you part them for him.

“hey…..” you whine. “that’s not fair.” 

“what isn’t?” he asks in a way that would’ve made you think he was playing dumb if he wasn’t….. well, like the way he was. you know your husband well enough to know that he was asking an earnest question, as he often teased you without meaning to or being aware of it.

“just… kiss me again, …please?” you ask in such a saccharine voice, shouto finds himself unable to resist for even a moment as he eagerly leans back in for another kiss.

god…. he was just so fucking weak when it came to You. he could never tell you no or deny you of what you asked for — hell, the first time you asked if you could kiss him (when he was still a kissless virgin), he accidentally bonked his head against yours in trying to copy the way you tilted your head to the side. …only, he had tilted his in the same direction as you, making for a very awkward, very laughable (but memorable) first kiss.

“mmh,” he hums quietly, pleasurably, as his lips work against yours — gently and tenderly, full of nothing but adoration for you, his sweet spouse. 

there just truly weren’t enough words in the world for shouto to describe his affections for you, so instead, he often took to showing you exactly how he felt; more often than not, this led to fleeting but heated kisses throughout the day that left you on your toes and wanting for more. jesus, did he even realize the effect he had on you? (he did Nawt.) 

this time, it was you to take the initiative to swipe your tongue over his plump lower lip before nibbling on it lightly and sucking it into your mouth. at this, the softest little moan slips past shouto’s throat at the feeling and he pulls you closer to him, so much so that your chest was now flush against his as the hand on your cheek leaves a cooling sensation against your flushed skin. 

releasing his lip with a wet, almost schliiick kind of noise, you go to pull away from the kiss, just as he had done earlier, just to find the hand on your cheek had shifted to cradle the back of your head, and the hand on your hip had turned into an arm wrapped tightly around your waist as shouto’s tongue manages to slip into your open mouth.

you can’t help but giggle at the almost ticklish feeling of the wet muscle running around the inside of your cheeks before his tongue is suddenly ice cold and you’re squealing and trying to push him away.

“shouto!” you cry with no real irritation or upsetness — all he had done was catch you off-guard, really. okay, so maybe he could tease you on purpose every now and then..! it just wasn’t often that he did such a thing! he was typically kind of oblivious to a lot of things — not that it was his fault or anything; he hadn’t exactly grown up with the best social cues or …. uhm. family, in general, really….. (touya and enji i’m looking at you). 

“yeah?” he breathes, looking down at you with stars in his eyes.

“what was that about?” you ask, trying to steady your breathing, chest heaving slightly as your hands find their way up to his chest, where they rest on his boo—well defined and muscled pecs. 

“what was what about?” he echoes, tilting his head, actually playing dumb this time—he knew damn well what he had done this time around, and he couldn’t contain the little smile that tugged at the corners of his plump and almost pouty lips. he loved using his quirk to tease you — given, he’d been extremely hesitant about it at first, worried he might hurt you, or somehow cause some kind of permanent damage. thankfully, as the years went by, he gradually warmed up to it, and now? he couldn’t get enough of your reactions! like when he was fingering you, and suddenly his hand started to get a little too hot, or a little too cold, depending on which one he was using; it wasn’t enough to actually hurt or cause any damage, just some mild discomfort turned to pleasure once you got used to the feeling. and sometimes, whenever you let him cum inside or somewhere on you, his cum felt hotter than it should — sure, yeah, cum is warm, but…. his was just hot! it didn’t scald or anything, but it was definitely an added sensation that wouldn’t be possible without his quirk.

“you know what..!” is what you would have said had shouto not leaned in to kiss you again—effectively cutting you off and rendering you speechless. so maybe he knew he was a good kisser; he was highly observant after all, and would have to be a moron to not realize that he at least left you breathless every time! sure, he didn’t realize the full extent of the effect he had on you, but… partially aware is better than completely oblivious, right? 

this time as you two kiss, the hand cradling your head moves back down to your hip, and before you know it, he’s picking you up and sitting himself down in the chair you were previously sitting on not too long ago. 

“ah–!” you gasp at the sudden movement and change in position. now straddling his lap, with your back to the mirror, shouto begins trailing kisses down to your jawline and then the column of your neck. now, your husband wasn’t a particularly sloppy kisser. no, more often than not, he was very put together in almost every aspect of his life, and the bedroom was no exception. well, save for the occasions shouto just simply could not contain himself, and it was beginning to seem like one of those situations as he runs his freezing tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to form as he nibbles at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. 

“sho–shouto—,” you breathe as he peppers kisses over your tender flesh. it had taken him a long while to be able to show affection so freely, and even now, he still had some trouble, but compared to the todoroki you knew in high school, he had improved by leaps and bounds! 

your husband merely ignores your soft cry of his name—his dick doesn’t, though, and you can even feel it start to twitch to life beneath you. fuck. all you had done was put on a little lipstick, and?? now your husband was glued to your neck, nipping and biting along the way, even stopping in a couple places to suck against the skin there in order to leave a couple hickies! 

“don’t tease,” you try to chide him, but it comes off weak and a little pathetic sounding as shouto finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and takes full advantage of it. jesus christ! his tongue was so cold!! it was such a contrast to the heat of his breath, you couldn’t help but pant at the feeling. 

“‘m not,” is the only thing he says, it was more of a mumble, really, as he bites down harder than he had previously, and you can’t help the squeal that leaves you as his teeth sink into your skin.

“shouto!” if you didn’t know any better, or if you had married someone more… aggressive (katsuki)...., you might have thought your husband had drawn blood — he didn’t, obviously, as he would never intentionally hurt you, but he did like to toe the line of pleasure and pain often enough to keep you on your toes, just enough pain for it to be able to bleed into an acquired type of pleasure.

“yeah?” he all but hums in response, sounding pleased with himself.

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, however, as he quickly pulls away from your neck to plant another heated kiss to your glossy lips. it doesn’t last very long, though, as he pulls away just far enough to look at you properly, and his eyes widen when he sees the way your lipstick had been smudged and it had spread slightly down to your neck (it was more like lightly red-colored patches in the shape of his lips peppered vaguely over your flesh). 

“will you put on some more lipstick?” he suddenly asks, sounding out of breath.

giggling quietly at his request, you nod and oblige, shifting to turn around on his lap so that your back was against his chest, and your ass against his steadily growing erection. grabbing the tube of lipstick from your vanity, you untwist the cap and begin to apply more, focusing wholly on your lips during the process, completely missing the way shouto was eyeing you in the mirror.

after putting the cap back on and setting the silver bottle full of what felt watery liquid when you put it on, but wasn’t actually, back down on your vanity’s surface, you tilt your head to face your husband, who had wrapped his arms around your waist while you had been applying the aforementioned beauty product, and smile at him.

“better?” you wonder aloud, knowing it was much better indeed.

“mhmm,” he hums sweetly, one hand coming up to all but squish your cheeks, just without the pressure, to better tilt your head towards him as he himself leans in for yet another kiss. you swear, the first time you kissed shouto, a switch flipped in that poor boy’s brain, because ever since then, he’s been addicted to them like they’re crack—he needs your kisses the same way he needs oxygen to breathe or a therapist for his generations of trauma stuffed into a single, incomplete lifetime. (please….. please, go to group therapy with the rest of 1-a, i’m begging.) 

shouto can’t help but smile against your lips as he pulls you flush against his chest and rolls his hips, and consequently, his hard-on, up against your ass. neither of you can contain the whimper or little gasp that slips past your throats, nor can you help the way one of your hands comes up to thread itself into his peppermint-colored hair as you part your lips needily, trying to shift around in his firm grasp. 

despite the quality of your lipstick, it still transferred partially onto his lips, simply due to how fresh the coat was, not that your husband minds. he’d revel in the way he’d get to smear lipstick over your body, and — pause. his hands suddenly find themselves planted on your hips as he manhandles you to face him again, and meets your gaze for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead. but in that moment, you could see all the love and admiration in the world swirling around in his beautifully mismatched eyes, and you couldn’t control the wide-ass smile that had spread across your face—so wide, in fact, your cheeks hurt. even though it was such a simple action, you could truly feel his love for you in everything that he did. 

“i love you—so much, y’know,” you practically coo, hands moving to cup his flushed cheeks as you simply just look at the man you had married. goddamn! he was so beautiful! taking in all the fine details of his face, you notice the faintest little dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and the way even his eyebrows, and even his awfully long lashes (he got them from his mother), are different colors. his perfectly plump and pouty lips to match his overall softer facial features. how could anybody be so perfect-looking? it was just simply unfair! even with his ice burn scar and somewhat sparse left eyebrow growth, it didn’t change a thing in your eyes. 

shouto feels his heart flutter at your words, and his grin stretches to be almost uncharacteristically wide as his hands shift lower on your hips, closer to your upper thighs, and his thumbs begin rubbing tender circles against the plush flesh there. 

“i — love you more,” he whispers back. the words sound shy coming from him, but you can tell he means his words. you may have fallen first, but shouto fell harder. his smile softens a bit as his hands move up to cup your cheeks tenderly before pressing another kiss to your painted lips. god. he truly could not believe how lucky he was to have you — you, who brought him out of his shell back in highschool, you who showed him love can be tender and soft, you who taught him how to let love into his heart. 

now, it was shouto’s turn to show you just how much he loved you.

sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, he lets out a soft hum as he grips your thighs before sliding his hands slowly upwards and up under the t-shirt you wore—it was his, actually!—and over your bare ribcage. you can’t help the goosebumps that broke out over your skin at the feeling of his calloused hands against your much softer flesh, nor the chill that runs down your spine and causes your nipples to stiffen under the thin fabric—especially with the way he begins to palm and grope at your tits. 

“mmnh,” you hum at the temperature difference of his rough hands, and let out a soft moan when it increases drastically all of a sudden, your right nipple freezing cold and the left a little too hot for comfort—even your body was unsure of how to react to such a feeling, but it sure does send a throb down to your clit, and you can feel a damp spot begin to form in the seat of your panties, which is all you happened to be wearing under your stolen shirt.

“shouto, please,” you whine, squirming around on his lap, and dragging your thinly clothed cunt over the erection in his stupid grey sweatpants that always drove you crazy. 

“please what, love?” he asks, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. 

“god…. just— fuck me,” is all your able to get out, but, lucky for you, your husband has something even better in mind than just that. sure, he couldn’t wait to get his dick wet—to feel the way your cunt wraps around his sensitive tip—god, he can feel himself leak pre-cum like he’s some excited teenager again, and he groans at the nature of your request.

“mm, …not yet,” he smirks, and, before he’s even processed what he himself is doing, he had already licked an embarrassingly hot stripe up the length of your neck.

“shouto!” you squeal. “what was that for?!” 

“felt like it,” he replies simply before attaching his full lips to your neck once more, where he began nipping and nibbling at all your most tender spots, before he finds your sweet spot and bites down particularly hard and begins suckling against the skin there, determined to leave a mark of sorts. now, while shouto was not one to leave marks in obvious places—he was perfectly content with marking you in places only he could see—he just couldn't help himself for some reason..! maybe it was because he was feeling rather bold at the moment, or because he couldn't get enough of the sweet, quiet noises you were making as he nipped and sucked at your flesh until you were sure the skin was raw. 

“sho—” you can’t help but wiggle in his lap, cunt grazing over his erection. when he groans at your actions, you repeat your actions, rolling your hips down against his as he marks your neck up in pretty blue and purple and reddish hues. 

suddenly, an idea pops into your mind, and you find yourself melting off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs, eager hands reaching to unbuckle his leather belt and pull it off of him. 

“wh–what’re you doing, baby?” shouto finds himself breathless with a flushed face as you begin to unbutton his pants and tug down the zipper, exposing his all-too-tight black boxers and the wet spot that had formed on them. you only grin and lick your lips at the sight, of course, eager to get your husband’s perfect cock in your mouth.

“what’s it look ‘m doin’, huh?” you look up at him with big wet eyes and pouty red lips. “now lift your hips f’me,” you instruct him, and he does as told, so you can tug his pants and boxers down in one swift go.

shouto hisses as his sensitive tip comes into contact with the cool air of the bedroom, and he looks down at you a little embarrassedly, biting as lower lip as you kissed his swollen and flushed head before taking it slowly into your mouth. 

“ah–!” your husband moans as you suckle around his mushroom-headed tip and he can’t help the way one large hand falls down to rest on top of your head, long fingers burying themselves into your hair as he begins to set a moderate pace for you to bob your head. unfortunately, poor shouto still had trouble controlling his reactions whenever you gave him head — your mouth and tongue were simply too skilled for your own good! for his own good! 

tilting his head back to look at the ceiling instead of you, in an attempt to not bust too early, he catches a glimpse of the lewd sight in the mirror and—oh god. his dick fucking twitches and he feels an embarrassing amount of pre-cum leak from his sticky tip and into your hot mouth. 

“jesus christ—fuck,” your husband groans—it wasn’t too often that he swore, only when he was especially mad, passionate, or, in this case, especially horny. “take it easy, honey—please,” he whines, hand gripping your hair tighter, forcing your head further down his thick length despite his contradictory words. you pay his actions no mind, however, only doing your best to suppress your gag reflex and hollow your cheeks out around him before swallowing thickly; you even went as far as to deepthroat him all the way, uncaring of the way drool seeped past your lips and all around the base of his cock. swallowing around him again once his leaky tip hits the back of your throat, and shouto’s hand grips your hair a little too tightly—not that you minded in the moment. if anything, it made your pussy throb. as did the way he was panting and moaning softly above you. god…… his little noises were absolutely divine and each and every one sent a jolt to your clit. 

much to his embarrassment, shouto is surprisingly noisy in bed — not exactly loud per se, but certainly unable to contain all his little huffs, puffs, and soft moans and quiet groans. but it wasn’t like it was his fault! how exactly was he supposed to stay quiet when you’re making him feel so damn good? jesus, it wasn’t fair! for him, anyway; for you, his sweet sounds only made you all the more hot and bothered. 

his gaze falls down to meet yours, and then further down to his dick and the way your glossy lips wrapped around it and the fucking lipstick stains you were leaving around him. how was he meant to last like this? (here’s a hint: he wasn’t!) 

pushing against his hand for a moment, he lessens his grip as you pull off him with a sickening schliiickk noise and wrap one hand around his base as you pant for air, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. 

“shouto?”

“yeah?” his heart is pounding and he bites his lip as he looks down at your flushed face that now had a thin sheen of sweat over it, and he feels almost ashamed for the way he immediately craves your mouth back around him.

“i want you to cum in my mouth, okay?” you tell him with a soft smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before taking him into your mouth once again, all the way down until your nose was flush against his mix-matched pubic hair and you had to actively breathe through your nose so you didn’t hurl. shallowly beginning to bob your head, your tongue laves over the underside of his veiny cock as the hand previously wrapped around him moves to cup his balls, fondling them softly before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“oh—sweetheart,” he moans, dick twitching violently in your mouth. “don’t stop,” he all but begs you, rolling his hips up, forcing himself further down your throat. you actually do gag at this, but are able to swallow most of your excessive drool down, only some of it spilling over and out of your mouth and onto to your husband’s dick, mixing beautifully with your lipstick stains, and poor todoroki groans at both the sight and feeling.

all it takes is a few more bobs of your head and another squeeze to his balls before they’re tightening and suddenly he’s cumming down your throat—just like you had asked him to. god, he swears you’ll be the death of him!

swallowing around his awfully sensitive length one final time, both to tease him and get his cum down, you pull off of him with another disgustingly wet noise before looking up at him oh-so-sweetly.

the hand that wasn’t still fondling his balls comes to wrap around his dick, pumping it slowly as you press a little kiss to his flushed and shiny tip, licking it playfully and swirling your tongue around it for a moment before you actually stopped teasing his cock with your mouth and just with your hand.

“baby, please—” his voice is uncharacteristically whiney and his hips buck up into your grasp. despite his natural temperature regulation due to his quirk, shouto finds his entire body feeling hot, so hot, thanks to your delicate touch. “just—ah!” he moans softly as your hand begins moving up and down his shaft slowly, moving up and up until you could place your thumb over the slit of his red and swollen head and run it over the horribly sensitive spot. 

“god–damn, sweetheart—give me a moment, please,” he begs you, hips bucking upwards as his cock twitches simultaneously. shouto feels like he’s losing his mind as you pump his oversensitive length and he has to keep his eyes away from the mirror lest he nut again—no, the next time he came today, it would be inside you, his beautiful fucking spouse. “just let me breathe.” one of his large hands comes up to run through his hair and push his bangs out of his face just for them to fall right back in place once it exits his hair. 

with a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you blow a puff of cold air over his cockhead and let out a playful okay. 

“i guess,” you giggle, looking up at him from your spot on the floor. it’s true that your knees were starting to get a little sore, but you figured you were basically done anyway, so, naturally, you went to stand—just for shouto’s massive hands to land on your hips, up under your shirt, and turn you around so that you’re facing the mirror before tugging your panties down to your now reddened knees in one swift movement.

pulling you onto his lap, his painfully hard cock pressed into the crack of your ass, you whine and squirm in your husband’s strong grasp.

“b-baby?” you sound audibly confused and shouto can’t help but smile at your reaction as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“shh,” he hushes you gently, one hand coming down between your legs to stop and rest on your clit. 

“sho-shouto,” you can’t help but whine as he applies a slow but firm pressure to your achy bundle of nerves, gently starting to trace teasing circles over it.

“can’t i make you feel good, too?” he whispers into your ear, catching your gaze in the mirror. his heterochromatic eyes are glued to the reflection of yours and you feel a chill run down your spine as he nuzzles his nose against your neck as his middle finger dips down to your dripping slit before bringing it back up to rub against your pulsing clit.

“ah!” an airy breath escapes you and your back arches at his calloused touch. “fuck,” you hiss as he begins pressing soft kisses to the already brusing flesh of your neck and finger moves with experience over your slick button. 

the first several times you two slept together, shouto was rather shy, and not particularly bold — always scared he was going to hurt you somehow or fuck up your pleasure, and then you’d want nothing to do with him; so it took a bit of instruction and teaching him what it is you do and don’t like, but shouto, ever the fast learner, quickly caught on and figured out what exactly he had to do and how he had to do it in order for you to feel good. 

“that’s what i like to hear,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you, nibbling on the lobe of your ear before blowing a puff of cold air onto it. todoroki could never get enough of the noises you made — the same way you couldn’t get enough of his whimpers and whines — and would do anything in his power to elicit such sweet sounds from you.

“sh-shut up,” is all you’re able to get out, unable to think as he brings his middle finger back down to your slit and actually inserts it into you this time — fingering you in the lightest, most teasing manner possible, while he heats up his hand, his right arm wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place.

shouto just chuckles at your poor attempt at a quip as he licks a chilly stripe up the column of your neck, causing you to shiver as a devious grin stretches over your husband’s usually sweet face. 

“oh, honey,” his voice is low and deep and admittedly makes your pussy clench around the single finger stuffed in it — god, you wish he’d add a second or third to actually stretch you out. and, almost as if he had read your thoughts, shouto curls his finger inside of you before pulling it out about halfway so he could slide another in until—he just stops, one finger half way in you with the tip of another barely poking at your entrance. 

“sho–shouto?” you all but whine, hips wiggling futilely, wishing he’d just scissor your cunt open already!

“look in the mirror,” he commands softly. nodding hesitantly, you reluctantly look at your reflection and take in the lewdness of the scene: shouto had your legs spread out over his, keeping them open by borderline entwining your lower legs with his, with his thick ring and middle fingers positioned against your cunt, and his chin now resting on your shoulder, piercing gaze capturing your own. 

as he finally begins easing his ring finger into along with the one already in there, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, and just like that, any movement stops.

“i didn’t tell you to close your eyes,” he mutters, right hand coming up to slip under your shirt and pinch a nipple. 

“ah! ‘m sorry!” your eyes immediately fly open as you try to focus your gaze on the sight in front of you as shouto’s fingers get progressively hotter the further they slip into you, and suddenly—you were burning from the inside out!

“mmh, shouto….” you whine, one hand coming up to tangle into his hair, giving it a light tug. 

your husband merely ignores you as he focuses on pleasing you instead; curling his all too hot fingers at just the right angle, spreading them apart to scissor your pretty pussy, his eyes trained on your reflection and each little way you react to his touch—the way you flinch and try to close your legs, just for him to effortlessly prevent this by spreading his a little wider. god; he had learned to be a little too good at this for your own good. 

“nngh—, c’mon baby, don’ be a tease,” is all you’re able to get out as your husband takes his goddamn time fingering you; this couldn’t even be considered as finger-fucking! the feeling of the calloused pads of his heated fingertips rubbing against your already hot inner walls as he pumps them slowly—your internal temperature felt like it was skyrocketing, when in reality, it was only one or two degrees higher, something shouto could easily remedy should he switch hands. 

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about, lovely,” he smiles gently, beginning to pepper kisses along your neck once more. fuck, you coudn’t stand when he played dumb like that — he had to have known what he was doing!! (and he did! that just wasn’t for you to know.) “if there’s something you want…. then you’ll have to ask for it directly, my dear,” he tells you cheekily, and you can physically feel his smile against your skin as he begins to suck against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

god! damn him! 

“f-faster,” you whine, wiggling and rolling your hips against his slow moving fingers, just for shouto to pull them nearly all the way out of you. “sh–shouto! goddammit! please don’t tease me!” you plead, eyes beginning to lightly water over out of sheer frustration. tugging at his hair, you try to twist around enough to give him another kiss — just for him to avoid your lips, too!

“uh-uh,” he chides, his freezing free hand pinching one of your nipples, and you gasp louder than you would have liked to at the feeling. “watch yourself in the mirror ‘n ask nicely and you can have anything you want, princess,” shouto says softly, physically unable to stop smiling. sure, most of the time, his teasing was truly unintentional, the other half of the time (a little less than half, really, it was closer to 60/40) was completely on purpose, as hearing you whine his name or for him to touch you never failed to turn him on or bring a somewhat sadistic smile to his usually stoic face. 

nodding, you refocus your attention onto the large vanity mirror, with the chair scooted far back enough so you could clearly see his fingers buried in your glistening cunt, and you physically can’t control the whimper that slips past your throat as his index and pinky fingers move to spread your slick folds apart so you could get a better view of what shouto thought was the most perfect pussy in the world—ever since you’d first had sex (despite his initial nerves), he had quickly grown addicted to the feeling of your cunt wrapped oh-so-snuggly around him. 

finally, your husband finally began to finger you in earnest, crooking his fingers in such a delicious way so deep inside you—much further than your own fingers could ever reach, anyway—and suddenly you wish it was his dick filling you up, not just his fingers..! unbeknownst to you, this was both shouto’s brief way of giving his sensitive cock a rest so he could fuck you properly without creaming too early and making sure you’d get to cum twice, too.

“you’re so tense,” his voice has a saccharine lilt to it, and you feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as he watches the way his fingers pump in and out of you, and he can feel his length twitch and drool pre as he imagines your cunt fluttering around his dick instead of his fingers.

“‘s not my fault—you’re not exactly making it easy f’me to relax,” you complain, shifting around in his grip as you give his hair a light tug. 

“oh? i’m not?” his gentle smile stretches into a shit eating grin as he slides his fingers out of you entirely before bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick your slick off the digits that had been nearly knuckle-deep inside you less than a moment ago, except—he only sucks off his ring finger, leaving the middle one for you to suck on instead, bringing it up to your plump, glossy lips whilst softly telling you to open your mouth. of course, you obeyed without a second thought, happily, and almost hazily, swirling your tongue around his finger in a similar manner you had done with his cock. the action reminded shouto of such, and he lets out a quiet groan at the feeling.

“mmh,” you hum pleasantly around the digit that was pressing down lightly against your tongue. you weren’t too pleased, however, about the lack of stimulation your pussy was receiving, and you decided to make this known to your husband.

catching his eye in the mirror, you let out a little whine and wrap both your hands around his thick wrist as you purposely let the drool in your mouth build up so it begins to seep down his hand and slowly trickle onto his forearm. 

“baby, please. please just fuck me,” you mumble, tugging on his wrist to pull his calloused, slick finger from you spit-soaked mouth. 

shouto really was planning to finger you to an orgasm, honest, but—when you asked so sweetly, he just couldn’t say no to you!

“fuck,” he groans, both hands quickly settling onto your hips in order to lift you enough to align your soaked slit with his flushed and achy cock. “y’know i can’t tell you no when you ask like that,” he says before letting you slowly sink all the way to the base. 

“you feel so good,” he groans out as your puffy pussy wraps around him tightly.

“s–so do you,” you whine out, feeling his head kiss the entrance to your cervix. jesus christ, how was it possible to hit so deep? “s-so, so good,” you tell him, trying to look at the two of you in the mirror and the way your cunt envelopes him and—it’s just too embarrassing to look at! 

squirming in his grasp, you try to turn around to better face him so you could plant a kiss to his plump lips. shouto, however, simply uses one large hand to squish your cheeks and hold your face in place to watch as he lazily fucks up into in the mirror. no matter how bad he wanted to kiss you (that would have to come (cum) after you), he just enjoyed that flustered look on your face too much to not indulge in it! besides, he was always so sweet to you, he’s sure you can handle some light teasing. 

“aa–ahh! sh-shouto! fuck!” you cry as he begins bouncing you up and down his needy dick. you whimper at the way he throbs inside you and your cunt clenches tightly around him—making your husband groan loudly too. “sho–!” it’s all you can do to look into the mirror at the lewd sight, and embarrassingly enough, it only serves to turn you on even more.

“hmm?” it’s all he can do to hum out a response as he keeps you moving up and down, strong arms moving with ease as he rhythmically rolls his hips up into yours. “what—” he hisses from the way his tip hits against your cervix, with nowhere left to go. “what is it, love?” he does his best to answer coherently, needing you to be the one fucked dumb first. without a second thought, one hand abandons your hip to slide down your abdomen all the way back between your legs where he began rubbing slow, tight circles against your neglected clit.

“ah! f–fuck!” you moan as he soon sets a steady pace against your throbbing bud, steadily working you up to an orgasm, the knot in your stomach tightening. 

it doesn’t take much longer before you’re quivering in shouto’s grip and whining about how close you were, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride wash over him as he pushes you closer to the edge. 

as your cunt clenches and flutters around him, shouto feels himself growing uncomfortably close as well, and soon finds himself asking if it’s okay if he came inside.

“yes, please, baby,” you whine and nod your head, one hand moving to entangle itself into shouto’s hair as he finally allowed you to kiss him once again.

and, with a few more thrusts, you find yourself cumming in sync as the horribly tense knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re creaming all over your husband’s cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, dick pulsing once, twice, before finally squirting his thick, hot seed deep into your womb, leaving you feeling both gross and contently full.

after rubbing your clit throughout the duration of your orgasm, shouto still doesn’t stop, even once you began coming down from you high, and you can’t help but jolt in his lap from the oversensitivity.

“sh-shouto, you can—you can st-stop!” you manage to spit out, biting your lower lip as you watch his calloused fingers rub steady circles against your poor clit. 

“but—” he pants. “you only— only came once,” he tries to explain, rolling his hips up into you despite his own sensitivity, desperate to make you cum again. 

“i– i know, but—’m sensitive, baby,” you try telling him, quickly feeling that familiar knot start to form again.  “ple—please!”

despite your pathetic little mewls, your husband ignores you in favor of your excess pleasure, significantly warming up the fingers playing with your puffy clit. 

it’s not long before you’re cumming one more time, evening out your total to two—equal to what you had given your oh-so-doting husband (even if you only went out of your way to actually give him a single orgasm—he just happened to cum a second time because you felt so good wrapped around him).

“fuck, baby,” you moan, back arching deeply as he slowly lessens the pressure on your throbbing clit. shouto never disappointed you in bed, or in this case, just simply in the bedroom, and for that, you were eternally grateful.

once you were done making a mess around the length of his dick, your back falls flush against his chest, and you both pant heavily for a long moment before either of you are able to recompose yourselves.

afterwards, shouto helps lift you off his softening dick, and into the bathroom so you could piss (always piss after sex, y’all), before going downstairs to get you a glass of water and then returning back to your shared bedroom to wait in your king sized bed.  once you re-entered the room, your husband sits up in the plush bed, with his arms extended out to you, your water already on your nightstand. 

with a smile, you make your way over to the bed, with only slightly wobbly legs, and curl up in your loving shouto’s strong arms, where he holds you close to him, resting your head against his chest, where you could hear his beating heart—a sound so soothing you were almost lulled asleep by it until you heard the quietest, faintest whisper of, “you’re so beautiful,” and you can’t help the grin that breaks out across your face as you tell him he is too, something shouto has never been too sure of how to process, but over time, as the compliments he received increased, he slowly learned how to handle and accept them properly.

“i love you,” you say in sync, and you let out a little giggle at this before saying jinx! and pressing a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling your head back against his chest and yawning deeply.

[steviebbboi]

It's That Steve - Espresso

Writing this for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congratulations on 300! Thanks for putting this together :)

This follows the prompt/trope: friends to lovers + “you know, that's my favorite” + long drive together + summer inspired song

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no y/n)

Words: 1,454 w/c

Disclaimer(s): 18+ fic, widely fluff and sweet moments btw/n you and Steve, adoration and sweetness, mild general descriptions of the reader's features, implied and mild depictions of smut, friends to lovers, equal partnership, subtledom!Steve, vacation time, Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter is featured in the fic - I do not own!

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Gusts of wind gently grazed the green silk scarf around your face, strands of your hair still peeking out and being rustled by the breeze. You recognized the song playing on the radio and hummed in appreciation. The song may have been playing everywhere, but when it comes on, you can’t seem to skip it. Listening to it allows the sunrays and laziness of summer to seep into the music. 

You looked away from the road briefly to reach over and increase the volume. Gently singing with the chorus, “Say you can't sleep, baby, I know – That's that me, espresso.” Humming the rest of the verse, Steve couldn’t help but extend a soft smile. He always appreciated your singing and your voice was a source of ease for him to bask in. 

Driving your red convertible on a long ride to Cape Cod, Steve was finally using his PTO. You would think Avenging would allow for unlimited time off but according to Steve, he only desires to take time off if he really needed to. After conversations about visiting the Cape (you may or may have not taken screenshots of the bay and saved them on his phone for him to find later), you accomplished convincing Steve of how necessary it is for you two to spend more time together away from the hustle and bustle of NYC.

Tuning into the song as you continued humming along, Steve’s curiosity took a hold when listening to one particular lyric. 

“What does she mean by ‘me, espresso’? Is that colloquial nowadays?” Steve innocently wondered out loud. 

The man carried super soldier strength and can strategize a whole army to coordinate together, to follow his leadership – but bless him, his innocence when being curious about the modernization of flirting was a beautiful thing to witness.

You let out a giggle and explained, “Steve, it’s an expression of her power as a woman layered within the song.” At Steve’s persistent look of confusion, your smile only grew bigger as you continued, “She’s conveying her effect on men – she’s always on their minds or they’d be up all night addicted to her. Like how you would be if you drank espresso, y’know, a strong caffeinated, addictive, beverage.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him to drill the suggestiveness of the lyric home even more. 

Steve’s face turned into comprehension until he frowned and looked at the cup of coffee securely placed in the car, “Does that mean that you’re my, espresso?” 

At that comment, you heartily laugh and look over at him with adoration, “Yes, Steve. I am your espresso.” Saying that with a straight face was the hardest thing you had to do the entire drive. 

Steve took in your teasing tone and softly smiled while reaching over to grab your hand to place on his lap. It was no secret that the adoration was mutual, if not more, in your relationship with Steve. Your start as friends only increased the intimacy between you when your relationship turned romantic. 

Widely attributed to the dating culture back in his day, but you would like to think it's also because of his own love for you, Steve is the kind of partner to pull out your chair for you everytime you sit at a restaurant to eat. He’s the kind of partner to pull you in closer when watching a sad movie on the couch, to not judge you for your feelings but to rub your back until you feel safe. 

Despite his status as an Avenger, you have never felt less than, nor have you ever felt unworthy, in your relationship with Steve. He took time to always extend an appreciation for you - if you cooked dinner for the two of you after he returned from a long day, the softest of smiles that was only reserved for you (like the one that he is giving you right now). He was an affirmative partner that helped you feel love, never putting you on a pedestal - and neither did you. 

The thought floated in your head as you glanced over at him a few times. Adorning a soft white tee and brown linen pants with a pair of worn converse - a smile graced your face at how casual Captain America looks right now, compared to the formidable stealth suit that most people envision him wearing most of the time. Steve was looking out onto the road, the sunshine lighting his face just right, his blonde hair tousled back by the wind, and his hand now caressing yours in his lap like it was second nature to do so. 

You adored him.

Glancing over your boyfriend again only resulted in him catching your gaze with another soft smile on his face. Although you were the one caught staring, Steve was content in letting this moment sit in silence, the music from the radio still playing softly in the background. 

Noticing this, you bit your lip nervously while glancing at him as he slowly gazed at you from the passenger seat. Steve’s eyes followed the silk green scarf holding your brown locks, down to the white dress that you were wearing that followed the curves of your body, and although partially hidden, your favorite summer heels that accentuated your body just right. His eyes landed on your lips, the way that your teeth were tugging at your bottom lip only reminded him of his own doing the same things last night. At the thought, his eyes darkened a bit making you release your lip. 

Clearing his throat, his eyes gravitate back to your scarf. He simply said, “You know, that one’s my favorite.” 

His comment rested casually in the space until you looked at him again with your own mild curiosity. “Which? The scarf?” You mindfully try to tuck in wisps of hair escaping said scarf back behind your ears unsuccessfully. 

Steve let out a gentle hmm and said, “You look beautiful in green, sweetheart.” He pulled the hand that he was holding to his soft lips and grazed the back of your hand with a lingering kiss. 

Your heart did the thing again where it skips a beat when he compliments you. You aren’t used to partners being so emotionally expressive and deep when extending their appreciation to you. Steve had no issues communicating with you about anything, and you both knew that when Steve spoke, it's always with intention. And right now, although his compliment was sent and received with a wholesome air, you were able to hear the passion underneath that said more about how much he admired you. 

Blushing a bit, especially when Steve was still making eye contact with you and continuing to graze his lips on your skin, you responded with a quiet thank you, baby. It was always like this with Steve. Somehow, his innocuous words and calm observations lead to an intimate, sensuality between the two of you. 

“How much longer till we reach the apartment?” Steve broke the atmosphere with his question. Steve was still adopting a fair innocent tone, although the way that he was still pressing soft kisses on your hand says otherwise.

Gulping a bit, still feeling flushed, you look over at the GPS, “It’s looking like we will get there in about 15 minutes.”

He smiled while still holding your gaze, “Good. I can’t wait to ravish you when we get there.” Still holding that ‘golden boy’, respectful tone, though, his eyes were still darkened from earlier, and were vocalizing his utter need for you. 

Flashbacks to the previous night where you were gasping underneath Steve’s sculpted body, his hands gripping yours above your head in the same softness that he was holding it now. Yet, his passionate possessiveness was shown in his tight grip. The heat of his skin being pressed against yours felt overwhelming but was so welcomed. Though, his whispered words held a revered promise in your ear of the same devotion that he was telling you now. The intimacy was almost too much to take in as tears left your eyes and soft moans were let out while Steve continued to thrust into you. His own groans reached your ears in genuine satisfaction. 

As you finally settled into the rented apartment, Steve proceeded to do exactly what he said he would. The lyrics of the song still echoing in the background of your mind.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first submission for a collective like this - thanks again to @bigtreefest for allowing us to celebrate with you!

Likes or reblogs/comments are heartily appreciated!

Read my other submission for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ Celebration here

[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻. Trafalgar Law x F! Reader

🌨 a/n: so I recently been to Austria, a country I often visit since it's literally like a dream. (plus, my mom knew she was pregnant with me there, so I was used to come back to Innsbruck as much as I could with her). But in any case I got inspired there to write this little fic, that might -or not- be a multi chapter one if you all like it. The place exists and the scam part, happened to me -kinda, the airbnb existed, but not as it was listed :P- but in any case, please enjoy and don't forget to leave some feedback if you want more~ ❄ tw: a very sfw story, that might evolve into something else if you want me to keep writing about their trip 😏 ☃ wc: 2.6k

Hijacking for the first time, what could go wrong? Maybe everything, maybe nothing.

A two-month long trip all around Europe has found you on a little village of Austria. Your boots are cold, but luckily they are snow proof ones. Your skin all bumpy, your cheeks irritated. It’s been snowing all night, and despite the sun rising for now, some clouds in the sky menace with more white blessing to fall upon your shoulders very soon.

Those little mountain streets around the Alps are wonderful, they surround mountains going up and down and in a spiral way. But those are wonderful, as long as you can drive a car with heating. And you don’t have one right now.

The crunchy sound of the snow beneath your boots mix with the melody of a glacial river running in between the mountain and the road. It is certainly beautiful, the little rocks and stones being bathed by such pure and cold water, the rests of dry leaves and some moss growing on an everlasting shadow casted by tall, enormous peaks.  Everything is worth taking a picture, but you should prioritize your battery life this time around. The GPS is sometimes wonky, being that high can affect the service.

Many cars have passed by, but none of them have stopped. Little lorries carrying logs pass, cars completely drenched in dirty snow and that mix of salt that roads have during winters.

However, just when your hopes for finding someone to at least give you a ride to the next village were about to run out, the yellow shine of an old VW ban flashes before your eyes.

There, behind a curve -a very dangerous one if you ever went to the mountains- something smells like smoke and a tall man of white furry hat swears up to the skies.

You walk towards him, carefully. Who knows what is happening? Who knows who that man is capable of? There is one thing you are sure, however, and it is that this man is absolutely mad at his old van.

When peaking behind a dark wooden tree that’s now covered in spots of white snow, you discover the annoyed man is a young -handsome- one.

His van, a little rusty but still cute, seems to be having problems to keep going and the smoke coming from it shows it very well.

“Sir? Sir! Your van is catching fire!” you announce, realizing the smoke is indeed a very serious issue.

The guy of chocolate skin and tattooed hands turns around to look immediately at you and then to the back of the van. Those 70’s vehicles had actually their engines right in the back instead of the front.

And Indeed, you were right. Apparently the climb had been too tough for the poor old VW and its engine couldn’t take it any longer.

He quickly opens the back door, maybe searching for a fire extinguisher while you grab fistfuls of snow in an attempt to put down the incipient flames. Quickly enough, and with not many damages to count, the fire stops, and the only thing left is a big black spot on the back of the caravan.

“Thank you” he says, as dry as hopefully your socks. “No problem. What happened? Did the engine over heat?” you ask, curious despite his “I don’t want friends” face. “Yes; these hills are no joke. This never happened to my Polar, but there is always a first time…” he sighs, assessing the damage with a sad expression.

Apparently his van has a name; “Polar”. That’s very cute, and his eyes too. A golden shine in them looks even beautiful with the pristine white around. His tattoos do as well. You wonder about his name, and what is he doing on the road, but you are not sure if it’s proper to ask. However, he asks first.

“What are you doing here? do you have a car?” he mumbles, his voice is as attractive as he is. His eyes scan the place, but nothing catches his attention.

“No, I am actually hijacking. No one stopped so I started walking before the sun starts going down. I definitely got scammed; the Airbnb I was supposed to stay in didn’t, in fact, exist.

He grunts, almost silently. Apparently he is not happy with what happened to you but that’s it.

“Well, that’s so unsafe. I am sorry I can’t give you a ride right now. Apparently none of us have been blessed with good luck today” he says, walking around his vehicle with long legs covered in spotted jeans.

You nod. Your tongue is aching to ask about him, but you clearly catch the hint… he doesn’t want you there.

“Yep. Well, I wish you luck! I must keep going” “Same to you, be careful”

He doesn’t even look at you, something that makes you -somehow- very sad. In any case, you start walking away. There is no point in staying there… even if you have great mechanical skills that could help.

And as you do, you also have a very, very loud consciousness voice screaming at you on how could you leave him with no solution if you know it…

“Sir, you should check your water level…”  you shout, a few meters away from him. The sound of your voice echoes in the huge natural immensity of the Alps and his golden eyes finally fall upon you.

He stops moving for some seconds, lost in you. You, as well, wait for him to say something else. Something like “stay with me” or “don’t go”. A total stranger you want to hang up with. A total unknown woman he wants to protect.

“You know how to fix this?” “I do…”

Or so that was what you thought.  

No more than a couple of minutes took you to help him out. VW vans are noble machines; they are durable and easy to fix despite their particular design. And soon, as a part of your payment, the man that you learned is called Law and you drove away through intricate roads and huge snowflakes.

“Where are you going, (Name)-ya?” he asks, handing you an old cover from an old comic, Germa 66.

“I was supposed to stay for a couple of days in Bad Goisern, and then I thought of visiting Salzburg. I am on a long trip through Europe. What about you?”  you ask, cuddling with the blanket. A certain blessing for your freezing hands.

He nods, checking the breaks before going down the hill.

“I am too. I just graduated medical school and I thought of taking a little vacation before my residency starts. I’m going to be a surgeon. A cardiac surgeon” he tells, full of dreams he fails to cover up behind a tough guy expression.

You celebrate his success, and the next couple of hours become a ping pong of questions and answers. A smile on your face that leaves your cheeks hurting accompanies you until the sun hides and the little lights on the mountains start to scatter.

You didn’t want to go down in the first village, nor the second, nor the third. Law, didn’t want you to go down his van either. You named Salzburg, and he promised you to take you there.

But the night found both of you, and apparently your mechanical skills weren’t as good as you thought the would… Polar decided to stop, in the middle of nowhere during a dark, very dark winter night.

You close your eyes as the sound of rusty gears fail and Law’s annoyance grows stronger than ever. When Polar finally loses all of the power, Law manages to agonizingly park on the side of the road and a huge sighs escapes his lips.

You peak through your left eye; his DEATH tattooed fingers squeeze the wheel, and you know he will snap at any moment. But he doesn’t…

“I’m sorry. I thought- I-“ you try to give a plausible apologize, even though you had nothing to do with it.

“No. It is not your fault… it is mine- As we didn’t stop, I have completely forgotten to fuel Polar up” Law says, absolutely mortified for such stupid mistake. Apparently you were enough distraction to keep him from the basics of road tripping.

You breath alleviated and try to stop your upcoming laughter. Your grimacing did nothing to hide it, and a big burst of laughter took over the van and everything around.

Law looks at you pissed, but a soft smirk garnishes his lips. You can’t stop, perhaps it isn’t that funny… but you feel so happy right now. And you have no idea why, since you are literally stranded in a very dark wood with temperatures below 0C and snow pooling on top of that van.

“Welp, it’s ok. We should wait until tomorrow, then” you say, knowing the risks. “You- you prefer spending the night in here? aren’t you afraid of dying?” he asks, surprised.

“I am, in fact, scared of dying. That’s why I know very well I can’t walk during a snowstorm in the middle of the night in the Alps. Plus, you are too sweet to be considered a threat” you joke, searching for some chocolate inside your backpack.

Law narrows his eyes, deepening his frown. Apparently being called “sweet” and “not a threat” is not something he enjoys.

“I could cut you open and took all of your organs out during the night” he says, serious as hell. “Go for it. Don’t forget to steal my heart, doctor” you laugh, taking your jacket off.

Law is flabbergasted; he has never confronted someone like you before… but he is beginning to like it now.

A bar of chocolate that you had kept in your backpack for too long lays too close to his nose. You shake it, offering its sweetness to him.

He takes it but doesn’t eat it. Instead, his hand gets pressed against the window behind you. Law has pinned you against the door of your side. He is not a very muscular man, but he is indeed very tall and lean… if he wanted, he could do anything to you.

Your eyes widen, big as the moon. You swallow, thinking maybe walking through the forest might be a safer option.

“L-Law… I- didn’t mean to-“ you tremble, asking yourself where did you put the Victorinox blade you bought in Switzerland… it should be enough to defend yourself, right?

You notice his chest is also tattooed as his clothes open just a little. His arms, are too. His scent, despite the danger, smells deliciously tempting…

“Don’t trust strangers that easily, (Name)-ya” he whispers, a few centimetres from your lips. Letting you go after and biting the chocolate bar as if nothing has just happened.

You remain there, frozen up with your eyes widen and your lips softly trembling. He is, in fact, very right. Law is indeed a stranger, after all.

When oxygen finally begins to reach your lungs and brain again, you move and blink the dry eyes away. Silently you sit back, properly. You aren’t able to say anything, somehow you have run out of words.

You squeeze the blanket he gave you, covering you as much as you could, making yourself as tiny as possible on that old leather seat.

“Are you ok?” he asks, so nonchalantly.

“Ye-yes, I’m… ok” you mumble back, almost sticking yourself to the passenger door. “Is it ok if I go to sleep? I’m tired”

Law nods, confused. Maybe he was just joking around, but it did scare you big time. He goes down the van and opens the back doors. You look at him disappearing in the darkness until a very little glimpse of silver light coming from the moon filters through the doors.

But, soon after, fairy lights illuminate the back allowing you to discover a very cozy space behind the front seats.

“I am glad I installed this independently from the fuel tank. I have a little power generator for the back. It’s not a hotel bed, but it does the job” he says, showing you a precarious mattress covering the entire floor of the vehicle.

You smile softly, it looks cozy and pretty. The walls are full of random posters and maps, and there is even an old picture of a younger Law with three more guys wearing fancy hats with something written in the snow. You take a closer look at it, to discover it says, “Pirates of Heart” and you giggle. What a peculiar gang name.

“Law, this is really cute. You even have a lot of blankets and cushions!” you chime, easing a little bit.

“My best friend Bepo decorated it for me, I only helped him with the lights” he says, a little embarrassed.

You jump right back, leaving your backpack in the front seat and forgetting everything for the moment. What a reckless lover girl.

“I am going to sleep in the front seat, don’t worry. Use as many blankets as you need” he informs you, closing the back doors and leaving you there. You most probably were to say “no, stay here” but you simply couldn’t.

After all, this tattooed doctor is a gentleman. Right?

You let yourself rest for a bit on that improvised bed, with your sight blurring while looking at the fairy lights. The scent of the blankets and pillows is the same as him, something you secretly enjoy without even knowing. You catch a glimpse of the reflection of him sitting in the front through the back windows, at how he takes his hat off revealing a dark shade of onyx spiky hair.

For the next half an hour, or maybe less, you both become silent. The only sounds are the huge slaps of snow falling from the sky against the van and the subtle whistle of the wind filtering through the doors.

It is cold, but it’s probably colder in the front as Law is only using his Germa 66 blanket to cover up…

“Law? Are you awake?” you ask, shyly.

“Mh? Yes... why?” he asks back, with not much emotion but a soft tremble on his voice. He is probably cold, very cold.

“I feel bad for you; you must be freezing. There is plenty of room back here, you could sleep here. It’s ok with me” you say, taking advantage of not being in front of him.

Law takes a few minutes to move, but he ultimately does. He hops to where you are and sits there crossing his long legs. He is not wearing his black leather boots, so you can see Sora’s socks.

“Cool socks” you say, sitting right in front of him watching his cheeks go blushed. “Here, cover up. You are freezing, doc”

Both of you cover up with heavy blankets and fall into the mattress at the same time, facing each other.

Maybe, it is too strong to deny it. The attraction is natural, and you both can’t stop it… Exactly like the wind and cold reaching your skins.

“I am still cold” you mumble.

“I read in one of my books that the best way to keep the warmth of our bodies is to share it… skin to skin” he whispers, unable to take his eyes away from your lips.

“Is that so?” you breathe, coming closer to his embrace, allowing his arms to surround your frame and your hips to join with the other’s.

His forehead slowly touches yours, the bridge of your noses do as well. Your fingers, playfully but slowly, crawl to the crook of his neck. While his, squeeze your waist with delicate dominance. A leg that snake into the other’s, crossing, tangling…

Lips coming closer, so close. Breaths warming up, going faster and bumpy. Hearts that indeed had been stolen, the first kiss of two strangers, meeting for the very first time like two snowflakes join while falling from an endless sky

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWill they continue their journey together? 🦢

[tsukasalvr]

Hii! I read your nicknames they would give kids imagine and I saw that for Tengen he mentioned to his kids bothering uncle Kyojuro. I wonder if you could write something abt that cause I find it funny😭

s/o and tengens kids w/ uncle kyojuro

Anime/fandom: Demon Slayer

Characters: Uzui Tengen, PLATONIC- Rengoku Kyojuro

Warnings: I don’t proofread, pure platonic between reader and Kyojuro

A/n: BYEEEE THIS IS SOO CUTE ANON OMGGG I need fics where it’s the reader and a character where they have family PLSSSSS THERES BARELY ANY SO IF ANYONE KNOWS ANY PLSSSS MESSAGE OR INBOX ME

Demon slayer masterlist | Main masterlist

Uzui Tengen , platonic - Rengoku Kyojuro

Tengen, the other wives and you were blessed enough to have twins—one a girl and the other a boy

They were both spoiled to death and you all cared and loved them deeply, of course—which meant they had to obviously be introduced the rest of the “family”

Rengoku and Tengen were always close, they were practically ‘best bros’ and Tengen saw him as more than a close friend, he saw him as family which Kyojuro reciprocated as well

Which is why when the twins were introduced, Tengen immediately introduced Kyojuro to the twins—even though they couldn’t understand because they were still babies, as their uncle and Kyojuro rolled with it

As the twins grew, so did the closeness between them and Kyojuro. Kyojuro would offer to watch over them so the rest of you could have a day to yourself. It was also a perfect time to introduce the twins to their other uncle “uncle”, Senjuro who was excited to see them as well

Rengoku would let them sit on his strong muscled shoulders with a smile on his face just so he can hear them laugh and cheer him on as they call him ‘uncle Kyojuro’

Tengen has thanked Kyojuro for being so kind to his baby twins and how he’ll always be a brother to him even if they aren’t blood related

[kedsandtubesocks]

be your hallowed ground

Demon!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes

word count: 7.9k

a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡

The forest stretches out far, daunting.

Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.

Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.

Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.

Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.

The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.

You whip around.

No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.

The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.

Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.

“There you are, turtle dove.”

The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.

Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.

Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.

Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.

“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.

The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.

“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”

His name - Ezra.

Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.

Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.

“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.

“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.

You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.

“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”

Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.

But then the wind picks up.

From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.

“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”

He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.

After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.

With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.

The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.

“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.

Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.

The man chuckles.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.

You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.

Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.

However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.

Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.

“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”

“They are.” You answer stiffly.

Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.

“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”

He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.

“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”

“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”

“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.

So you reserve your words again.

“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.

“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.

As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.

“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”

“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.

“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.

“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.

The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.

You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.

Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.

“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.

“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.

Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.

“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.

“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”

He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.

So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”

“Truly?” He now squawks confused.

“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”

Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.

“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.

“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”

“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.

An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.

“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”

“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.

Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.

“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”

You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.

He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.

“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”

His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.

His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.

You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.

You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.

Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.

“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”

“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.

“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”

Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.

“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”

His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.

Now his eyes flicker to you.

“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.

But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.

Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.

You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.

Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.

Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.

A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.

“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.

He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.

But, his words confuse you.

“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.

That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.

How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.

Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.

“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”

So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.

How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.

The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.

Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.

Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.

The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.

Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.

“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.

So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.

“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.

Where could he have gone?

“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.

How did he get there without you noticing?

In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.

“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”

“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.

A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.

“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”

No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.

Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.

“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.

“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.

“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.

“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.

“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”

“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.

Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.

“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”

He noticed it too.

Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.

“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.

Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.

“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”

You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.

A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.

“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.

You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.

“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”

You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.

“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.

Ezra gasps small but surprised.

“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.

“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.

The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”

Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.

You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.

“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”

You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.

You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.

“Thank you kindly.”

Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.

However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.

You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.

“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.

The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.

Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.

The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.

However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.

It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.

But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.

Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.

Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.

Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?

You must be imagining things.

Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.

He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.

A thought flutters into your mind.

You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.

Dread fills you.

How could you think such thoughts?

“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.

“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”

The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.

In thought, you hum a small noise.

“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.

You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.

“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.

He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.

“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.

“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”

Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.

“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.

“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.

“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.

You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.

Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.

You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.

But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.

His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.

Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.

“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.

You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.

Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.

His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.

His eyes and yours find each other.

“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.

Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.

You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.

You want more, need it.

Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.

The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.

Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.

Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.

Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.

Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”

His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.

“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”

You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.

You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.

You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.

You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.

Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.

Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.

You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.

“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.

Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.

Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.

His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.

The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.

Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.

Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.

“Your wing, turtle dove.”

Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.

The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.

“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.

Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.

“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.

Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”

You nod quietly.

Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.

Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.

The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.

“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”

Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.

A tender kiss.

Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips

Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.

There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.

However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.

If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.

Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.

However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.

You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.

A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.

“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”

“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.

“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.

“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.

“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.

“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”

Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.

“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.

You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.

“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”

You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.

“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”

“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.

“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.

You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.

“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.

Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?

A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…

But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?

“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.

“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.

“Please….” You whimper out.

“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.

“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.

It unleashes a monster.

Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.

It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.

Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.

You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.

This however sets your soul on fire.

His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.

You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.

Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.

Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.

That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.

Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.

And now, the church is lit.

You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.

How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?

A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.

“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.

“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.

A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.

He hums a satisfied groan.

“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.

“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.

This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.

Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.

His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.

A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.

Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.

“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.

“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.

“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”

His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?

“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”

Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.

“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”

Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.

You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.

“No.” You breathe out.

“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”

His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.

“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.

The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.

Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.

Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.

Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -

Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.

Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.

Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.

With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.

“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.

“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.

And he does as you command.

Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.

You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.

“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”

You don’t deny him after that.

The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.

When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.

“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.

Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.

You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.

The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…

And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?

Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.

“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.

“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.

Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.

Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.

Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.

But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.

Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.

So your eyes open.

From between your legs, Ezra glances up.

His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.

Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.

A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.

Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.

Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.

You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.

“What- what are you?!” You sob.

Ezra hums and peers up at you.

“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”

A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.

Or perhaps it’s hell.

Maybe you have died.

You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.

As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.

You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.

The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.

So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.

Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.

The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.

The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…

You never once gave it to him this entire time.

He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.

When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.

You’re home.

Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?

“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.

He thankfully answers all your questions.

You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.

“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”

Now you’ve been resting ever since.

Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?

That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.

You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.

Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.

Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”

Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.

“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.

“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”

You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.

By twilight another knock at the door arrives.

“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.

Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.

“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”

The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.

When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.

Fear seizes your soul.

No. It couldn’t be.

This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.

“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.

Your heart rages rapidly and wild.

“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.

“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.

Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.

Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.

He exalts your name on an exhale.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.

“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.

So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.

“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.

“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”

His hand graciously cradles your cheek.

You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.

Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.

Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch

Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.

“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.

“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”

And you want him to be yours.

This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?

So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.

Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.

You too fell for the serpent.

After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.

Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.

[hd-hurtcomfort-fest]

Fine-Fractured Halo

Creator: Rainjuly Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson & Harry Potter Rating: E Word count: 29k

Warnings/Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pining, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Obsessed with Harry Potter, Toxic Relationship, Toxic Situationship, Painter Harry Potter, Researcher Draco Malfoy, Artist Harry Potter, Long Distance Situationship, Birthday Parties, mentioned suicidal thoughts, Post-War Related Mental Health Issues, Harry's kinda stupid for Draco, we all know he always is, Handjob on the grass, Messy Sex, Sex on Grass, Anal Sex, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Loneliness, Heartbreak, Casual Sex, Angry Sex, Magical Theory (Harry Potter)

Summary: For Harry, it all starts on July 31, 1999 and ends on July 31, 2019. Twenty years of longing, love, and pain in no particular order. Or: An annual birthday party that turns to a yearly school reunion. Hermione and Pansy are party planners, Ron is an excellent baker, and everyone tries their best to attend a birthday party just to see each other.

Author's note: Prompt number 118-One day AU To Lumosatnight, thank you for the prompt, this was honestly a big rollercoaster ride to write. I really hope this is the angst you're looking for. I really tried my best (watched the movie 'One day' just for this, great movie!) and wonderful concept! This fic is significantly different with the movie plot-wise, but I'm hoping it still leaves the same effect. Proudly, happily, sending you this fic with love ❤️ I'm sending a big, big, big hug and gratitude towards the kindest and loveliest Beta-reader, K, who has been working on this fic together with me for the past month. Bless your heart, you're amazing, K. Be happy, always ❤️ Also, thank you to the loveliest mods team ever! To Peachpety, Vukovich, and Orangepellets, thank you for being patient, helpful, and kind to me. I'm so glad you're the mods lol. I had loads of struggle writing for this fest, and you've been amazing ❤️ Lastly, for anyone reading this fic, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. And I'll warn you in advance to look at the title of this fest. Listen, I had an excuse for this lol. Hugs and kisses for y'all.

***FIC PAIRING***

Something We Create Fluff || E || 16.5k

*banner art by @basiatlu

[serenpedac]

End of year fic rec list 2023

I was looking at last year’s list and how it said I was excited for this year, because of the Book 3 release. And it was great to be here on tumblr while people were reading it and talking about it, and to see new people join! While this list isn’t about b3 itself, of course it did affect the fics that were written. It felt like the book was a lot about setting up pieces for the next book(s), and I adore how people incorporated these new bits of information into their own fic. We may have a long wait ahead for Book 4, but with people here sharing their writing, their art, their thoughts, I don't mind it all that much!

As always, there are many wonderful fics that are not on this list, like the ones from the fic exchange earlier this year (I'm very much looking forward to the Secret Santa as well). Not because they don’t deserve to be, but because my energy and time are limited and the list is already so very long haha

Thank all of you who shared your beautiful writing <3 

List below the cut! Please be mindful of potential warnings

sincerity is scary - @thee-morrigan

Fine. She was fine. Despite the strain of these past months, she continued to be perfectly fine. Had gotten through everything that’d been thrown at her. Not entirely smoothly, certainly not effortlessly, but…she had gotten through it.

This fic had to be the first on this list because it was exactly what I needed to read after finishing Book 3, even if I didn’t know it before reading it. So much is thrown at the detective in that book and, for a detective romancing N, there’s that one conversation at the end that must leave some kind of impact… This fic felt like it finally gave the detective (and me) time to let it all sink in and reflect—no matter how much Holland tries not to think about it. I’m just really thankful this fic exists.

quiet and content - @sealriously-sealrious

There’s more she wants to tell them—usually she’s so good at crafting her sentences with eloquence, tying them together and making them flow like silk. But then Marin’s hands are in her hair again, and that goes entirely out the window.

Choosing one of aeruh’s fics to share on this list was so so hard! They blessed us with many lovely fics, and I absolutely adored the lighthouse AU as well! But this oneshot about Nat and Marin just has so much warmth. Just like Nat gets to relax, be the one who is taken care of for once, I felt like I could sink into this fic. The perfect comfort read <3

to drink from a poisened well - @thcscus

His eyes refocused, one last time. As gray and as beautiful as the last time she lost him. “Mason,” she breathed, panic bursting across her body like fireworks. Stay with me.

Rereading this fic broke my heart again! The premise of Mason losing his memories of a romanced detective hurts so good. And to then have the two meet again, years later… Ah, I don’t want to spoil anything, but the story, the characterisation, the ending, everything here was so well-written! On top of that, the writing itself is simply wonderful. Loved it all!

Just a Nightmare - @lykegenia

Her blood sings, goads him, and his fangs lengthen behind his lips.

The start of this fic is so incredibly sexy!! And the rest is also so good. I love how Lykegenia explores what might happen if N stayed the night with the detective—something that was notably absent in b3. To add to that, Nate and Leah are one of my favourite couples, so to see the growth in their relationship in how Nate decides to trust and open up a little more at the end was lovely.

you make me laugh again, feelin’ so good - @lovelyfoolish

She used to think of these early-morning-after conversations as uncomfortable half-somethings. But they’ve become worn, softening the way leather does, or wool, and now the incomplete sentences feel more like uncut jewels, rough with possibility, an entire language constructed from what they leave unsaid.

A wonderful slice-of-life fic between Mason/detective. I love how it shows the beauty of a seemingly everyday moment. There’s something so delicate about this stage of their relationship, in how they have grown closer and more familiar with each other and are starting to share these “ordinary” moments, but there’s also a lot that’s still unexplored. This fic and its prose capture that beautifully. 

Scarlet Welly Boots - @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal

“You’re going to be the best mum I’ve ever had. I know it.” He looks back down at the boots in his lap, wrinkling his nose. “Even if you buy me boots.”

I will always be in awe at the thought people put into the backstories of their OCs and this fic is an amazing example of that. The impact of Rook’s death is felt throughout this story, affecting the relationship between Ciaran (Raine) and Rebecca. But what I love the most about this fic is the bond between Ciaran and his brother Eoin. There’s this part in the second chapter that made me so soft <3 I know the detective canonically is an only child, but we need more sibling relationships! 

Half Past Seven? A Post It Note - @agentnatesewell

Don't you know, my beloved, I will give you all the seconds of my immortal life?

A short, sweet and little bit spicy fic! N leaving notes for a romanced detective is one of my favourite things and this note is so wonderfully Nate! His voice, the beautiful language in which he reminisces about the night before, how he thinks about their future together <3 The loveliest little treasure of a fic that I only discovered this year.

I Can’t See Me Lovin’ Nobody But You - @plasticdodecagon

His daughter, Avery. Her sweet smile and her chubby cheeks and her big, curious eyes. How he didn't want her to grow up without a father, how he didn't want her to feel lonely, how he always wanted her to feel loved.

Speaking of sibling relationships, this Rook lives AU has some wonderful ones as well! Reading about the family that the detective could have had, if Rook hadn’t died, may be a little bittersweet, but it’s mostly very heartwarming. PD’s interpretation of Rook is amazing, and this alternative take on how UB meets (not-detective) Avery and gets thrown into family life has been great! I’ve been enjoying every part of this fic so much!

Nightswimming - @nerdierholler

Beside him, Ethan floated, bathed in moonlight, stars reflected in his eyes.

First of all, this quoted sentence is beautiful and evocative and will stay with me for a while! After the pain b3 brought for A-mancers, this ficlet was like a soothing balm. Adam finally accepting his feelings and the tranquil feeling this brings him were written so well. The entire atmosphere of this fic was wonderfully quiet and peaceful.

Breaking the Yearlings - @evilbunnyking

That first night Adam invited him to his own rooms Tobias had entered slowly, cautiously, running his fingers over the fireplace mantle and then the carvings of the bedposts, and all that Adam had wanted was for him to touch him, instead.

This one kind of feels like cheating, since it was also on last year’s list, but Tobi and Adam have my entire heart. Bunny weaves Adam’s (and also Tobi’s) past and the present together beautifully and the writing is gorgeous, always. My favourite part was when Adam finally met present-day Tobi, which was as impactful as might be expected!

inside this place (i call our home) - @thelionheartedo3

Adam’s arms are still crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t tell Ely no. Mango stretches a paw out towards him, mewling, and Nate hides his smile with a hand over his mouth as he watches the stern mask melt off of Adam, shoulders dropping from their hunch.

Fluff!! This was pure and adorable fluff in the form of an orange kitten. I fell in love with Mango at first sight while reading this fic, haha! It’s so much fun to see UB reacting to having a kitten around the warehouse. I was looking forward to rereading this one a lot and it was still every bit as heartwarming as I remembered.

Finally, a very lovely person suggested that I should also celebrate myself, something I don’t find easy to do. Thank you, sweet friend, for your message and for giving me this nudge <3 Here is a snippet I wrote on a whim, but that has by now become part of my HC for Yael and Nate, in which that one conversation at the end of b3 ends with them breaking up. I hope to some day continue this storyline and give them the happy ending they deserve.

[the-traveling-poet]

hullo!!! i just wanted to say i really enjoy your writing and i was wondering if you'd be so gracious as to write a levi x nonbinary reader, in which the reader is asexual and gets overwhelmed by physical touch so levi tries to comfort them. you can make it as angsty as you like

thank you so much in advance ε>

Ace

You’d always stood out. Never taking a partner, never seeking one. Out of spite to those who jeered your way, you refused to acknowledge them when they attempted to address you as ‘Ma’am” or “Sir”. It didn’t matter that they didn’t, or rather wouldn’t, understand. Because at the end of the day, he understood. And he loved you all the same.

Pairing: Levi x Asexual!NB!Reader

Warnings: language, bullying

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: Oh my god anon this is a blessing of an ask like- Being ace myself, I really appreciate this ask. Finding ace related content is a strUggle. I’ve only ever read ONE ace!reader x AOT fic before and I literally teared up. So in a way, writing this request was like actually writing MYSELF into a fic. And a Levi fic at that. Well, except I use she/her pronouns, and per your request this is non-binary, so I’ll do my best! Since being ace is a different experience for everyone under the ace umbrella, I’m writing this from my own perspective on the matter(s), as this allows me to speak my truth :)

(N/N: Nick Name)

Enjoy~

All your life thus far, you couldn’t help but to feel disgusted by at least fifty percent of the people around you. Both as a teenager making your way through bootcamp away from your controlling home, and even after you’d joined the Survey Corps and surpassed the cadet rank to become a Captain despite the jeers.

One comment after another; “faker” “liar” “prude” “confused” and so many more followed you around like a dark cloud whenever you turned someone down from their advances. And many there had been.

You’d have loved nothing more than to retaliate and lash out at them about how they were wrong about you in the moment, but you’d learned long ago it was a waste of breath.

It was around the time you were promoted to Captain that you’d given up on any chance of finding anyone decent that would respect your boundaries, and kept to yourself and your duties. Sometimes, you’d even had to cut friends out of your personal life for trying to push and pull you into directions you weren’t comfortable going.

But it wasn’t until you’d been selected by Captain Levi to participate in his squad that you began to think maybe, maybe…another shot at friendships was okay.

Your Captain treated you with respect, despite your hesitance to open up in the beginning. With the experiences you’d had thus far, you weren’t all too keen on making another friend to let you down. And somehow, he seemed to completely understand that without either of you uttering a single word on the subject.

As time went on, you both grew closer as teammates, and the idea that you could find a real, valuable friend within the brutality that was the Survey Corps sparked into your mind once more.

Many a time you’d accompany him for tea late into the afternoon. Idle chitchat would follow, perhaps even a soft laugh or two as the candle between you two melted past the wick and melted in its tray.

It became a routine of sorts, checking in on one another throughout the day and sharing tea by night. These days, your steps were lighter. You mind, less bogged down with negativity. He was certainly the first thing you looked forward to when you awoke, and the final thought that soothed you to sleep every night.

This provoked a realization within you, with a feeling of both dread and excitement making your heart plummet to your stomach. Despite having never felt this deep of a connection with someone before, you’d known exactly what you then realized you felt.

Which led you to now, standing before the only other friend you had accompanying you through this mental struggle.

“Well if you like him, go tell him!” she encouraged, grinning ear to ear as she squeezed your hands in excitement.

Pulling back slightly, you internally cringed. She knew how you felt about physical contact, yet always brushed it off with a simple ‘that’s just who I am’. And at this point, with this being her only way of overstepping, you decided to just deal with it. She was really the only one who didn’t judge you otherwise, anyways.

“I-it’s not that simple…You know I don’t have a lot of experience admitting what I feel. And to someone I like? I don’t know how.” You sighed, once again letting your hands slip out from hers.

Her exasperated huff made you raise your eyes and take in her perplexed expression.

“Now how in the hell do you think you’re gonna pursue a relationship with that hunk of a man if you can’t even handle holding hands? Relationships are a lot more physical than that, N/N.”

Immediately you froze, trying to find the right words to say next. “You know how I feel about that. I’m not comfortable with any of…that.”

“Psh, you never are. So what’s the point of even liking anyone, anyways? Anyone can be polite and understanding, but everyone has needs yknow.” She chuckled, patting a hand onto your shoulder.

You started to tense up, feeling your breathing shallow out. Not only for touch she laid onto you, but for the words she spoke that sank your heart further into your chest. For so long you’d overlooked this one trait of hers; being touchy and clingy, and this is how she would repay your tolerance? By ending up on the same road as everyone else had with you?

Feeling your heart pound in your chest, you averted your gaze and scooted away. Maybe she was right…

“He’s nice to me. He’s never hinted at anything more than being my friend…And he certainly has never laid a hand on me; friendly or other.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” She scoffed, furrowing her brow and retracting her hand. “I’m just being honest. You told me yourself once; you prefer honesty over a sweet lie. Should I lie to you and say ‘Oh don’t worry N/N, this guy’s different than anyone else on earth. He’s got no human emotions or desires; your perfect match!’ ? Cause I won’t lie to you. That’s the truth.”

Taking another step back, you fought to keep control over your shaking. But little by little your composure was breaking away.

“That-that’s not true. Not wanting to be touched doesn’t equate to being emotionless or having no desire, innocent or other.”

“Oh so now you’re not “ace” or whatever it is? This asexual thing you explained to me means no desire or attraction!” She chuckled exasperatedly.

“That’s not how that works for everyone-“

“No. You. That’s not how it works for you. Because there’s no one else out there who thinks up this bullshit like you do. You can think whatever you want for yourself, that’s fine. Just don’t confuse it with the truth.” She cut you off, crossing her arms over her chest with a sigh.

“Listen, I’m just saying that, as a woman, you gotta expect these things, yknow?” She continued on, using a softer tone paired with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t go by woman, or man. You know that,” You cried out in exasperation, hugging your arms tightly.

“And that! First with the contradicting ‘sexuality’ and always with the in between gender! You cant just stay in between these lables and expect to live a normal life anyone could understand!”

Tears brimmed your eyes as you watched her storm out of your dorm room with her last insult stinging your heart, and your wanted nothing more than to run and hind when you heard her continue to mutter to herself as she paced down the halls. Now left alone, you contemplated your choices.

She could be right about him; he could simply be someone who knew how to hide his intentions and you’d end up trapped in a situation your rather die than be in.

But…

Who were you to trust? The woman who never quite accepted your request for physical boundaries, or the man who had applauded you for keeping to yourself out of self-comfort?

The man who had been your comfort these past several months.

With your mind made up, you left your room in a hurry. Though your tears kept you from seeing exactly where it was you were stepping, you knew this rout by heart and could follow it blind.

A short moment that seemed to last forever with how hard your shoulders and sides shook and your heart pounded, you came at last to his door. Knocking quickly, you found it hard to find the patience to wait for his monotone voice to call out for your entry.

Pushing the door open quickly, you all but slammed it shut behind you with a stifled gasp. Immediately Levi’s gaze left the paperwork before him, shooting you a once over look of concern.

“The hell happened to you?” He muttered softly. While he might not be so soft with his words, his tone was never anything but gentle with you.

“M-my friend. She…She said…That I can’t do this-I can’t…” as you struggled for both your breath and train of thought to return, Levi stood from his desk and approached you slowly.

“Oi, you’re shaking like a damn leaf. Take a seat on the couch, I’ll get some tea for your nerves.”

He stood close, but didn’t try to reach out. Somehow, he always knew how to approach you, no matter the state you were in. Instead, he just stood beside you for a moment, letting you see he was only a pace away and listening. You could have cried from relief right then and there had his offer not reminded you why you were here.

“Yeah…Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, shuffling over to his couch and plopping down in the corner seat. After a moment, he joined you with two cups of tea. He sat yours on the coffee table, then took a seat on the other side of the couch to observe you. After you’d downed a couple of sips from the warm mug, you sighed and closed your eyes.

It was now or never.

“So, your friend. Do you want to talk about it, or keep guzzling down the drink like a horse in their troft and rob me clean of tea?”

Nearly coughing over the chuckle you tried to suppress, you showed him a thankful smile.

“If you have the time, I’d like to get it off my chest.” You admitted, deciding to keep your eyes fixed on the mug in your hand rather than meet his inquisitive stare.

“I have the time. You think I poured us both cups if I didn’t?” He mused. To others it would have sounded like a scoff, but you knew him well enough to know he was only attempting to lighten your mood with crass humor.

“Well, I’ve told you before how she…oversteps my boundaries often.” You started slowly.

“And I’ve told you before you should kick her ass to the curb. You let one get away with it, and suddenly there’s a line of people demanding ‘their right.’ “

“Okay, firstly,” you chuckled, setting your tea down. “I have. She walked out, and I’m done entertaining her. Secondly, you’re one to talk. You let me get away with all kinds of things.”

“…That’s different,” he muttered from behind the rim of his cup, switching his gaze from your face to the window on the adjacent wall.

“Well, I uhm…She’s gone now. But, didn’t leave without a few harsh words. I’d hoped so hard she wouldn’t be like the rest, but in the end…A simple difference in preferences had her changing her attitude. I’ve always respected her decisions, I’ve always addressed her by she or her, and I’ve always respected how she feels about partners. But she can’t do the same for me? Because I’m not like her?”

You took in a deep breath, shuddering as you reached for your mug once more. Levi watched on in silence as you drank your fill and slowed your breathing, mulling over your words.

“Well, for starters, it’s a damn good thing you aren’t like her. She sees everything at face value; doesn’t dig deeper for any sense of meaning or value, and couldn’t even if she tried.”

You chanced a glance his way, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over yet again.

“She told me…She said that I can’t stay in between lables and expect to live a normal life anyone could understand. And maybe she’s right. Either way I’ll stay myself. But to think there might be some truth to what she said…”

“I’ll stop you right there. There isn’t.” He stated in a tone so sure and confident you nearly believed it yourself.

“Who gives a fuck if you’re a man or a woman? Or neither? Or both? Or what’s in your pants? Or whom you sleep with, and who you don’t. You don’t truly fall in love with one’s body or gender. Real love is seeing that person’s soul and understanding it. Learning with it, growing with it, healing with it, and all that other mushy shit.”

You took a moment to really absorb his words as your tears flowed freely now. You couldn’t be sure which emotion was running strongest through you at the moment; sadness, or relief?

“I…I never mentioned to love?” You whispered, chancing another glance his way.

With an expression similar to a child being caught in a wrongdoing, Levi’s eyes widened slightly and his lips were quick to close tightly.

“I…Just meant that, either way…Whom you love, whether they be a friend or a partner, shouldn’t be based on their preference of your identity.” He muttered softly, his eyes trained back on the cup in his hand. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have sworn you saw the tips of his ears flush a slight pink hue. Then again, maybe you didn’t know any better just yet.

Again your heart stopped, but this time not out of grief or fear. Turning to the side so as to face him better, you brought your knees up to your chest and cradled your cup close to your chest.

“Well…Since you brought it up…” you swallowed nervously and cleared your throat. “That’s what I was talking about with her. As much as it scares me…And excites me…I think I’ve finally found that.”

“Found what?” Levi asked slowly, eventually meeting your gaze with curiosity.

“Love,” you replied softly, feeling your face heat up and your hand begin to shake once more.

“I was telling her…Maybe I’m ready to take that chance, now that I understand what I feel. She was telling me that…I have to expect that every guy has needs, and while that’s not something I’m comfortable exploring…Love is. Romance, and affection found through things other than touch.”

He listened to you intently, looking deeply into your eyes as if searching for a question he hadn’t yet asked. But of course, you knew it was there. Eventually his silence made you worry, and you tucked in on yourself a little tighter.

“M-maybe she’s right, that any guy would get tired of waiting for something that may or may never happen but…I’d like to think she’s not.”

“She’s not,” Levi finally murmured, never breaking eye contact with you from across the couch.

“Not everyone feels or acts that way. Some of us feel the same way you do.”

“ ‘Some of us’? “ You asked, your tone just as quiet as his. He only nodded, giving you all the answers you needed with a simple gesture.

“So then…you…” A crack in your voice halted your question as your throat seemed to dry out.

Could he really, truly understand?

“Never been interested, never cared. Not after everything I’d seen growing up.”

Normally he would have closed off more when the conversation drifted to his life down in the slums, but it seemed he truly wanted you to understand something now.

“The things I’ve seen, and heard…The things they forced my mother into doing for table scraps…It was a deterrent from something I didn’t want any part of to begin with.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to drag the conversation here-“ He cut you off with a shake of his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I want you to know I understand, in some way or another, that you aren’t alone in feeling this way. And that…I won’t ever judge you for any of it.”

Uncurling your legs and loosening the grip on your mug, you fully faced him with a warm smile.

“And neither will I, to you.” You promised him softly, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks.

He turned too, so that he could face you fully from across the furniture.

“So then…What you said about love?” He asked cautiously, and you could practically feel how he sank further back against the armrest.

“Yeah, I may have been talking with her about you,” with an embarrassed chuckle you drained your mug and set it back onto the table.

“If-if that isn’t something you were thinking about before I won’t-“

“Would I be gripping the armrest with worry for your response if I hadn’t? I didn’t just open up for nothing you know,” he muttered, averting his gaze once more. And this time, you were sure of the color that filled his cheeks.

Relief washed over you, filling you with the courage it took to scoot a little closer to his stiff figure. Looking back over to him from only a cushion away now, you smiled.

“In that case, would it be too much for me to admit I like you a little?”

“Only if it’s not too much for me to confess I return those feelings, Y/N.”

[heyidkyay]

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Part two

You asked for a part two and so I delivered! Wasn't too sure where to lead with it at first so.. hopefully it's up to par and you actually enjoy it! Anyway, thank you for the love on part one!!:)

Summary: (From anon) Just wondering if you would ever consider writing a Matty fic where he falls in love with a fan in the audience of a show?

Warnings: food, brief mentions of anxiety

Part One

--

The concert drew to an end. As all things tended to do. And still, I found myself sort of floating.

It was strange, I just wanted to simply stand there whilst the rest of the crowd ebbed around me, slowly making their way out of the pit, back to reality.

Matty and the rest of the band had since departed, the stage now deserted after having blessed the crowd with an encore. That last song had been something else.

“What was that last one?” I heard myself ask out loud, blinking out of the hazy daze.

Rosie glanced back at me from over her shoulder, plaited hair falling down her back. “What’dya mean?”

Lewis squeezed my shoulders as he and his boyfriend passed us by, I smiled up at him and gave them each a hug goodbye, already having promised to talk again soon after having swapped numbers a little while earlier.

Rosie was still waiting for my reply once the couple had set off, working their way through the restless mass made up of forlorn fans. I actually could relate, which was something I didn’t think I’d be experiencing this time around.

She quirked a brow.

I took a second to sort through my many thoughts. It still felt as though my mind was whirling, sort of like coming down from a long-lived euphoric high.

“That song- the last one they sung. What was it?” I replied, and I could feel the slight crease in my forehead as I zeroed in on her.

Rosie’s face gave away her evident surprise to my sudden interest but she was quick to replace it with an enthusiastic grin. “The Sound. You liked it then?”

I found myself nodding at her lightly as I hummed my approval. I could actually still hear the song’s lyrics, playing on a loop in my head. Still hear his voice.

I snapped out of it though the second that I realised something was off. My head snapped to my left then to my right, eyes darting about. “Wait, where’s Tea?”

I watched my younger sister’s eyes widen as she quickly came to the same conclusion. Frowning, her gaze drifted all over the place in search. “Tea?” She called out, but only the strangers surrounding us glanced back.

“Tea?” I repeated, only this time a little louder. But still, no reply. 

Fuck. I dragged a hand through my hair, searching. Oh god, was I so fucked…

“Tea?” I called out again, panic rising in sudden waves throughout my chest. “Tea!”

Rosie was now a little way a way, shouting out her best mates name too, jumping to look for her over the heads of the slowly dispersing crowd. “T-ea?” I heard her drag out, my heart clenched she looked as distressed as I felt.

I turned towards the nearest group and tried to swallow down some of my hysteria. If I’d lost her… shit, I dreaded to even think of what would occur.

“Have any of you seen a girl?” I asked them, eyes still scanning the masses. 

I huffed slightly, realising that that probably hadn’t been the best question to ask. There must’ve been over a couple thousand girls in this very arena. I swallowed again thickly, my anxiety was palpable.

“I mean- she’s about a head shorter than me. Brown hair. Blue top.” I attempted to describe, using a hand to taper off her height against me, but they all just shook their heads in return. “Right, okay.” I sighed in defeat, already moving onto the next as I briefly thanked them.

But there were only more shaking heads.

More, “No, sorry”’s.

I wanted to scream. How had things flipped this quickly?

I took a moment to simply inhale, knowing it wouldn’t do anyone any good if I was an inch away from a meltdown. Tea was a big girl, she could take care of herself. In fact, she’d probably just gotten swept up in all the excitement and was already waiting near the exit for us. 

“Y/n! Y/n!”

My head spun in every which direction, trying to place my sister’s voice in the sea of people.

No, no. 

No, ah no, no- 

There!

And there Tea was too, stood right beside her!

I thanked every star in the nights sky as I darted my way over to them, blood rushing in my ears now that the bubble of panic had finally burst. I gripped them in a tight hug the second I could, my relief evident. 

“I swear to every God- I am this close to having an actual aneurysm!” I all but panted to the two teenage girls, and as I held up a hand to demonstrate just how close I’d actually been I could see that my hands were shaking. I willed myself to take a couple deep breaths, calming the slightest. “Don’t do that again. Please? I can not afford to die at the hands of either of your mothers. I want an open casket at my funeral and something tells me they wouldn’t leave me a pretty sight if I lost either one of you.”

Tea gave me an impish smile, looking truly apologetic as she gave me a sorry, whilst Rosie merely snorted at my dramatics, clearly over the whole catastrophe now.

“Oi, you three.”

I jumped out of my fucking skin at the sound of the sudden deep voice which had come from right behind us. Still riding out the adrenaline and anxiety(!!) I’d just been drowning in, I leapt around, eyes wide, only to come face to face with some big burly bloke. I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“Christ! I just about pissed myself!” I breathed out, placing a hand over my erratic heart and noting how he gave the three of us the once over. My brow pinched. “Look mate, can we actually help you?”

“You the girl from earlier?” Was all he replied, his face as blank as canvas whilst he jutted his chin out towards me.

“Um…” My mouth opened and shut in confusion, severely caught off guard. He was like a stone wall of a man, it was hard to even fathom him being an actual human too and not just some robot or emotionless machine. Thankfully Rosie was there to save the day. As per usual, at this rate.

“She is. Why, who’s askin’?”

I glanced over towards my sister and bit back a small chuckle at the suspicious expression she now wore. Completely uncaring for the fact that this guy was three times her size.

He stared her down. She stared right back. 

I ground my teeth together then, frowning as I crossed my arms over my chest to join my younger sister in this weird face off.

“Sorry, have we done something wrong?” Came Tea’s polite little voice, and the bloke and I both turned slightly towards her, whilst Rosie continued scowling, undeterred.

“No,” The man said, moving an arm up to gesture out over towards a point a little further away. It was that motion that allowed me to catch the laminated tag on the sleeve of his black polo. Security. Oh. “Someone backstage asked after the girl from the show’s end. The one who spoke with the lead singer.”

My head reeled back at this information. “What’s that meant to mean?”

But both Tea and Rosie were already squealing quietly to one another behind me, talking in that squeaky high pitch tone of theirs. My brow furrowed further as I averted my attention, not even questioning my sister’s sudden change in mood. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to at this point, lets be honest.

I had to withhold a massive sigh.

The security guy gave no reaction to the girls- probably used to it by now too, having had to deal with thousands of them at each show, I could only suppose.

He glanced towards me, “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to catch sight of you to be honest, but you’re pretty hard to miss.”

I felt the flush as it crawled its way up my neck, recalling the state I’d just been in. I must’ve looked a right twat, screaming and shouting about for Tea. Of all the names in the world, hey?

But I fought my way through the mortification, smiling up at the bloke as though it was a regular occurrence.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m glad something came out of it then.”

The man’s demeanour cracked the slightest bit. I saw it in the tiniest curl of his upper lip, a barely there smirk. I grinned victoriously.

He then hummed, “So, if you’d like to follow me backstage?”

My grin fell as quickly as it had came. But the girls’s squeals only grew louder.

“Backstage.” I reiterated slowly, blinking up at him owlishly.

The bloke nodded just once. “Backstage.”

“Like now?”

“Now.” He replied, that emotionless mask making him hard to argue with.

“Right…”

Rosie shook my shoulders, practically bouncing in her stance. “We’re gonna meet the band! Oh my fucking God, Y/n, we’re actually gonna meet them!”

I looked over at her, alarm swimming in my eyes as I tried to match her enthusiasm. “Seems so.”

—

I was a jittery mess.

Who the fuck knew just how many corridors and hallways there were hiding around back here… I don’t think anyone could even begin to comprehend just how much work seemed to be happening either. Mics, cameras, crew: backstage was a proper hectic mess. 

God, Backstage.

Because shit! We were actually behind the stage! As in, on our way to meet the cocky headed twat of a singer who had spotted my ugly mug in an arena full of them.

How? Why?

What was I even supposed to do- to say- to people like them?

It seemed like Rosie and Tea were just as bad though, if not more so. I’d never seen Tea so pale, and my sister… well, she had yet to utter a single word since we’d been given these badge-things. I flicked at it aimlessly. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her so quiet. The two friends were practically clinging to each other now, all moon-eyed as they surveyed their surroundings.

I had to swallow past the lump in my throat, as well as the oncoming nerves, and instead decided to try and attempt to converse with the woman the security bloke had passed us over to. If only to distract me.

“Sorry, can I ask, what’s it that you do here?”

I hadn’t known what else to ask, if I was being honest. Work seemed like the easiest topic, other than the weather, as well as having been the first thing that had come to mind.

She didn’t seem to mind it though, smiling politely over at me as she directed us down another hallway and past some sound technicians.

“You’re fine, lovie. I’m just an assistant of sorts really, help out where I can. Mainly in it for the music and the money though.” She said with this gorgeous sort of laugh that had me settling slightly.

“So you must get to meet all sorts of people then.” I prompted and it helped us fall easily into a real conversation, her describing some of the faces she’d encountered throughout the years she’d worked at the arena, as well as reliving a couple of wild tales about what typically went on behind the scenes.

She had me in actual stitches over this one Coldplay story that had occurred a few years prior- apparently Guy couldn’t hold his drink as well as he claimed he could, which had led to the fire-brigade being phoned and a head having had to be extracted from a toilet bowl.

So by the time we’d come to a stop, I’d almost completely forgotten the reason as to where we’d been headed to in the first place.

“Shoot me.”

I peered over my shoulder at Rosie with a confused frown, wondering what had caused the painful croaking sound she’d just made. But then, well…

“Shoot you, now why would we do that?”

My eyes closed instinctively at the sound and I was thankful that I still had my back  towards the doorway of the room we’d since paused by, because I was already able to recognise that voice of his. Which in itself was baffling beyond belief. But also, I didn’t think I’d ever be prepared to look at him again. Not this soon at least. 

Rosie squeaked at having just been spoken to by her idol and I really couldn’t help the snort which escaped my mouth. Because if there was one reason for older siblings to exist then it was merely to laugh at their younger ones expense.

“Ah, come on, darling! Don’t laugh at her, she’s just starstruck, ain’t you? Not everyday you get to see a face as fit as mine.”

“Or meet someone who talks completely out of their arse.”

That was the voice I did eventually turn back around for, wanting to place the person who had Matty huffing in a strop.

“Oh fuck off would you, George?”

George? George…

Oh! Immediately my eyes found Tea and the poor girl’s mouth was hung wide open, tongue practically licking the carpeted floors as she stared at the band’s shorthaired drummer. If Rosie wasn’t in the same position right now I’d bet my life on the knowing that she’d lord this over her best friend for the rest of time. 

“Oh no, please do continue! I’d honestly love to hear more.”

Every face in that room darted towards me then and I had to hold strong, fighting to keep the small smirk that had taken hold instead of cowering under their sudden stares. Fuck, this whole groupie thing was well hard. Internally, I cackled to myself. I couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

“I like her.” The drummer announced with a small shrug of his shoulder, pointing over at me with a cardboard box full of- was that chow-mein?

“Ooh, any more of that going ‘round?” I asked him, my stomach gurgling at the very smell. “I’m fucking starved- drink always has a funny way of turning me into a ravenous teenage boy.”

“Yeah, I like her too.” Another announced, and I titled my head over towards the long haired man who was lounging on a bright orange settee. “And you lot can just go ahead and help yourself, always get enough to feed a tiny nation.”

I grinned, thanking him as I swanned past Matty, who stood almost bewildered, to gravitate towards a large table full of takeout.

“This what us common folk have been missing out on then, hey? Who would’ve guessed that rockstars had a thing for Chinese food rather than just sex and alcohol.”

“Um, young ears?” Someone else chimed in.

My head lifted and landed on a tall figure who was now leaning in another doorway, one which led elsewhere I presumed. I seemed to remember myself then, but waved the blond’s weary caution off. “Oh yeah, they’re all good. Probably said much worse in truth.”

A light laugh came from beside me and I smiled over to my right, already knowing just who it would be. “Alright there, Curly?”

“Me? I’m great. Figure you are too, making yourself right at home there.” Matty retorted, grinning wickedly as he watched me steal a few dumplings.

I shrugged, wiggling my brows as I bit into one. “Have to, I’d be shitting myself otherwise. Intimidating lot you are.”

The long haired bloke just snorted loudly whilst George gently beckoned Rosie and Tea further into the room, nodding his goodbyes to the woman who’d led us over. I shouted out mine too just before she could disappear behind the frame and received an amused smile in turn. I frowned slightly, wishing I’d had the foresight to grab her name beforehand, she’d really been great.

“Alright, I’ve got to know your name.” Orange settee resident all but demanded, holding his fork up at me. Seemed we shared a brain.

I smiled, moving across the floor to join him. 

“Give you mine, if you give me yours.” I quipped, having nestled myself into the sofas other end, tucking a foot up under me.

He cocked an eyebrow, mouth pulling up at both sides.

“Wait, you two were actually serious when you said she’d never heard of us?” George quizzed the girls with a gleeful sort of laugh, vastly different to that of his husky low voice. 

It was then that Rosie decided to shake herself out of the dreamlike daze she’d been living in, visibly taking a deep breath before she answered him. 

“Um, yeah,” Another breath, then she plastered on a smile and carefully took perch on a nearby ottoman, Tea sliding in quietly beside her, eyes still honed in on a certain drummer. “Yeah, we all but dragged her here- mum wanted us safe and what not, but we didn’t want her spoiling our fun. So…”

“So big sisters do come in handy. Or at least I’m assuming.” Bearded bloke concluded and I withheld a long sigh whilst the girls nodded at him.

“Alright, seeing as we’ve established the fact that I’m in desperate need of a debrief. Can I get all of your names now? ‘Cause I can’t keep calling you bearded orange bloke, and you tall one in the doorway.”

“Bearded orange bloke?” Settee man with the fork parroted under his breath, obviously not too big a fan of the nickname. Matty was laughing away though as he threw himself between us the two of us, kicking his feet up on the coffee table after having gifted the girls a couple cans of coke. I tired to hide my endeared smile by inhaling another dumpling.

“That the best you could come up with, really? What name did you have for our G then?” Matty questioned me, and I had to pull all my focus on answering him instead of how our arms were now touching ever so slightly or the way his brown eyes were hyper-focused on me.

I hummed around a mouthful of food whilst nodding. “Don’t make fun, and I already knew George’s.”

“Wait, hang on. You can fuck right off. How’d you know his name and not any of ours?” Matty exclaimed, wrinkling the skin between his brows, seeming properly offended by the mere idea.

George looked far too pleased with himself though as he continued to tuck into his food and I glanced up just in time to catch my sister’s look of warning, but paid her no mind. 

“The pit is a place of the people.” Is what I decided on, rather than opting to further embarrass the two teens. My gaze landed on the drummer as I spoke and I gave him a wry little smile before I continued on, “There were lots of lovely looking girls out there screaming your name.”

“Ah, what can I say?” George gave us all a put-upon sigh, but he was smirking. “Although can I just say, it’s a right shame you didn’t happen to join them.”

“Who’s saying I didn’t?” I quipped right back. But my teasing was cut short when Matty piped up, apparently feeling a tad left out now.

“Come off it. Did you see how flustered she got when I nabbed her attention?” He challenged his bandmate with a delighted grin, leaning further into my side as he did. His dark playful eyes flicked up at me, mirthful and alive, they really had a way of pulling you in.

“Uh, maybe because you singled me out in a crowd of around ten thousand people?”

“Twenty actually.” The smartarse responded, and I tried not to outwardly react when his hand came to rest on my knee. “Full house tonight.” He squeezed lightly. 

The rest of the band whooped loudly and it was sweet to see them so sincerely proud of themselves.

“Twenty thousand?” Rosie parroted, looking baffled by the sheer thought.

“Mad, ain’t it?” Matty grinned at her and I smiled behind a loose lock of hair when she blushed, having caught his full attention. I felt her pain. It was a lot, being trapped under his intense stare.

“Insane.” She breathed, and thankfully Tea was the one to save her.

“Does it ever get overwhelming?” The girl appeared a little startled by her own question when everyone turned to look towards her, and she found herself spiralling to clarify, eyes shifting back and forth between us all. “You know, being up there. In front of that many people.”

I let myself relax further into the settee whilst the boys begun to converse with the girls, telling them funny tales and answering their many, many questions. And the girls seem to follow soon after, gaining the courage to poke fun and simply enjoy themselves in the presence of their favourite people. 

When we first got asked to head backstage, this was far from the image I’d pictured. 

But still, I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world. Especially when Matty’s grip seemed to tighten on my knee almost subconsciously whenever he chattered away, gesturing this way and that, but his hand never moving.

[nametakensff]

hello! Love your writing! I’ve never played D/isco E/lysium but read your fics anyway because they’re just THAT GOOD. Anywayyy this ask is actually abt your incredible steddie writing! was wondering what your steddie head cannons are in the mutual fetish au?? Maybe before they discover the fetish is mutual - How do each of the boys feel about sneezing in public? Embarrassed or could care less? How do they usually cover (or not cover lol)? Do they excuse themselves? Are they able to stifle or control their sneezes? Do their sneezes change if they’re sick vs allergies vs random tickle? Are they courteous sick people or clueless patient zeros lol? Any and all additional thoughts are more than welcome bcs I currently have brain rot after reading your series!!

Ahhh!! 😭💕 Thank you so much, anon! It means the world that you would read my DE stuff even if you’re not into the game yourself ✨️

As for S/teddie, I do have some headcanons that more or less continue throughout the series, though I haven’t read any of my fics back in a while so I apologise for any glaring inconsistencies 😅 I’ll answer your questions then see what else there is to mention!

💕 S/teddie Mutual Fetish AU headcanons 💕

(Loooong answers under readmore! Some NSFW things, naturally)

Maybe before they discover the fetish is mutual - How do each of the boys feel about sneezing in public? Embarrassed or could care less?

🖤Eddie🖤

He doesn’t mind sneezing in public in general – like, the odd sneeze here or there. They’re not nearly as loud or attention-grabbing as Steve's. However, the issue is that he has fucking awful allergies. Not just seasonal ones like his hayfever and mould in the autumn, but to a ton of chemical scents like perfumes and hairsprays, then also dust, and feathers…He’s just got an extremely sensitive nose. Combine that with the fact that he is prone to multiples and often has drawn-out fits if he can’t escape the source of irritation, it is less than ideal. If he’s having a rough time, and hasn’t been able to take any medication, then the sneezing will draw a lot of attention that he just cannot be bothered dealing with.

Another issue is that he gets off to his own sneezing – especially if he keeps going. So he has to deal with the humiliation of people watching and maybe cruelly judging him and the risk of popping a boner.

So, to summarise: a couple of sneezes here and there are no problem at all. He won’t think too much about it. He’ll probably even enjoy it and the odd blessing he gets from friends. But sneezing in public when his allergies are going haywire? Super embarrassing, incredibly unfortunate. Finding out about Steve’s mutual interest is a game changer for him – he becomes stupidly exhibitionistic around Steve but also gains a little more confidence in general.

💙Steve💙

He hates sneezing in public. He’s good at hiding that he hates it, but still – it is not fun. Because others sneezing is so intensely sexual for him, he feels uncomfortable doing the same around other people. Steve’s sneezes are also very loud, and he is terrible at holding back and stifling. Given that his sneezes are big in general, they can get messy fast. Huge, spraying affairs that make everyone around him jump several feet in the air. It’s just no fun for him at all, though he has enjoyed the flirtatious blessings he often gets from the girls he courts (or rather, courted before Eddie).

Steve is more prone to colds than Eddie. I don’t see him having any significant allergies except for to the odd scent – but when he does have an allergic reaction, his sneezes are just as colossal. I haven’t explored it a massive amount but I’ve really been thinking recently about him being a photic sneezer – not horribly sensitive, but bright sunlight will make him sneeze a couple of times a day unless he takes the precaution of wearing sunglasses.

After getting to know about Eddie's mutual fetish and starting their relationship together, Steve is still pretty embarrassed about sneezing in public. He learns to love indulging his boyfriend, and the fact that Eddie gets off to how big and loud and messy his sneezes are makes him feel marginally less disgusting. Even still, I don’t think it’s something he would ever really get used to.

How do they usually cover (or not cover lol)?

🖤Eddie🖤

He will, if in public or has it on hand, try and cover with his bandana or one of his handkerchiefs. Since he tends to sneeze regularly, he’ll more often than not have these with him, occasionally a pack of tissues. When at home, he will still sneeze into things – if not his bandana/handkerchiefs or tissues, then shirts and blankets. He enjoys the way the fabric feels on his poor nose. He tends to wriggle his nose around a lot, and really gets indulgent with rubbing it. He tries to do this less in public to avoid having a visibly pink nose.

He sneezes openly a fair amount as well – sometimes the tickle, especially from allergies, is too much for him so he’ll just let it go and wipe whatever he may have baptised after he’s done lol. I think because he’s such a sneezy individual, if his mind is otherwise occupied (working on music or a D&D campaign, for example) he would sneeze whilst barely acknowledging it, perhaps leaning towards his shoulder briefly.

If Steve is around, he will happily sneeze uncovered, covered, all over Steve etc – whatever will get him the most worked up. He loves when Steve holds handkerchiefs for him to sneeze into and melts if he starts massaging his nose for him.

💙Steve💙

He tries to cover. God help him, he tries. But he is often so paralysed by the build-up and so slow in his movements it’s all he can do to turn away from anyone in the potential splash zone when the sneeze hits.

If he manages it, he’ll sneeze into his elbow or a tissue, but more often than not he’s either making a total mess of his hands or the hastily raised collar of his shirt.

He also likes when Eddie covers his sneezes for him, but only in private, and it takes a lot of getting used to since his sneezes tend to render whatever is being used to cover them useless pretty quickly. The first time he sneezes a tissue in Eddie’s hand to pulp is mortifying, even though Eddie is pretty much dying of arousal.

Do they excuse themselves?

🖤Eddie🖤

He will excuse himself and sometimes bless himself, but it isn't an automatic habit to do so. He’s obviously got a loud and audacious reputation, so on occasion I can see him not particularly giving a fuck about being overly polite and excusing himself in front of a random stranger, and definitely not in front of people he dislikes. He will gentleman the fuck up in heartbeat around most women and girls, though. He can be a lot more chivalrous than people realise.

💙Steve💙

More so than excusing himself, he will outright apologise. Depending on the situation, though, in order to avoid more attention, he just won’t mention it at all. Fake it 'til you make it, right? He's totally not embarrassed, not at all, nope.

Are they able to stifle or control their sneezes?

🖤Eddie🖤

He is a habitual stifler and he is exceptionally good at it. Only when his allergies or a cold are really kicking his ass, or he’s completely alone and the tickle is strong will he fully let go. (To be fair, his allergies are often kicking his ass, so.) I think he tends towards natural half-stifled sneezes – or when the sneezes are let out, they’re certainly not screamed. When they are loud and open, you know his nose has been thoroughly tickled.

He can hold back sneezes pretty well, at least if he’s able to sneak off somewhere to relieve the pressure every now and then. A lifetime of year round allergies has trained him well.

💙Steve💙

Steve’s 'stifles' are louder than most people’s sneezes anyway, and they tend to hurt, so he doesn’t really bother. He *wishes* he could stifle properly, but it is simply not in the cards for him.

He’s also terrible at holding back. If he needs to sneeze, his body is making him sneeze, doesn’t matter what he’s doing. He finds it exasperating, and the only thing that makes him feel better about it is how much Eddie is aroused by his total lack of control.

Do their sneezes change if they’re sick vs allergies vs random tickle?

🖤Eddie🖤

His natural/random sneezes are incredibly soft and airy. They tend to come in multiples like all his other sneezes, but not as many – maybe triples? When he has allergies, his sneezes are much more vocally desperate and tend to be quite wet – ultimately, he can makes quite a mess also. It’s just unavoidable, becoming that drippy with such a persistent tickle in his poor nose. His cold sneezes are pretty violent, but not too different from his allergy sneezes other than they tend to get messier much faster.

💙Steve💙

All of his sneezes are big, but his cold sneezes are messy from the get go. He goes through an absurd amount of tissues and handkerchiefs. They also tend to sound a lot gruffer and more nasal, simply because he gets so, so stuffy. He gets so blocked up on occasion that his sinuses audibly squeak in addition to the already loud, messy sneeze, so that fucking sucks for him!

Are they courteous sick people or clueless patient zeros lol?

🖤Eddie🖤

He is as courteous as can be. He’ll try and wash his hands as often as possible, he’ll cover his sneezes, he’ll (for the most part) try to keep himself away from other people. He really hates the idea of being perceived as gross; most of his boisterous persona is a kind of shield to control the way other people feel about him. If he’s being loud and performative, he’s the one in control of making people feel that he’s crazy. If he’s got a cold and can’t stop sneezing and sniffling and coughing, he is very much not in control. He’ll happily ditch school or work, if possible, to avoid becoming a spectacle in this very not-in-his-control way, and will do the same with particularly bad allergy days.

He will also, for the record, ride out the rest of his illness by jerking himself off in the comfort of his own home. If the sneezes keep on coming, so does he <3

💙Steve💙

This poor guy tries his best, but if Steve has a cold, and it’s tickling his nose, he is best avoided until well. He will absolutely be a patient zero, even if he doesn’t mean to be. It can take him a good few sneezes before he even clocks onto the fact that he's getting sick. So many factors are against him – he’s terrible at covering, his sneezes are huge, his sneezes spray a lot and make a great deal of mess…nobody is safe. Remember that he also tends to catch his sneezes in his hands, which he can't always immediately wash, especially in the middle of a work shift. He’s a walking, extremely apologetic germ factory who ought to stay in bed.

Other headcanons:

Eddie keeps pepper in his room canonically; he totally snorts this for a little rush, and thoroughly enjoys the sneezes. If he's bored in his room he'll induce for fun, which often leads to masturbation

Eddie is a dramatic exhibitionist, and has a lot of fantasies involving humiliation and being degraded for his frequent sneezes. He would eventually explore these with Steve

Steve used to induce in private growing up – until he figured out that this was a sexual *thing* as a teenager, and ever since he stopped. Inducing for Eddie, or being induced by him, is an incredible rush because it feels so thoroughly taboo but also quite healing in terms of internalised shame

During fetish play, Eddie will take the lead more often than not, at least in the earlier stages of their relationship. He fucking loves when Steve takes control, though; as their relationship blossoms he’s delighted to see Steve’s confidence grow. Steve isn’t hung up on sex in general, not even remotely, but like I mentioned above, it takes a little time to really embrace this fetish and assert what he wants without external prompting

Eddie will purposely hold back and walk to whatever room Steve is in to sneeze openly in front of him. Steve would do this if he could, but Eddie’s gonna hear his sneeze no matter what – sometimes even over whatever metal record he’s blasting

Eddie would absolutely invest in a super decent camcorder for ‘creative purposes’ like music – but he would totally also film himself sneezing for Steve on it. Steve would eventually do the same for him, and they would have their own little collection of tapes

I think Robin would eventually figure out the fetish and absolutely rib them about it – she’d tease Eddie a lot more because Steve would simply combust and die

Neither are especially comfortable with the idea of disclosing the fetish to other people - when Robin figures it out, they beg her to keep it secret. It's their private, special and personal joy.

Both are bisexual and both came to terms with their bisexuality because of each other

Steve feels initially insecure about his ability to talk dirty about sneezing purely because he feels like his vocabulary isn't expansive enough or he isn't creative enough, especially when Eddie just starts oozing pure filth at the drop of a hat. He gets over this suuuper quickly when it becomes apparent that it makes hardly any difference to Eddie - Steve saying "Gonna sneeze" is more than enough eroticism for him. Steve could sniffle in his ear and he'd be getting hard

That's about all I can think of for now! I hope this continues to fuel the brain rot, anon! 🥰

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Elusive: A Stardust Conspiracy Fanfic

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: "I know you're in there somewhere" fight

A Bad Batch Fanfic ~1100 words

Synopsis: Crosshair regrets allowing Omega to bring her pet criceto onto his ship

With thanks to @kybercrystals94 for giving me your blessing to write yet another Stardust fic! This is a continuation of the adventures in 'A Cosy Bed' Stardust originally introduced in @kybercrystals94's fic 'The Stardust Conspiracy'

“I know you’re in there somewhere… I’m going to reach you if it’s the last thing I do!”

Uncharacteristic passion lit his voice, warming his words to a fervent growl. Crosshair paused for breath, dragging a forearm across his forehead to remove the perspiration beading there, before diving back into the computer console of his small fighter shuttle.

In the darkness of the ship’s innards, the scurrying continued.

Crosshair’s arm shot forwards, outstretched hand grasping. His cheek was pressed tightly against the control panel as he groped blindly for the target which eluded him, tauntingly close and yet just out of reach.

“Karking creature,” he swore, wishing he had eyes on the target. If the ship had only been made of plasglas instead of durasteel, he would have had her by now.

“I… know… you’re… there…” he grit out, twisting his arm at an awkward angle as his fingertips swept the inside edge of the hollow console. A gasp as something brushed against his thumb, and instead of grabbing he pulled his hand back in shock – and received a shock as he tangled his wrist in the live wiring of the computer.

“Kriff… karking… fuck!”

“Crosshair?” Tech’s voice floated in from outside the ship. “Are you well?”

The imperial-sniper-turned-mercenary dragged his arm free of the cables, shaking his wrist out and sucking at the electrical burn to soothe it.

“I’m fine,” he snarled with enough acid to deter further questioning. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Very well,” came Tech’s reply, clearly dubious. “If you do require any assistance, you have only to ask.”

Stubbornly, Crosshair knew he was going to refuse that offer. Omega’s criceto was missing, and he was determined to one-up Hunter by finding it.

Next time the kid came to stay with him, he was refusing permission for her to bring the karking pet.

He turned to the back of the cramped fighter, digging through Omega’s overnight bag until he found the pouch of criceto treats. He scooped out a handful and wriggled back under the flight controls, back to the small dark opening where he had removed the panel to try and reach the damned criceto where it had gotten into the ship’s wiring.

“C’m’ere, Stardust,” he muttered, threading his arm into the opening again and this time managing to avoid the wires as he rested his hand, cupped and full of treats, just above the floor of the compartment. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Just get… the kriff… out!”

All his training, all his enhanced skills, rendered useless in the face of a foe too slippery, too evasive, even for his lightning reflexes. He was beginning to understand how Hunter felt, the first time Stardust escaped.

Taking a deep breath, Crosshair cleared his mind and tried to quash the urgency he felt to find the missing pet quickly. He was a sniper. Patience was his thing. He could wait for hours for a target to move into position. This was no different. He just had to wait it out.

It was harder than he thought, knowing that Omega and his brothers were in the Marauder across the landing bay, waiting for him and probably wondering what was taking so long.

Tiny paws against his fingertips. Crosshair bit down against the instinctive desire to convulse and snatch his hand away, breathing hard through his nose. He didn’t like fighting an enemy he couldn’t see.

Warm weight settled on his fingers. He could hear the nibbling sound as Stardust helped herself to the treats from his palm.

Slowly, he tried to lift his hand.

The fuzzy creature clung to his curled fingers, and Crosshair cringed against the feeling of tiny claws digging against his flesh and the criceto scrambled for purchase, half her weight in his hand, half dangling.

She lost the fight against gravity and dropped.

“Kark it!”

Crosshair snarled and darted his hand out immediately, the momentum of his lunge taking him forwards with such force that he cracked his temple against the console. Blinking dazedly he snatched once, twice, in the darkness, and was rewarded with a startled squeak as his hand closed round the criceto.

His triumphant yell was cut off by a bark of pain as sharp teeth sliced into his knuckle, and he quickly loosened the pressure of his grip. Carefully holding the criceto in the cage of his fingers, he extracted the angry, struggling ball of fur. He wasn’t sure if cricetos had feelings, but it seemed to him that Stardust glared balefully as she was dragged into the light.

“More trouble than you’re worth,” muttered Crosshair, pulling the criceto close to his chest and cradling her as he crabbed awkwardly over to her cage. He plopped her in without ceremony, returning her glare, before grabbing the rest of the bag of treats and upending the whole thing into the cage.

“Stay. There,” he hissed, fastening the door, then double checking every catch on the setup.

He thought about the lost handful of treats inside the console. He’d have to clean those up, or if he did let Omega bring the criceto again in the future the karking creature might break out again to try and get at them.

He stood and stretched, trying to work out the kink in his lower back from folding his six-four frame into the tiny cockpit space to retrieve the hamster. Then he stopped, realising Tech was still stood outside the fighter.

Tech covered his mouth to hide a smile.

“You could have asked Omega to retrieve Stardust,” he observed with a lilt of laughter in his voice. “She is quite adept at it.”

“I managed,” said Crosshair sullenly, rubbing a thumb against his bruised temple and then popping his bleeding knuckle into his mouth to clean the wound.

Tech’s hand dipped to his belt pouch and retrieved a small bacta plaster which he held out without comment. Crosshair took it and wrapped it round his injured digit, then grabbed Stardust’s cage and heaved it out of the jet, passing it down to Tech.

“Omega is in high spirits,” Tech told him with a smile. “It seems she enjoyed her week with you whilst we were on mission.”

Crosshair grabbed Omega’s bag and shouldered it, swinging down to fall in step beside his brother.

“My ship is too small for two,” he growled, “let alone three. Next time, the criceto stays with you.”

Tech smothered a chuckle and peered into the cage he carried, where Stardust was industriously burying her motherload of treats for later.

“Whatever you say, Crosshair.”

[slow-burn-sally]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @totallysilvergirl for tagging me <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

171

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

2,559,305

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I live for the days when anyone asks me this question, because listing things I love is just so great. I don't actively write for all of these any longer, but I would go back to all of them if anyone threw me like, half a prompt.

BBC Sherlock

Good Omens

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

The Terror

Our Flag Means Death

What We Do In The Shadows

The Adventures of Tintin

The Hobbit

BBC and CBS Ghosts

Pacific Rim

Father Ted

Lord of The Rings

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Death In Paradise

Dalgliesh

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Crowley's Game - Good Omens (Ineffable Husbands)

2. Return To Sender - Good Omens (Ineffable Husbands)

3. Silk All Around You - Our Flag Means Death (Ed/Stede)

4. Oh Good Lord - Good Omens (Ineffable Husbands)

5. Out Of Suffering Into Love - Good Omens (ineffable Husbands)

hmm. Guess GO fandom is where I've cashed in the biggest, kudos-wise *Raises a glass to Good Omens Fandom*

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to as many as I can, and I want to respond to all of them, but ADHD and work and life keep me from doing it right away, and then ADHD and being off work and life make me forget. I will sometimes loop back around to read a new comment, then see that I never replied to another, far older comment, then go about replying to several, two years after they were left. I hope people don't mind. I promise everyone who's ever left me a positive comment, that I eat them all up like chocolate bonbons and count myself blessed for each and every one.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably that Childercelles fic where Henry dies in the end. I think maybe 10 people read it. If you're in JSAMN fandom, and you ship Childercelles, and you want a link, PM me, but I can't remember the name of the fic for the life of me. It was pretty angsty. Outside of that, I hate angsty endings. Everyone eats ice cream and cuddles at the end of my fics.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Gonna echo the wonderful @totallysilvergirl and say that I don't do unhappy endings. That Childercelles fic was the only one I think I ever wrote with an unhappy ending, and even that was more of a melancholy ending. Everything else is Häagen-Dazs and rainbows.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten a few harsh criticisms, and a few snarky comments, but never actual hate.

9. Do you write smut?

I sure do! I've written a whole lot of smut, and I really love it. Regardless, it can be challenging sometimes. I have to be in the right place, and have the right focus to write smut, and lately, it's been feeling more labor intensive. I've been taking a step back from the explicit stuff lately, and playing around in M rather than E, and less sexual waters for a change. Sometimes a gal needs a break. I'll always happily write it for others, but don't feel inspired to write it for myself right now.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I really see my Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell/BBC Sherlock crossover as my first and only crossover. It involves main characters from both fandoms meeting one another, and John and Sherlock live in a world where England's history is the same as the history in JS&MN. It's been a very fun experience, but I'm really writing it for @keirgreeneyes 's birthday, because we share a lot of stuff between those two fandoms, not because I love crossovers. I don't feel drawn to them at all usually.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. Someone came to me a couple of years ago, saying they were being bullied over accusations that they were plagiarizing my good omens fic. They even showed me the fic people talked about, and after scanning it for a bit, I didn't see anything that looked like plagiarism. I posted on tumblr saying I'd rather people plagiarize me than cause one moment of suffering due to bullying, and left it at that. I was really just jazzed to have people *want* to plagiarize me, honestly. It was flattering.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! In Korean I think.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I'm not sure I could. I also don't like cooking with other people or showering with other people. I just like having the reins on writing and cooking and showering fronts I guess.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh god please don't make me choose. My children, my precious children. After careful consideration though, I'm gonna have to go with Crozier/Jopson - Jopzier from The Terror. I mean. Come on. It's me.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I wrote many chapters of a really fun, but really complex and pain in the ass multi-chapter mystery fic for the rarest of rare pairs, Jack Mooney/Florence Cassell from Death In Paradise. So yeah, I would love to finish it, but I don't have the spoons, and it will have a readership of roughly four people.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I write good dialogue. I write good smut. I can make up stories at the drop of a hat, and then put them down very quickly, in large amounts of words. I'm a long distance runner when it comes to fic. I like my sense of humor in fics, and I'm always so happy when someone leaves me a comment telling me they laughed really hard at something I wrote. Ditto incoherent babbling about my fics making them horny. Those comments are so good.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Eh, my weakness is I'm just not an amazing writer? I do it because I love it, and it brings me so much joy, and people reading my fics brings me so much joy, and that's pretty much it. Also, I use a lot of run on sentences, and I have like six tropey things my characters always do, and I can't break out of it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I didn't understand this one. I would love to write dialogues in other languages if I spoke them fluently. Outside of speaking a bunch of Spanish, I'm not fluent in anything but English.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

eeeeeeeeee @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl my first ever fanfiction was BBC Johnlock! I tried writing a fic, probably back in 2013 or something, and gave up after a handful of paragraphs. I just lacked the confidence. Then, it wasn't until 2019 when I went nuts for Good Omens and wrote a bunch of fic that I wanted to go back and write that one, first, Johnlock fic. And I did it! It's Homecoming. BBC Sherlock is my first fanfiction fandom, and my introduction to fanfiction.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh wow. That's a tough one. I really loved my one Father Ted fic, A Sweet, Hot, Sticky Romp, because I loved emulating the comedy style of the show and thought I did a good job.

I loved Out Of Time, my Jopzier time travel wackadoo fic for The Terror.

I guess I'll stop at two. I've written 171. I should get at least two favorites.

I tag @fol-de-lol @ilthit @yeswevegotavideo @keirgreeneyes @holycatsandrabbits

[justagalwhowrites]

Bestie!

🪲because I always need more of your writing.

🐝 because I want to support those who support you.

OMG Hi Bestie!

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here: I’m hoping to put up Yearling tonight so… instead of that, here’s a bit from a DBF!Joel one shot I’m working on called Stranger in a bar:

“What are you going to do?” He asked, voice almost stern.

“Make myself come on your face?” You more asked than answered.

“Better sound more sure than that,” he said, fingers moving to your clit. You gasped and moaned at the contact. “Come on baby, what are you going to do? Say it. Own it.”

“Come on your face,” you panted. “Fuck, Joel… I’m going to come on your face, I’m going to make myself come on your face, please…”

“Good,” he said, going back to eating your pussy.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them: OMG This is so hard, so many of you are so so lovely and I see the same names crop up again and again in my notifications and I'm so thankful for it. @dundienominee is so wonderful, incredibly smart and sweet and talented! And she puts up with all my angst which... god bless her. @sawymredfox always makes me smile when I see her name crop up, her asks are always so thoughtful and make me reflect on things and I so appreciate her! @reds-ramblings is so supportive and kind and I always feel like I can count on her to be there for whatever I put out. @covetyou is such a talented writer and so so so supportive! @pedropascalsbbg is always always always so enthusiastic, their comments are such great motivation to keep writing. @daniegraceg always has great thoughts and insights to share. Just so many wonderful, wonderful people I’m sure I missed so many of you! But know that I love you and I’m so happy you’re here!

EDITED TO ADD BECAUSE I JUST WAS LIKE OMG I MISSED THEM!: @knopes-waffles who is a brilliant artist and all around beautiful person and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who is such a great fic author and just so lovely and @diversemediums another author who is so talented so kind. I know I’m still forgetting people! But I love you!!

Thank you for reaching out, Bestie! Love you!!

[firewoodfigs]

Tagged by the resplendent @roseofbattles :)

TEN GOOD THINGS IN 2023

1. New York / poetry readings — sometime around September, I got to feed an old, ostensibly impractical dream that’s emerged and lurked around since two decades ago. I wrote a poem and got to read it aloud in a wonderful art studio around Chelsea, teeming with so much talent and heart, thanks to the incredible @mirabile---visu. Thank you, dear friend, for giving my poem a home. I will remember this forever and hold dear to heart all the honest conversations we had over pizza, art and wine <3 you are such an inspiration and I can’t wait to see you again! Thank you too to the insanely talented @go-haywire for putting my words into print and allowing them to rest in a well-bound sanctuary — I carried it with me in New York as a lucky charm, and will always be eternally grateful for your generosity and faith.

2. New Zealand — sometime in April, in between jobs, I got to visit the amazing @tsaritsa in NZ, and it was two weeks of peace and great novelty, including but not limited to riding on a horse, feeding penguins, and donning on a firefighter costume! We also walked a ton and talked a lot and gazed upon a blanket of stars. Thank you for all your hospitality and love which I will never forget (and see you in 2024?!)

3. Other travels — I travelled a lot around Asia this year, for work and for fun! I got to see the cherry blossoms for the first time in my life with Japan with my partner. We also got to celebrate his birthday there, and it was an all around lovely trip; I’m really happy he got to have this break because he’s been truly working so hard in 2023. I also ushered in the new year with a dear friend in South Korea; the fireworks were nothing short of spectacular! We got a strawberry shortcake after and returned to our cute little apartment to just wind down and pen down our hopes for 2023 :) I also got to visit Thailand, Vietnam and Malaysia for work, which were really exciting experiences!

4. Job switch — sometime in April, I was confronted with this HUGE dilemma of staying here in my hometown or moving to… a tax-free desert… the latter meant I’d at least be able to stay with my previous firm, but after a lot of coffees and deep consideration I decided it was better to move on to someplace else and stay put so I could spend more time with my partner. In hindsight it was probably the best decision I could’ve made; 2023 has been quite emotionally distressing for us and I would’ve hated to see him ensure all of that alone. I was mildly apprehensive at first about the switch, but I’ve been really blessed to have the most wonderful colleagues and bosses and am really excited to see what’s in store next :)

5. Meeting new friends, and in a similar vein, catching up and reuniting with old ones :) New York was a dream, in large part due to meeting some of the most luminous souls I’ve had the serendipitous pleasure of knowing during the pandemic—first over a screen, and then in person, over karaoke, and bagels, and coffee, and ice cream, and of course fried chicken LOL. @x-rainflame-x @roseofbattles @nightofnyx8 @beware-thegemini @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee @annespelledwithane it was so so precious getting to meet you all in New York and I will cherish our time there together forever!

6. Learning a language—I try to learn at least one new word a day, and I’ve also been working on my Japanese since moving into a Japanese firm. It really helps as well to have colleagues that I can practice with—I took classes briefly in college but it sort of just drifted out of my memory after the pandemic because I didn’t speak it regularly, but now that I do it’s been super fun!

7. Getting into Spy x Family — and consequently, getting back into fic writing :) all of this is @nightofnyx8’s fault btw, now I have to pretend I like this stupid fake family a normal amount (when I’m just obsessed an unhealthy amount lmao)

8. Fraud/investigations work — this basically consumed the entirety of my Nov/Dec and there’s not much I can divulge about it (apart from the fact that it pretty much aged me by a decade) but… I felt like Loid Forger and it was fun being a spy for a month. the end

9. Dealing better with anxiety (?)—question mark because my progress is… questionable. On one hand I think I’ve gotten a lot better at regulating (or perhaps suppressing) a lot of associated feelings, but it still gets frightening on occasion when the dam breaks free without much prior warning. Regardless I think it’s a marked improvement from the countless menty bs back in college lmao. To be very frank, having a stable income of sorts has helped a great deal; in college I was constantly plagued with the fear of not having enough to purchase required materials or at times food, and it was just a lot to deal with. It felt like there was no room for failure because I only had myself to rely upon, and success was the only tenable avenue out of poverty, but being able to now obtain necessities and even additional wants has done wonders for my mental health. It’s true that money doesn’t happiness, and I spend a great deal of time daily mulling over capitalism and consumerism and the like, but I cannot deny the sense of security it affords.

10. And finally, falling deeper in love everyday :) it’s easy to think we know a great deal about someone, except we don’t. People may appear simple, but the truth is we’re all a work in progress, and by extension, a continuing story. I could read a million books and write a million poems, but beloved, believe me—you will always be my favourite.

Goodbye 2023, and hello 2024!

[carmenized-onions]

CHAPTER 9 LETS FUCKING GOOOO (get ready for a yapfest, where most of it will probably be uncomprehensible because language can’t begin to capture the emotions your writing makes me feel) also !! add me to the taglist please and thank you<3

It is t-minus three days, until the worst Friday of your life. - already nervous and the chapter just started but fuck it we ball

you figure it’s probably just the breakfast from yesterday at La Mattina settling in your stomach— the way you scare me but still make me laugh

He does not care this much, he doesn’t even have basic reading comprehension— RICHIE HELL YEAHHHHH (and he calls her cousin🥹)

also big shout out to you author for making it so clear which texts were sent by what person (so how her texts are cursive and richie’s texts are bold) bc some fics make it so hard to differentiate who’s talking/texting!!<3<3

daddy - POR QUE. i know he didn’t mean it like that but shshshdh

See u chip - this is the cutest nickname!! everyone in that poll can fight me idc idc

It’s time to eat a whole freezer cake and lay in your pyjamas all day and interact with not a single soul on this entire planet. - me celebrating doing the bare minimum!! (but it’s still huge to me so i understand chip well)

To the air, more accurately, but, y’know, same thing. - [cries in norwegian]

You’re gonna get dinner, with Richie, this Friday. - OMGGGG HINTS FOR FRIDAY👀👀

THE SWITCH OVER TO CARMEN HELL YEAHHHH - fuckn delicious freezer cake for you author!!

He really needs his sister. - 🫶🏼 i feel like this is layered (like the carmenized onion)

you’re gonna work as a bottle girl for the rest of your life - his worst nightmare fr, worse than the restaurant closing actually

he’s never gonna get his shit together so he’s never gonna get to call you his - SHUT UPPP HOW COULD YOU DROP THIS ON ME😭😭

He’s still gonna be him - BABYBOY THATS NOT A BAD THING😭 LET ME PROTECCCC

Sisyphean nightmare - YOUR WAY WITH WORDS I LOVEEEE IT

He smells your shampoo, in his hair, that helps. - the way your chapters always make me cry from either the fluff or the sad

he has to hide his smile with his hand - THEM

So good to him, too good to him. Too good to anyone - 😭💓🫶🏼😭🫶🏼😭💓

Carmen so, so fucking desperately wants to ask you to come to The Bear, right now. - BALEGDEH

he knows it’d be perfect cannon fodder to be teased into oblivion. - NO BC LIKE IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS *A LOT* WHAT WILL RICHIE THINK OF CARM AND CHIP. Like thinking of how he and mikey acted at christmas after seeing claire makes me wonder how he’d act when finding out about carm and chip (also carm is only able to date girls with c names apparently <even tho chippy is a nickname but hush>)

looks to his best friend - 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

he’s not you. - LMAO

he can’t find your repair expenses anywhere on here. - OOOP CHIPPY IS ABOUT TO GET CAUGHT

“I’m not fuckin’ high, cousin—” - ISBRIFBRIRKR

also bet carmen doesn’t have a problem with the two hours when it means TWO HOURS OF CHIP IN HIS RESTAURANT WHERE HE CAN SNEAK GLANCES AT HER

“What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?” - the way you’re nailing his voice!!

“S’ not dark, kinda, it’s just, y’know. Personal.” - WAY TO BUILD TENSION AUTHOR. it’s very clear you’re a(n amazing) screenwriter

Mikey got to do that first, too, eh? - STAPH

he's willing to admit it, for you. - RICHIE AND CHIP BESTIES YEEEHAWWWW

“You really wanna fuckin know, huh?” Richie tilts down his head, teasing. - i love this

“Oh, fuck, you fuckin’ like her, don’t’chu, cousin? You fuckin’ dog.” - SKJDIDJFKD

Y’have my blessing. - CUTE

“Didn’t ask for it.” - CUTER

“Don’t gimme no talk back, she was my boy first, a’right?” - CUTEST (ok carmy is cutest but im doing a thing here)

“Gone, cousin.” - it’s cute that you think that richie!! have a cookie!!

“Uh, one sec, I just need to finish this fuckin’—” He shakes his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck this is.” - again nailing his character

If he had a… lapse in behaviour, and it got back to you, would that ruin him? - you forget how she met you carm, having a meltdown in the freezer

He needs to find your invoice. - he’s so cuteee

Maybe he should just ask you, instead. Let Nat thank you for the heating pad she’s been loving, properly. Have dinner, all together, in an actual family home, instead of just each other's apartments. That'd be nice. - that’s so sweet but i fear it won’t happen, at least not YET

He’ll make you something off menu, on Friday. - HES THE SWEETEST

You’re coming before the rush, anyways, he’ll have time to play, on Friday. - 👀👀👀

He’s gonna do right by you, this Friday - he owns my heart

But right now, it’s Thursday night, and you’ve finally finished Carmen’s piece for The Bear - OMG I FORGOT ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE, THE CUTEST GIFT EVER

You know you told him if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to put it up, but admittedly, if he doesn’t like it, you will be crushed. - mood

Each square a snippet, a photo transfer. The squares themselves are messy, sun damaged, bleach stained, light flared. All twinged blue and yellowish. But so perfectly cut and curated. - the way you make it so easy to picture it, ugh we stan!!

Mikey. The only transfer completely unbleached, unaltered, unruined. He’s holding two cut outs. One, Food & Wine and the other, a small section in the off off off pages of the New York Times. - SHUT UP THATS THE CUTEST THING EVER TO EXIST

So so proud, silently, just with you— Couldn't look soft. Carmen does not know this photo exists. - Im gonna cry

You can only imagine the stress you could’ve eased, during their fire safety test - chip is such a slay

*the piece* is magnificent and perfect in every way and you did that!!

You took inspiration from the way his brain works - AWWWWW:3

He’s awfully inspiring. - the love that they have for each other is just everything. they are everything

You’re excited, to show this to him tomorrow, on Friday. Hopefully all goes well, on Friday. - EVIL

You’re gonna do right, by Carmen, on Friday. - SOULMATES🫶🏼

I almost briefed over all of these past few chapters to be nothing more than snippets in a chapter - i really really REALLY appreciated that you did in fact not do that

if you made it through this whole ask, god fnkn bless, looking forward to the master’s thesis i’ll write in your askbox after the next chapter

I had no idea people could make asks this long; like i mean on a character count level-- Did anyone know you could do this fr-- ANYWAYS I WANNA YAP BACK BUT I'M GONNA PUT A KEEP READING BUT PLEASE DO OPEN THIS THERE'S GONNA BE A POLL I WANT YOU CUTIES TO ANSWER

First of all, of course I will add you to the taglist, thank you for the gift of an essay everytime, i love u <3

I am ALL about Fear and Laughter. If I ever make business cards, that'll probably be the tagline. We ball.

It did make me laugh that you went RICHIE HELL YEAH after 'he doesn't have reading comprehension. I buried the lead on who the he in question was on purpose, and i was wondering if everyone would clock at that line immediately oh, it's richie. I'm so mean.

As for texting, I did read another person's fic and saw they put like screennames and sending times and i was like ah fuck, shoulda done that, but continuity,,,, so i didn't switch it up. Plus I enjoy thematically that Tony is italics, Carmen is italic/bold, and Richie is bold. I feel like it just kinda makes sense, character wise, that Tony and Richie are on either end of the spectrum and Carmen is inbetween.

They've gotta get an HR if Richie says daddy to anyone's face besides Tony frfr,

And THIS is where the new poll comes in, because you all SAY YOU WANNA FUCKIN KISS MIKEY, SO

Personally I do like Chippy a lot, not to colour your opinions. You'll see why i like it, eventually. And I'm sure when that happens we'll talk about it ad fuckin nauseam (and I'll eat it up, I will)

I love doing Carmen's perspective, it's like free therapy, realizing the way he and I both think is fucking crazy and I need to relax. He really does need his sister, poor bug. I genuinely do wonder how that's gonna be handled, in season 3.

HIS LITTLE STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS PANIC YESSIRRR, Bottle Girl Tony = Hell, Never gonna actually date Tony = Mega Hell, He's Still Gonna Be Him = Super Awful Ultra Hell

So many (2) people enjoyed Sisyphean nightmare, I think I just have tumblr accent, honestly.

I'm so glad, that the shampoo thing happened honestly. I know that's crazy to say it like that, as the writer, as I planned it, but i didn't think I'd be able to call back to it all that much-- But I get to call back to it so fucking much, and it's always either heartbreaking or adorable, or both, and I lovveee both.

The idea that anyone has been thinking about a plot line that has yet to arise alot is like-- Like my brain melted. Like that's so. I'm a puddle. Puddle in your hands. BUT YES, I did have to think on that absolutely. It's a weird line to tow, right? Because Richie's gotten more respectful since then, and he's actual friends with Tony-- But like,,, bro is still a bro, at the end of the day.

CHIPPY IS ABOUT TO GET CAUUGGHTTTT, thank god someone laughed at the I'm not fuckin high line, I was worried.

“What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?” - the way you’re nailing his voice!! Did you see my ask saying i'm never sure about Carmen's dialogue and are now trying to reassure me? It's working, if you are.

WAY TO BUILD TENSION AUTHOR. it’s very clear you’re a(n amazing) screenwriter Daww, too nice to me, it IS really how I think Richie would navigate this Chip story, though, you'll see why there's,,,, pause about it, eventually.

“Gone, cousin.” - it’s cute that you think that richie!! have a cookie!! Listen, we don't KNOW how many times Tony's listened to Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Probably would need more than a single word though, Rich. A touch dramatic, cousin.

All Tony and Carmen wanna do this Friday is impress each other, and that's totally exactly what's gonna happen idk what y'all are buggin abouttttttt

I'm so glad folks like the piece, i was worried I explained it bad/it's just kinda stupid-- I just felt like, Carmen doesn't give abstract art vibes. I felt like photography worked a lot better for him. It also gave me the opportunity to slip in more Mikey, of which I think he is mentioned literally at least once every chapter. Bro is the phantom in the pages. i adore him.

I am also very glad that I didn't end up doing just snippets from the Consultation chapter to now. I was worried they'd give off filler vibes, when turned into full on chapters, but looking at them all now, i'm like it would've been an insane injustice to not give them all full breathing room. And now i think there's a lot more to sink into and give a fuck about!! Which is gonna make Friday hurt all the more <3

Anyways, thank you thank you for yapping, and i seriously need to go the fuck to sleep fuck i'm gonna be so groggy for work i'm gonna NAP ON THE BUS AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!!