#the answer my doves will always be pacing

[rosiecosy]

the hickey scandal˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(ot13 x reader) — fluff

you were bored.

which, in seventeen’s world, usually meant chaos was about to happen.

and today’s chaos? a fake hickey.

a little smudge of red and purple eyeshadow on your neck, just barely peeking out from under your collar. it was perfect.

you casually strolled into the waiting room where the members were lounging, sipping on your drink like nothing was out of the ordinary.

but seventeen was seventeen. and seventeen noticed everything.

"wait." dino’s eyes locked onto her neck immediately. "wait, wait, wait, WAIT."

"…what?" you blinked innocently.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" he practically shrieked, pointing at your neck like it was a crime scene.

"what’s what?"

"DON’T PLAY DUMB," seungkwan hollered, already on his feet.

"oh my god," mingyu gasped, nearly dropping his phone. "IS THAT A—"

"IT CAN’T BE," joshua said, but he sounded disturbed.

seungcheol stood up so fast his chair scraped across the floor. "come here."

her eyes widened. "uh… no?"

"Y/N," jeonghan said, voice dangerously soft. "you’re hiding something."

"i’m literally not—"

"WHOSE HANDS HAVE BEEN ON YOU?" hoshi suddenly dove across the couch, grabbing your shoulders.

"GET OFF ME—"

"who is it?" minghao asked, completely serious. "do we know them?"

"are they alive?" wonwoo muttered darkly.

"let’s not jump to violence—" joshua started.

"violence is the answer," woozi interrupted.

"GUYS," you groaned. "IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL."

"NOT A BIG DEAL?!" seungcheol exploded. "OUR BABY HAS BEEN—"

"—DEFILED," jun finished dramatically.

"STOP SAYING THAT," you yelled.

vernon, sitting quietly in the corner, just stared at you. "damn."

"NO, NOT DAMN," SEUNGKWAN SHOUTED. "VERNON, WHY ARE YOU CALM?!"

"she’s grown," vernon shrugged. "let her cook."

"COOK WHAT?!"

by now, the room was absolute chaos.

seungcheol was pacing. seungkwan was having a meltdown. dino looked like he was about to cry. jeonghan had gone completely silent, which was somehow worse.

woozi, arms crossed, stared at you. "if you don’t tell us who, we will find out."

"guys, please," you sighed, barely holding in your laughter. "it’s really not that deep."

but before you could say anything else—

mingyu grabbed his phone. "i’m calling our manager."

"WHAT?!"

"we need to check security footage," he said seriously.

"YOU ARE NOT CHECKING SECURITY FOOTAGE FOR THIS," you screamed.

"i already texted them," joshua said calmly.

"OH MY GOD."

"y/n," seungcheol said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "if you don’t tell us the truth right now—"

you opened your mouth—

but then dino sniffled.

you froze.

"we raised you better than this," he mumbled, eyes glossy.

"OH MY GOD, DINO," you cried.

"i can’t believe we have to let her go," jun sighed dramatically.

"YOU DON’T HAVE TO LET ME GO, I’M STILL RIGHT HERE—"

"it’s always the youngest ones," vernon muttered.

she looked at woozi desperately. "help me."

he shook his head. "you brought this on yourself."

you groaned, slumping onto the couch. they were never going to drop this.

and at this point… telling them the truth was way less fun.

so instead, you sipped your drink, shrugged, and said—

"i guess you’ll never know."

that was the final straw.

"GET HER."

you barely made it two steps before twelve very determined members tackled you to the floor.

[chemical-processes]

Absolutely love it when past-me makes editing and working on my WIPs living hell

[takes1]

p.2 kuroo x hard to get!reader

i'm rlly glad everyone likes this as much as i do lmao

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. m!masturbation / jerkin it in the shower / pining!kuroo / unrequited?crush / hard to get!reader / manager!reader / training camp setting / implied degradation kink / implied play fighting thing / kuroo is a switch / kuroo with a big...ego / player!kuroo / 1.7k words - maybe a sneaky link part three? reply to be tagged

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu here. part one. next part. requests open.

After today, the only way Kuroo would be able to handle so many confusing signals and unwanted emotions was to carve out some time in the shower and 'work it all out.'

"F-uck," Came out way whinier than he expected it to.

He pushed his furrowed brow into his forearm, a scowl carved into his mouth at the sound.

The tension there faded fast.

What the fuck was your problem? Was there some cosmic rule that prevented pretty girls from being nice?

He wracked his brain to remember that one little moment you smiled. How it softened that mean-ass pout you held so well, made you look leagues more approachable. Maybe that was why something had possessed him to point it out and ruin it so quickly.

For now, stuck like a picture in his mind, it wouldn't fade so fast.

But the tightness stuck across his stomach softened, and so did the edge he had worked up.

"Mm-hn," He smiled, lifting his head from the nook of his elbow with a small chuckle.

Maybe that didn't do as much for him as your frown, after all.

Thinking about that sweet, preoccupied moment made him feel a little more guilty for beating it to you. You looked too sweet to fuck with. At least when you treated him like a dog, it was like you both had a shared understanding of what he was really doing. He didn't have to hide it or lie; he wanted you, and you played it off like you weren't into it.

That was the problem.

He seethed, palm stalled for a moment before he let himself go.

With slow, sobering effort, he flipped around to lean back on the tiled wall. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shower door and couldn't comprehend why you didn't find him attractive enough.

A lifted, bulky arm revealed an impressive array of serratus muscles in the foggy glass, little abdomen lines dipped and crossed and dove down to his v-taper. The guys always joked that he was could pursue a career in modelling if this volleyball thing didn't work out, save for the messy hair; he knew he wasn't some ugly, sniveling little loser-- so why didn't you act like he was?

He puffed out a harsh, frustrated sigh and pumped himself with a frown.

Were you playing around, just teasing him, and playing hard to get? Or did you, for some inconceivable reason, not want him back?

Shit, at this rate, he started to question if he'd be able to cum with no clear answer.

Then that fucking voice of yours, calculated but honeyed, was in his ear- ringing against the shower walls, echoing his name. It wasn't nice, it wasn't real, but it was hot.

A warm huff at the fantasy.

His cock twitched against his grip and leaked clear at the tip, more interested in the image of your perfect tits squished up under that clipboard when you verbally degraded him in front of his rival.

As his hand did an okay job at pumping out the stress of today, his gaze, though hesitant, softened. His jaw relaxed, lips parted, and in the process caught a bit of excess water.

Shit, did he like that?

Your callous, narrowed, and judgey eyes really got him worked up. He spat the mixture of extra water and drool onto himself, gasping at how much better it felt when he pretended it was yours.

If that's all you wanted, just to make him feel less than- well, you were hot enough to roleplay for. He'd be down for something like that if that was all he could get.

He kept a steady pace, breath shallowed and faster, to the thought of you calling him some dirty little nobody who liked beating it to you (it wouldn't be entirely wrong). How disappointed would you be when he came too quick, all because he couldn't handle your tight little pussy?

You could use him all night 'till you came. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, shaky, through his nose.

Yeah, you didn't seem like the type to just lay down and take it.

That was alright with him. He liked sexually liberated women. A little play-fighting, some dirty talk- if you just got off your high horse for one second, he could make it worth your while.

He knew you loved the chase. You wouldn't be watching him so hard at the match if you actually thought he wasn't worth your time. Just one night couldn't have possibly been beneath you.

"Fu-ckfuckfuck," He laughed, seething at how quickly he could edge himself to that bitchy pout of yours, especially the one you'd give him if you found out what he was doing right now.

All you wanted was the power that came with being a stuck-up prude - to feel less dirty than guys like him. At least he had the courage to initiate something.

But at the end of the day, nothing about stroking his cock to you in a shower felt courageous.

Decency and pride aside, he was able to cum hard to the fresh memory of you in that wet t-shirt, watching him absolutely kill that match.

-

In the aftermath, he was a bit standoffish with the team.

The nature of his jack-off session left him feeling nastier than usual. He didn't want anyone clinging on him, or standing too close. Like somehow they would smell how filthy his imagination had decomposed into.

He was successful, not because of how good his evasion skills were, but because the guys were too hungry, preoccupied with cooking, and equipped with no substantial mass-food-prep experience. It was a rowdy kitchen and relatively empty everywhere else.

So he was slumped over the entire couch, wearing only plaid pajama pants and house slippers, watching videos on his phone with glazed eyes.

A knock at the door went ignored.

He popped his head over the couch to see if anyone else was going to answer the second time, but was only met with distant yelling about the rice cooker. Yamamoto hadn't plugged it in like he thought 20 minutes ago, and a stranger might assume he was about to get executed.

Kuroo paused the match on his phone and hopped over the back of the couch. He realized it was raining outside when he touched the cold doorknob and quickly opened it without looking through the peephole.

He looked forward, left, then right- then down. Surprise left his lips through an uncontrollable laugh.

"Sorry-!" He snickered, "Didn't see you there."

It's not like you were exceptionally tiny, but he was expecting Bokuto, if anyone, and especially not a girl.

You weren't laughing. He cleared his throat and rubbed the side of his damp head with an awkward sigh.

The little overhang on the porch was enough to keep you dry as you spoke, so there was no rush.

"I thought the other teams could use this. I made too many," You explained, only offering him a dull tone as you tried not to stare at his shredded body, "Pork buns."

He took the bag slowly, first interested because he was starving, and after a moment, then that you cooked.

"There should be enough for everyone."

"Thank you," He said right away, glancing up to you, at the bag, then back at you.

It was cute. His uncertainty brought a small smile to your face. You covered it up by toying with your jacket collar, and looking down at his pink slippers.

Outside was cold, and wet, and the wind was harsh when it blew every twenty seconds. His first thought was to invite you inside, flirty but well-meaning for the most part, but an instant pang of post-nut guilt, as well as some classical conditioning from earlier today, kept his lips sealed.

You watched a narrative play out on his pretty face. If he wasn't going to keep this up, even after you 'accidentally' made too many pork buns, you figured it was too much effort now.

A sweeter, more natural tone was in your farewell, "Goodnight--,"

"Wait."

He shot his hand out low for a second but took it back almost as quickly.

You stood, turned on your heel, waiting for him. It was what he wanted, but not quite right. His heart skipped, causing his hands to tighten, knuckles white and cold.

A sigh you could barely hear over the rain picking up, "Never mind."

Your eyes ran over his struggling form. He was broken in, the way you wanted, but not quite right. You decided there was no value in teasing him with your presence any longer, so you looked away from the mess you had both made of him.

"Goodnight." The door closed.

Not too hard, not too soft, but in just a way that emphasized more need to clarify why he didn't just slam it, if he was going to close it at all.

There were a number of reasons you hesitated at the top step, watching the rain grow heavier and crash onto the grass, spill over the gutters and flood the sidewalk. It was getting darker and colder by the second. What was so wrong with him? You couldn't quite remember now.

He stood with his forehead on the other side of the door, face twisted with the pain of a shot not taken- but, probably better off than humiliating himself for no good reason anymore. A powerful shame was overwhelming his desire to eat any of the pork buns in his hand.

When he straightened, a long sigh verbalizing the painful movement, he was about to call out for dinner--

You knocked again. Three times, softer in volume, but a loud gesture nonetheless.

The door opened to reveal his shocked, searching expression. There was a roll of thunder.

"Can you... walk me back?"

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

taglist!

@tetsuswhore @shoyosthighs @misachibi @kyokoyya @katsunee

my masterlist. request box.

[moonstruckme]

hello my sweet gorgeous mae!!

how we feeling abt a fic where reader has some difficulty regulating her emotions when she’s upset and just some casual poly!wolfstar dominance. girl honestly just needs a hug and someone to validate her feelings tbh

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!! I did give her a reason for her upset which in retrospect I probably should have just left vague but I hope it doesn't take you out of it and if anyone knows anything that makes them think this relates to me in any way no it literally doesn't why would you think that

cw: somewhat subtle/implicit d/s dynamics (really just a couple joking mentions of "rules" or "bans")

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re grateful to come home to an empty apartment. No sooner does the door shut behind you than the sob that’s been building in your chest jostles its way out. You hug your bag to your front and go to the floor, crying. 

You don’t hold back. You let tears flow down your cheeks and take short, jagged breaths to fuel even more, curling your knees towards your chest and pushing your fingertips into your forehead. 

Your heartbeat is loud enough in your ears that it takes you a second to register the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but you notice when they pick up their pace as they draw closer. Not, evidently, so empty an apartment after all. 

“Dovey.” Remus sounds gutted. You open your eyes, and he looks it, too. Sirius comes up behind him, both of their forms blurring as they crouch in front of you. “What happened?” 

You shake your head. “I—I didn’t—” You’re crying like a child, all choked sobs and snivelly voice. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, that’s okay.” Sirius takes your face in his hands. His hold is firm but his thumbs gentle as they brush over your cheeks. “Just nod yes or no for me, my love. Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head. 

Some of the worry eases from his features, but his brows pinch sympathetically. “Just sad?” 

You open your mouth to answer him, and a hiccup of sobs spills out. 

Sirius makes a pained sound and pulls you to him. Remus murmurs, “Oh, sweetheart.” 

You try to speak again into the material of Sirius’ shirt, to apologize for coming home like this, but both boys shush you, Sirius rubbing your back while Remus gives your arm a squeeze and leans over to kiss your head. 

Remus takes your shoes off for you, and Sirius helps him ease your bag off your shoulder without ever really loosening his hold on you. They move you to the couch. Your boyfriends work in quiet harmony, one always comforting you while the other takes measures to make you more practically comfortable. 

“Dove, listen to me,” Remus says after a while. “You’re going to make yourself sick. Take a deep breath.” 

You try, inhaling only for it to come jerking back out of you on another sob. “I can’t.” 

“You can.” Sirius rubs your back. “Keep trying, baby.” 

They talk you through deep breaths for a while, until you start to calm and it’s only Sirius’ voice in your ear, low and reassuring while Remus goes to get something from the kitchen. 

He passes you a cold glass of water when he gets back, while Sirius is scraping damp pieces of hair back from your face. Presses it into your hands. 

You sniffle. “I’m not really thirsty.” 

“You’re going to be dehydrated after all that. You don’t have to drink it all at once,” he says, and the message is clear: but you do have to drink it. “Take your time if you need to.” 

You take a shaky breath, bringing the glass to your lips. 

“There you go.” Sirius kisses your cheek. You love and hate when they gang up on you like this. You’re between them on the couch, quite literally the center of attention. It’s both comforting and overwhelming. “Now, are you ready to say what’s wound you up so badly?” 

You swallow, nodding. “Sorry,” you say, and you still sound congested, “I didn’t think anyone was home.” 

Sirius tsks. “You know the s word is banned.” He somehow manages to strike a tone that’s both loving and stern. “You don’t get to start bending the rules because you’ve had a bad day.” 

“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t cry when we’re here, either, sweetheart,” Remus adds. 

“Probably wouldn’t have made such a spectacle of it, though.” You attempt a feeble smile. Neither boy looks amused. “It was only that I got my rejection from the Lunds job.” 

“Oh.” Remus' face creases with sympathy. He rubs your thigh. “You really wanted that one, yeah?” 

You shrug, but tears fill your eyes again against your will, dribbling down your cheeks. “I thought I had a good feeling about that one,” you whisper. Sirius starts stroking between your shoulder blades again. “It was stupid.” 

“I’m beginning to think we should ban every s word,” Sirius mutters. There’s no bite to it, though, and when you crack a smile he kisses underneath your ear. “It wasn’t stupid, baby. You were excited about it.” 

Remus’ voice is a low hum. “It’s not just about this one job, though, is it?” 

You look at him, tasting salt in the seam of your lips. 

“You’ve been anxious about all this for a long while,” he says, thumb moving over your knee in a slow, soothing back-and-forth. “I think you put all your stock into this one, and now it’s caught up to you, but this was never the only one that mattered. You can still find a job somewhere else.” 

“I just…” You draw in a breath, trying to steady yourself. “I thought I was so perfect for this one. If they didn’t want me” —your voice wavers— “how can I expect to ever get one?” 

“Angel, I love you, and you know I think you’re a genius ahead of your time,” says Sirius, “but that is some very shoddy reasoning. You’ve no idea who else applied. They might’ve had fucking superman in their stack of applications, and you could’ve been their second choice. That’s not going to happen every time.” 

“But it is still,” Remus tells you, taking your hand in his, “very hard to feel like you weren’t good enough. I’m sure all you’ve been putting in without getting results weighs on you, yeah?” 

You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from bursting into tears again. Somehow Remus always knows how to get to the heart of the issue. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

“Oh, I know, sweet girl.” He pulls you into his side, kissing your head. “You’ve worked so hard. But it’ll all pay off in the end, alright? What’s say we have a break for tonight. No more applications, just relaxing.” 

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees for you. “After a good cry like that, I think a film and some cuddles are in order.” 

“These aren’t already cuddles?” you joke wetly. 

He makes an offended squawking noise. “Not proper ones. Get your cozies on and let Rem make us a hot cocoa, babydoll, and then we’ll remind you what real cuddles are like.”

[wildwestdean]

repose

based on a request made by @chevroletdean! 🤍

a/n: this is a repost, because i tried to edit the main post when half asleep but my dumb ass deleted it instead 😭

summary: you catch a cold while out on a hunt with dean. you refuse to take it easy once back at the bunker, so he takes matters into his own hands to try and help you recover - even if it means bribing you into finally getting some rest

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: some mentions of violence/mutilation in the beginning, established relationship, stubborn reader, reader puts her own health on the back burner, reader doesn't like to feel useless, reader won't take her meds, fluff, a touch of angst, minor swearing, protective dean, worried dean, dean goes full caretaker mode, dean just really loves reader, briefest mention of clothes being taken off, reader gets carried around, more fluff

Dean knew it was a bad idea. 

He knew he should’ve tried harder to stop you, but really, what was he supposed to do? The suspect was about to get away, and you were too stubborn in your ways once you set your mind to something. All he could do was watch as you ran out the door, quickly disappearing within the sheets of freezing rain that were falling while he cursed to himself. 

His first thought wasn’t a declaration of fear that the suspect might get a drop on you. No, despite your appearance, your skills were rivalled only by those of Sam and Dean themselves; they taught you everything you knew, after all. Instead, shockingly, the first thought to cross his mind was: she’s going to catch a cold. 

Hurrying after you, you two easily managed to apprehend the suspect to haul him back to the warehouse for questions, all while Dean grumbled about how you should’ve stayed put and let him deal with it; a rant that only earned him a roll of your eyes in return. You didn’t venture out very far, and while it did feel like you were soaked straight through to the bone, the warehouse was growing closer and would soon offer respite from the downpour - his worrying, like usual, would end up being over nothing. 

Yet the chill you were met with once back in the warehouse almost had you regretting your choice, and had it not been for the sickening grin you were given by the douchebag that Dean was currently tying to a rickety chair, you probably would have. You were convinced it was even colder in here than outside; but you refused to let Dean in on that fact.

He didn’t pick up on it right away, focusing solely on extracting the answers that were buried behind the soulless eyes he glared into. He always enjoyed taking his time when it came to things like this, letting the fear and dread settle in their hearts as he threatened to carve into skin or chop off extremities. It was fun, really, and he was enjoying it right up until you decided to pitch in, voicing your own threat of cutting off a very precious body part piece by little piece.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Dean took on a new sense of urgency to get the information you two needed. You could see it in every choice he made: how his pacing quickened, how his voice got darker and tighter while his patience drained away, how he stopped giving warning before his knife dove into flesh. 

You knew he was suddenly in a hurry to wrap this all up, but what you didn’t know was why. You didn’t know that when you spoke, Dean heard the waver in your voice, the quiet chatter of your teeth as you shivered from the cold. You didn’t think it was noticeable, but when it came to you, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t notice. 

With the increase of effort and decrease of delicacy, it wasn’t much longer until Dean finally got what he needed, and he plunged his knife through skin and muscle one final time before eagerly leading you from the warehouse.

“Wait here,” he requested, gently tugging you back just before you could step outside. 

“What, why?” you asked, silently amazed at how warm his palm felt on your arm despite being just as drenched as you were. “We need to finish up.”

“Just wait here,” he repeated, running out into the darkness before you could even reply. 

Left confused in his wake, all you could do was stand there and wait for him to return, trying to ignore the way your whole body wanted to tremble in response to the frigid air. You really, really longed for a hot shower right now, and the fact you knew you needed to dispose of this body somewhere out in this storm made tears threaten to spill over onto your still dampened face. 

The sight of Baby’s headlights cutting through the curtain of rain was like a breath of fresh air to you, and you yearned to just curl up on her front seat while the heat blasted from the dash. 

“One step at a time,” you told yourself. “Take care of the body, then you can warm up on the drive back.” 

Dean made it clear he had other plans in mind when he pulled up as close to the door as possible, leaving the engine running as he ran back over to you. 

“Heat’s on,” he declared, shaking some excess water from his jacket. “Lock yourself inside, I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Too long doing what?” you asked, totally lost. 

He looked just as confused as you were, not understanding what you didn’t understand. 

“Getting rid of the body,” he declared after a moment, as though it were completely obvious. 

“You’re not doing that alone,” you argued in bewilderment. 

“Yes I am,” he argued back. 

“Dean-” you wanted to argue some more, but he cut you off by taking your face in his palms. 

“Even the screams couldn’t cover up the sound of your knees knockin’ together,” he teased. “Go wait in the car, baby. If you don’t go willingly, I’ll gladly toss you in.” 

You had the urge to say no, wanting to be useful and help him, but you backed down when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you agreed, sighing in defeat. “But if you’re not back soon, I will be coming to find you,” you warned. 

Dean grinned in triumph as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Understood,” he confirmed, guiding you to the car before heading off to carry out his mission. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when you finally made it back to the bunker, that you realized maybe Dean’s worrying hadn’t been over nothing after all. Despite having the heat cranked all the way up in every motel room, those worn down radiators could really only do so much. The piercing winds would seep through the meekly insulated windows, finding you even under the feigned safety of blankets and tight embrace of Dean; not to mention there being no way to avoid the icy blows whenever you made stops along the road. The sheer lack of sleep you got due to rushing back home seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your body was too exhausted to fight off the inevitable. 

It started as a tickle in your throat, which resulted in you continuously chugging back tea and honey; honey that Cas was extremely thrilled to provide you with. Dean was quick to notice you started doing this, and took it upon himself to bring you a mug whenever you were tied up with Sam and looking into some lore, or tirelessly helping Jack understand his latest discovery of the day. 

When the tickle in your throat developed into you having a full blown cough, he bought you your favourite cough drops, keeping an eye on them to make sure you didn’t run out. Though when they seemed to not be enough, he made sure to get you some cough syrup, too. 

He did his best to make sure you didn’t do too much, but asking you to take things easy was like asking a baby not to cry. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had the constant need to be productive, to be helpful. Feeling a little under the weather wasn’t going to change that. Him getting you to see a doctor was nothing short of a miracle, and the fact you were just about as stubborn as him was nearly ironic; he would laugh about it if he wasn’t so worried about you. 

His worry only magnified tenfold when he went to check on you one night, only to find your room empty. He tried convincing you to let him stay with you like usual, but you didn’t want him to get sick, too. He was really regretting not pushing back on that more, now that he found you in the library, lost in a pile of books; he had to take a breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, approaching the table. 

“Research,” you croaked, eliciting another coughing fit. 

“Research?” he baulked. “For what? And why now?” 

You coughed once more, chugging down the rest of your tea before replying. “T’help Sammy. Couldn’sleep anyway,” you sniffled, words jumbled together from congestion.  

Dean sighed heavily, taking a seat beside you. “You didn’t even try to sleep, did you?” 

The lack of response from you told him everything he needed to know. 

“Alright, come on,” he announced, reaching for the book you were reading. 

Your reaction time was definitely slower than usual, but you still managed to pull the book out of his reach just in time. “No.” 

Knowing it would be a losing battle, and that it would probably cause more harm than good to just toss you over his shoulder and carry you to your room, he got up with a huff and left. You assumed he was angry, and felt a little guilty for upsetting him when he was just looking out for you, but you knew you were fine enough to carry on with this for a while longer.  

The last thing you currently expected was for him to return with a bowl of your favourite soup, leftover from when he made some for you earlier, and another large mug of tea, placing them on the free space in front of you before sitting back down. 

“If you wanna be helpful, then you’re gonna sit there and eat while I look for whatever the hell it is we’re looking for,” he ordered, easily snatching the book from you. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, picking up the spoon. “Bossy,” you added, hoping he didn’t see the smile playing on your lips as you feigned annoyance. 

He definitely did, but he kept it to himself as you gave him a cliff notes version of what you were looking into between spoonfuls of soup. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but at some point between finishing the soup and drinking half the tea, you started to drift off; the warmth of his palm on your thigh and comfort of his soft rambling beside you lulling you to sleep. 

This time, Dean knew he would win the battle against you, and he carefully took you in his arms and carried you to bed, staying with you until morning.

Days had continued to go by, and you only seemed to be getting worse. Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was driving him mad - he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. 

He refused to take no as an answer now when it came to him doing things for you, and took over every task you tried to start. He followed you around, practically glued to your side, never letting you lift a finger and being a second pair of eyes when you did any research. 

Research that he tried to stop from coming in by threatening to break Sam’s legs if he didn’t quit bothering you for help, only to find out you were doing it of your accord. 

Even Jack had decided to stop coming to you for things until you were better, since he knew you’d never let him heal you.

Yet Dean knew it wasn’t enough. He knew you needed to just fucking lay down and rest. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to find your side of the bed empty once more, Dean stormed off towards the hub of the bunker as he shouted your name - he didn’t care if he woke everyone up at this point. 

He didn’t stop until he found you in the kitchen, frantically cleaning and completely unaware of his presence. 

“Baby?” he asked cautiously, hesitantly approaching you. 

“'m’not going back t’bed,” you told him, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?” 

“Too much t’do,” you replied simply, trying to breeze past him. 

“Hey, whoa,” he called, gently taking hold of your shoulders. “Look at me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, meeting his gaze after he forced your chin up.

He took note of your distant gaze and pale skin, practically burning under his touch. Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. “You’re really not, sweetheart,” he determined, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You have a fever. Which means you haven’t even been taking your meds, have you?” 

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at his question, before you averted your gaze in guilt. “No.” 

Dean wanted to be mad at you. Well, truthfully, Dean was mad at you. You’ve been doing seemingly everything you could to prevent yourself from recovering, while Dean was trying as hard as he could to help you. He wanted to yell at you, but more importantly, he just wanted to understand. 

“Why?” he asked gently, softly running his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. 

“They make me groggy,” you told him.

“You mean they make you sleep,” he corrected, knowing what it was you wouldn’t say. “I don’t understand why you won’t let yourself rest.” 

You shrugged helplessly, feeling smaller than ever under his searching gaze. “I don’ like feelin’ useless.” 

“You’re not useless, baby. You’re sick,” Dean defended. 

“Still,” you said, not having a better argument. “I need t’help.”

“How about we make a deal?” he suggested, fully understanding how it feels to not want to lay around and not help with anything, all while everyone else seemed to scramble around.

“Like?” you wondered, lightly shoving him away so you wouldn’t sneeze on him. 

“Like,” he said, feeling more and more like this was the best idea. “You leave this mess as is, go take your medicine, and lay down with me.” 

“That’s not a deal,” you argued thickly. 

“I didn’t finish!” he said with a laugh. “You do that for me, and that disgustingly cheesy movie you love so much? Not only will I watch it with you from start to finish, but I won’t even make a single joke about it.” 

“But what about-” 

“Sam and I can handle the mess later,” he said with a sigh, already knowing what you would ask. 

“‘kay,” you sniffled. “Then deal.” 

“Good,” he grinned, not giving you a chance to change your mind and scooping you off your feet once more.

He made a stop at the bathroom first, so that he could help you freshen up and do your usual nightly routine. Lord knows he watched you do it enough times to know it step by step, and he was never more grateful for that than right now.

Once that was all taken care of, he took you to your room to get you fully settled for the night. He gently peeled off your lounge clothes to slip one of his clean sweatshirts over your head before tucking you into bed. He grabbed you a glass of water so you could take your medicine. He hunted down extra blankets to keep by the bed in case you got cold. He settled in beside you, setting up the movie as you nestled against his chest. 

It was barely even twenty minutes in by the time you were sleeping soundly in his arms. Dean smiled to himself, carefully landing a kiss on the top of your head as he carried on with the movie. 

He started to doze off about halfway through, and he knew in his heart that if this was the deal he’d have to make every night while you recovered, he’d gladly do so. There was definitely no shortage of these cheesy movies you loved, and there was nothing in the universe that mattered to him more than you and your wellbeing. 

Besides, even though he’d never admit, these romcoms you liked really weren’t half bad. 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

(sorry for the double tag on this y'all, i'm stupid af lol)

[jsooly]

death in the family (2) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, dad and mom to the rescue. scared for the kids’ safety, they agree to leave… without you?

p.s. i've seen your requests so far and i love every single one! i'm super excited to write them <3

(1) / (2) / (3) / (4*) / (5) / (6*- ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

neytiri had a strong sense of premonition, one that could only develop when dealing with such troublesome children. she knew from the moment jake grounded lo'ak, he would try and do something to regain the freedom he lost.

her youngest son always manages to surprise her with his roguish innocence. not only did he go to a forbidden place, he didn't pull back the moment he laid eyes on the recoms and put his sisters in danger alongside him.

did he think all the rules she and jake gave them were arbitrarily made up?

"neteyam, update your sister on our situation." jake called over the wind. "we might be out late."

behind him, neteyam nodded and pressed his comms.

"lightning bug, this is pathfinder, come in." neteyam was always the best at keeping up code names. lo'ak often slipped in a 'dad,' 'mom," or 'bro' here and there, but as with all things, neteyam takes his father's instructions to the last letter. "hello?"

neytiri cast a confused glance to her husband. it was unlike you to not respond.

"come in, bug, this is devil dog. answer us." jake spoke into his comms urgently.

"did anyone see her before we left?" neytiri asked, pulling her ikran back to match pace with the two boys.

"no, mother."

jake shook his head, running through his memory for a glimpse of you at high camp. he grunted when he came up empty. "m'sure she's just sleeping or something. we got a bigger problem right now."

“i know a quick way!” neteyam yelled over the wind, guiding his ikran to a shortcut.

jake and neytiri dove behind him, hoping it wasn't too late for their children.

. . .

you awoke with a groan, brows creasing as the blur in your vision mellowed out.

"y/n!" tuk squealed softly, thrashing in her captor's grip. “you’re bleeding!”

huh?

your eyes scan the circle you've found yourself in. the recoms got the children on the ground, bound by their queue or neck. faintly, you could hear spider's voice chatting with the commander.

and yes, you were in fact bleeding.

the bullet that grazed the length of your arm left a nasty laceration from your elbow to your shoulder. it burned like hot oil was carefully poured in a line on your skin, and ached like a ten day workout.

you began to sit up when a foot smashed into your chest. the wind was stolen from your lungs and you dropped back to the ground with a choked gasp.

you shot lo’ak a warning look right as he jerked against his captor’s grip. with an unhappy growl, he settled down.

“keep her on the ground.” quaritch snapped.

quaritch. that’s who this guy was—this avatar, rather.

“i hope you realize you almost killed three of my men,” the commander squatted on his hind legs but still managed to tower over you. “thankfully they were saved by that shit aim of yours.”

the three injured were off to the side, grunting in pain as they pulled your deep rooted arrowhead from their flesh. you remembered when you weaved blue and yellow, inspired by neytiri’s signature green and yellow, in the fletching of every single arrow sunken into them. removing them was a slow and painful process, the blade cutting just as much coming out as it did going in.

in a surprising revelation, you found yourself… thoroughly enjoying their struggle.

shit aim or not, they’ll remember the pain when they saw those blue and yellow tufts again.

you scowled, pushing the soldier’s boot off your chest roughly. they must have understood you weren’t much of a threat in your throttled state, because they didn’t move to restrain you further.

lo’ak hissed in na’vi. “(why didn’t you bring the gun?)”

you scoffed at his impertinence. “(i thought the worst you’d come across was a viper wolf, not dad’s greatest enemy. why didn’t you run away when i told you to?)”

a recom nudged your head with the barrel of their rifle. “hey. shut up.”

“(yeah, yeah, i know i was stupid.)” lo’ak cut you off, saving himself from further verbal assault.

“(that's right, and your stupid ass shouldn’t have come back.)” you clicked your tongue.

lo’ak’s face was painted with something between guilt and stubbornness. “(i was trying to help you!)”

“(you had the others to think of!)”

“but—”

"what would it take for you to shut up?!" quaritch whirled, irked from being puled out of his conversation (though it looked more like an argument) with spider. “it’s like a zoo in here, all the yipping and yapping.”

he stalked over to you, eyeing you curiously as he rested his hands on his belt. "matter of fact, why do i even need you?"

the recom behind you pressed the barrel of their gun firmly against your scalp. the distressed whines of tuk wasn't unheard by you, nor was kiri's uncertain promises that everything will be okay.

“hold off, lyle.” quaritch squinted at your face, scanning your features with a laser-like precision.

“don’t tell me… you’re that little brat that was always at his feet, weren’t you? well, wheels is more accurate.” he laughed heartily, looking at his company in condescending awe. “man, that jake sully just keeps getting better and better.”

. . .

night fell and your situation didn’t improve at all. but it didn’t worsen, either.

in the night, pandora grew even more dangerous and the way the recoms were patrolling the area meant they weren’t taking any chances underestimating her.

but then a call rang through. every kid turned their heads towards it. she was easily mistaken for the night noises of pandora’s wildlife, but to her children, neytiri’s voice was instantly recognizable.

you heard a thudding off to the side but saw nothing. before you could even turn your head back around, an arrow flew past your head and into the skull of the man holding kiri.

green and yellow fletching. it was over for them.

the next moments happened in a blur—

quartich pushed spider out the way, letting bullets fly towards the treetops.

lo’ak ripped the pin from a grenade, the burst of gas disabling some soldiers. he sunk his teeth into the recom behind him, tuk following his lead and doing the same.

once he took care of that, lo’ak launched himself onto the man holding you hostage, jumping onto his back and using the momentum to throw him off balance and face-first into the dirt.

“come on,” he grunted, pulling you up and onto his back. you grit your teeth when he squeezed your injured arm, and he murmured apologies when he heard your pained heavy breathing. “tuk, come on!”

he grabbed his baby sister’s hand. running off into the tall bushes and leaves, you caught the glint of neytiri’s arrowhead as she loaded another projectile into her bow.

you didn’t know where kiri or spider were at the moment. still, your brain finally allowed you to pass out from shock and blood loss knowing your parents were there to get everyone to safety.

. . .

“…hunting us. he’s targeting our family.”

“you cannot ask this! the children. everything they’ve ever known—this is our home!”

the words came in one ear, out the other. your head pounded, the thumping echoing in your chest, your ears... the whole world spun around you in a dizzying whirl.

“he had our children. he had ‘em under his knife!” jake's voice sliced through the fog in your mind. you felt him shift beside you, his calloused hand lifting your arm as he rewrapped your gauze.

rewrapped? how long were you out?

“look at this,” jake said, shaking your arm gently, his anger seeping through the tenderness. “he didn’t even hesitate!”

neytiri's voice cut in, louder now as she approached her husband. “my father gave me this bow—” she choked on the words, “as he lay dying. and he said protect the people—”

“honey—”

“you’re toruk makto!” neytiri's hoarse cry electrified the air, pained and anguished. “majake, we must fight.”

“this will protect the people!” jake pushed himself up, his frustration erupting, the words tumbling out in an rush of heat. “they’ve got spider. that kid knows everything. if the people harbour us, they will die.”

in a rush of clarity, your eyes cracked open. still drowsy, the words took a while to finally register in your brain. if they harbor us? where are we going?

“oh, y/n,” neytiri gasped with relief, kneeling beside you and running her slender hand over your head. “you are awake. thank you, eywa.” she whispered.

“are we leaving..? home?” your voice was barely a whisper.

neytiri’s shoulders dropped, her eyes unfocused. jake sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders in a silent promise of comfort.

“look, i got nothing.” he whispered gruffly, low and worn, more to her than you. he met her gaze, a silent plea for understanding. “i got no plan. but i can protect this family. that, i can do.”

neytiri blinked tears from her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. jake pulled her in, his grip tightening.

“dad.” you cut through the tension, your voice unsteady as you sat up. with a bewildered look on your face, you recaptured his attention. “are we leaving?”

jake gave neytiri a look drenched with grief. he scooted closer to you, his palm resting on your cheek. his thumb brushed your skin, as if to soothe your doubt.

then, in a picture of irony, a father reassuring his daughter delivered a killing blow—

“we’re leaving, baby. you’re… going to stay.”

—

“what?” the word tore itself from your throat, disbelieving.

the roof of the marui thundered under the feet of your siblings. done with eavesdropping, their protests rang through the air.

"you're leaving me behind?" you shot up, your feelings about the breach of faith plastered all over your face.

"jake?" neytiri's voice was sharp, a note of surprise in her words as she glanced at him, eyes narrowing.

"it's bad enough that we're not prepared for other environments." jake reasoned. "bringing a human there would make chances for uturu even slimmer."

"'a human?'" you recoiled, the sting of his words cutting deeper than expected. you, his daughter, reduced to just a human?

jake sighed, gazing at you helplessly. "you know i didn't mean it like that, baby."

“you wanna 'protect the family' and you’re abandoning me?” you said bitterly, the disbelief palpable in your voice. “suddenly i’m not a part of it anymore?”

jake’s eyes narrowed, irked by your insinuation. “of course you are part of the family.”

you rolled your eyes. didn’t feel like it.

“why were you even out there in the first place?” jake shifted closer, his eyes sharp as a blade as they bore into you.

“looking for another reason to ground me?” you shot back, voice wavered as the hurt in your chest spread.

“watch it, kid.” jake snapped, tilting his head dangerously. the command in his tone made you want to shrink, but you fought it down.

you massaged your temples, pain flaring up your arm as you were reminded of your body's current limits. jake reached out to you with concern, but you stepped back slightly, avoiding his touch. you couldn't face how pitiful he must look, not when the anger and hurt were still too fresh.

"dad, you're not serious." lo'ak came storming in. "you can't—"

"not now, boy." jake's words were clipped, unable to look his family's in their eyes.

"but sir—"

"lo'ak." neytiri cut in firmly. do not push any further.

"y/n, you will stay with norm and max. that's final." jake said, his tone resolute but tired.

you meet jake's eyes and for a moment you wonder if this was all a bad dream and you’re still passed out on the floor from the gash in your arm. you wonder, did he make the decision lightly, or did he truly have no other options? you wonder if he thought you were old enough to be on your own.

did he realize you had no purpose outside of this family he welcomed you into? if you couldn’t follow them, where else did you have to go?

“dad, i…” you faltered, unsure of what you were trying to say. out of the corner of your eye, you saw neytiri clutching her head in frustration, her gaze fixed on you with silent pain.

“i can adapt. i promise. if that’s what you’re worried about…” you continued, the words spilling out before you knew what you were saying. you weren't above begging, not if it meant staying with the only home and family you've ever known.

jake clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, anxiety and desperation flooding his every movement. “not like this, y/n. the ocean na’vi, they… they are more wary of sky people. even more than our own clan.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “i’ll keep to myself.” you whispered, hope trying its hardest to cling to your promises.

he sighed, turning away. a weight seemed to settle on you both. “no, y/n.”

“yes, i’ll keep to myself. like i always have!" you voice was rising, and your voice croaked as you pleaded with your father. "i won’t get in anyone's way. i won’t talk to anyone. i'll pull my weight too, i’ll cook and—”

"no." jake's voice cracked, anger bubbling over. “i said no! you will stay with norm and max.”

“i don’t want to stay with them.” you were reduced to childish retorts. the only thing you wanted to communicate was how much you needed them and it was flying over his head.

jake grabbed your wrist, lifting your arm slightly. he immediately dropped it when he saw your face contort in pain. “that. that is the best outcome for a run in with this guy. i’m not risking any of you getting hurt, or worse!”

“and your solution is to leave me alone with him around?” you were jake's prideful daughter, something that was only ever a problem when you got into fights. neither of you were willing to back down. so you returned his screaming match with one of your own. “no one else here would care if i was captured, and you know it.”

jake frowned. “that’s not true.”

"yes, it is. and you'd leave me here anyway!" your body couldn't decide which to choose: fight or flight? teetering between anger and distress, your hands trembled. “i don’t have a clan or an avatar to fall back on!”

“it’s final. i’ve decided.” jake's expression was unreadable, his resolve set. he cast a sideways glance at neytiri, who looked onward with silent disagreement. he ignored the churning feeling in his chest.

you laughed humourlessly. “i don’t—what’s so different about adapting to the water than the forest? it’s a learning curve i’m familiar with, i can—”

“you think it was easy bringing you in?” jake's voice dropped to a growl, and he caught your gaze with a searing glare. “you think it was easy raising you, here? i’m not doing that again.”

—

silence fell over the marui, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone. tuk held onto kiri’s hand, both girls’ gazes stuck to the ground. it was a miracle lo’ak hadn’t shoved himself into the argument. instead he was channeling that energy into pacing back and forth. neteyam was the only one strong enough to hold his head high, but a big sister’s eye could catch the way he blinked too fast and his drooping posture.

anyone would see jake was protecting his family, but all you could see was your father abandoning you. was... raising you so much of a burden as he made it out to be?

“jake.” neytiri’s call was soft, a tinge of disappointment filtering through. she rest her hands on your shoulders, as if trying to ease you into something you couldn't understand.

you shrugged her off. a burning ball of emotion was stuck in your throat, and with every shaky breath, the dam was threatening to break.

“it’s… he made himself clear. i’m going.” you muttered, gulping the heartache back down to burn up in your stomach.

jake tensed up when you finally complied. he reached out to you instinctively, but his hand paused midair. “baby, wait. please. you don’t have to go now.”

“stay, y/n? don’t go.” tuk whispered when she clung to you, her request a tether you couldn't bring yourself to break.

you felt claustrophobic. suffocated. like the universe itself was collapsing inside your chest.

"dinner?” neteyam offered a compromise, his voice tentative. ever the dutiful son.

when you looked at neteyam, all you could picture was that little kid who looked up to you as if you hung the stars in the sky. you remembered—you were still the oldest.

you glanced around the room at your siblings’ quiet dejection. in the moment, you didn't want them to go but you didn't want to stay either—in any case, you didn’t want to leave on this note.

“dinner.” you agreed, your response barely audible, snatching your effects from where they lay on the ground and storming out.

jake, stretched between guilt and uncertainty, began to start off in your direction. neytiri pulled him back, her grip tight on her husband's wrist.

“give her time.” she said simply, the three words heavy with unspoken sentiments. she barely met her husband’s eyes before stalking off.

the silence persisted long after you left.

. . .

thanks for reading <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky

© jsooly ‘25

[smystermy]

only fools do what i do

summary: Buried in stress and endless studying, you can’t afford distractions—especially not Sylus. But when he coaxes you into a bike ride under the soft glow of sunset, you start to wonder if the world outside your textbooks is exactly what you’ve been missing—and if he belongs there, too.

tags: sylus x you; unestablished relationship; hints of (one-sided) enemies-to-lovers; fluff & angst; hints of (mutual) pining.

warnings: sylus calls you 'dove' once.

word count: 3193.

a/n: this is my first time writing sylus, so please be kind to me, babes!! the fic title is from 'FOOLS' by troye sivan. the images in the header are from pinterest. the dividers are by @saradika-graphics. hope you enjoy reading this!!

You flip another page of your notes, eyes skimming over the same lines that refuse to stick in your brain.

Your head feels heavy, the weight of hours pressing against your temples. It’s almost like the words are mocking you, scattered across the page in neat little rows, and yet they make no sense. Not anymore. Your mind wanders again, again, and you try to drag it back to the present.

You rub a hand through your hair, feeling the damp strands stick to your forehead. The room is too quiet, too still, and the harsh yellow light of the desk lamp feels suffocating, the shadows in the corners growing longer and deeper with every passing minute. You glance at the clock. Three hours, and I’ve barely made a dent. You should stand up, stretch, maybe grab a drink of water. But the thought of moving, of stepping away from this... it feels like failure.

Then, a buzz—it's your phone, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. The sudden sound feels jarring in the stillness, like a splash of cold water. You glance at the screen. Sylus.

You hesitate.

You’re already feeling drained, and the last thing you need right now is someone distracting you. But it's him, and it’s never that simple. It never is with him.

He has this way of worming his way into your life, always so warm, so persistent, even when you don’t want him to be. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to ignore his messages, or his calls, not really.

With a sigh, you swipe to answer.

“Hey,” Sylus’s voice greets you, smooth and casual, like he’s already comfortable in this moment. “Busy studying, huh? I can practically hear the stress radiating off you.”

You press your lips together. Is it really that obvious? You’re trying so hard to keep it together, but maybe you’re not doing such a great job.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice light, but it comes out a little strained, tighter than you intended. You tap your pen against the desk, more out of habit than anything. Your gaze flickers back to the notes, but they feel like they’re closing in on you. The numbers on the page seem to blur together, a frustrating mess of meaningless symbols.

“You don’t sound okay,” Sylus observes, his tone thoughtful, but with a teasing edge that’s familiar by now. “I think I can hear your brain frying from here.”

You exhale slowly, lips twitching into the smallest of smiles at the absurdity of his words. “It’s fine,” you say, a little more firmly this time, but still not entirely convincing. “I’m just trying to get through it.”

His voice softens slightly, like he’s weighing his next words. “You’ve been at it for hours. You’re gonna burn out if you keep going at this pace. Maybe you should take a break. Get out for a bit. Clear your head.”

You stiffen, but only for a moment.

A break? The thought is tempting, but immediately, you shove it down, unwilling to let yourself be that weak. The test is tomorrow, after all. You can’t afford to take time off.

“I don’t need a break,” you say, this time more to yourself than to him. “I need to focus.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, like he’s considering your words carefully. “You sure? I can almost feel the stress through the phone.” His voice takes on that familiar teasing tone again, light and easy. “I’m heading out for a bike ride. You should come with me. It’ll be good for you. Fresh air. A little movement. Just one hour. Trust me.”

Your fingers freeze, mid-tap. A bike ride? Now?

The idea feels almost absurd—like the last thing you should be doing. You glance out the window. The sky is just starting to turn soft shades of pink and purple, and there’s a slight breeze rustling the trees. You let out a small breath, torn. It’s tempting. So tempting. But then the guilt creeps in—the fear of falling behind, of losing focus at the one time you can’t afford to.

“I don’t know,” you start, your voice trailing off as you think it through. “I really need to study. I—”

“Hey, it’ll only be an hour,” Sylus interrupts, his voice so easygoing, so confident, that it almost feels like he’s already made the decision for you. “And you’ll come back feeling better. Clearer. A little air will do wonders. You’ve been inside for so long.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you find yourself chewing the inside of your cheek. You glance at the stack of notes again, the textbooks, the study guides… and then, almost against your better judgment, you let your gaze drift back to the window. The night looks so much bigger out there. Maybe that’s what you need. Something bigger than this tiny room.

You lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples. You’re so tired, but the thought of pushing through for even just a little while longer feels... overwhelming. And yet, Sylus’s voice is still there, warm and coaxing, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sure you’ll get right back to it when we’re done,” he adds, as though reading your mind. “Just one hour. Fresh air. That’s all I’m asking.”

You draw in a long, slow breath. It doesn’t sound like the worst idea, even if you know it’s not the best idea.

Maybe you’re just tired.

Maybe you’re giving in because it’s easier than forcing yourself to keep studying.

“Fine,” you say, the word coming out a little softer than you expected. You let out a short, almost reluctant sigh, but you can’t hide the hint of a smile in your voice. “But don’t think I’m doing this because you’re right.”

Sylus’s laugh comes through the phone, rich and warm, the kind of sound that has a way of lightening the air. “Oh, I know,” he says, his voice still teasing, but there’s a trace of something else in it. “But you’ll thank me later.”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go, before I change my mind.”

The evening air is a delicate balance between warmth and coolness, the kind of temperature that wraps around you like a soft embrace.

You pull your light jacket tighter, its fabric a little too thin against the shifting breeze, but it doesn’t matter. Outside, everything feels different. The room—stuffed with textbooks and notes—is a distant memory now, swallowed by the space and calm of the world outside. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of city life fill the air, while the sun sinks lower, painting the sky with a watercolor blend of orange, pink, and violet.

You take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs, and you pause for a moment, just taking in the transition from confinement to freedom. The heavy weight of the day, the pressure, the fatigue—it's all there, lurking behind your thoughts—but for the first time in what feels like hours, you breathe.

And then, you see him.

Sylus.

He’s coming down the street, his bike gliding effortlessly toward you, and for a moment, it feels like everything else has gone silent.

His bike is sleek—sleek in a way that feels almost too perfect, like something out of an expensive catalog. Its black frame catches the last golden glints of sunlight, shining with an almost dangerous polish. The wheels spin, their motion silent but swift, and your eyes follow the smooth, curving lines of the machine. Everything about it seems impossibly well-made, so smooth, so expensive—much more than anything you’d ever be able to afford, much more than the balance in your bank account could ever justify.

Your pulse stutters for a second, and then, the realization hits you like a sharp jolt: I’m going on a bike date with Sylus.

You freeze.

The thought is fleeting, a brief moment of panic—you mentally slap it down, pushing it away as quickly as it came. No. No. It’s not a date. It’s just a bike ride. He’s just... You shake your head. No need to think too much about it. You can’t. But the fluttering in your chest just won’t go away.

Sylus stops in front of you, dismounting effortlessly, his posture so naturally graceful it feels like he’s done this a thousand times before. He’s wearing a jacket that’s just a little too casual to match the bike—a faded navy hoodie, worn jeans—but the entire look fits him, fits the effortless way he moves, and there’s a quiet confidence in his smile as he stands there, looking at you.

His gaze is warm, teasing, and yet there’s something... softer about it, like he’s genuinely glad to see you outside of your study cave.

“You ready for this?” His voice is light, easy—teasing, yet underlined with a subtle fondness, like he knows exactly what you're thinking, exactly how to push you. “Hope you’re not having second thoughts already.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, but it’s not convincing. You wish you could sound more confident. The words taste dry in your mouth.

His grin widens, amused, but there's an underlying sincerity that makes you question your own resistance.

He offers you a helmet, and you take it without thinking. The cold plastic feels unfamiliar in your hands for a moment—foreign and distant compared to the textbooks you've been gripping for hours. When you try to put it on, your fingers fumble, suddenly unsure of how to manage this new, simple task. The straps slip and twist in your hands, and the helmet is just... wrong.

Sylus watches you for a second, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t tease you outright. Instead, he steps forward, his movements effortless. "Let me help." His voice is warm, and though you want to brush it off, something about the simple kindness of the gesture settles something deep inside you.

He reaches forward, gently adjusting the straps, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to make you freeze. For a brief moment, you feel your heart beat a little faster. His fingers move with easy confidence, and you try to focus on the task at hand, even as the brush of his touch lingers in your mind.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his tone unexpectedly tender. "All set."

You swallow, fighting the sudden rush of heat to your face, and try to mask the awkwardness with a cough. "Thanks," you mumble, voice sounding thinner than you’d like. You’re not sure why this moment feels so strange—it’s just a helmet, right? But the way he’s standing so close, the way he took over for you without hesitation—it feels more intimate than you expected.

You back away to the bike, trying to regain your composure.

Your hands brush against the cold metal of the frame as you move toward the back of the bike, as if physically distancing yourself will somehow calm your nerves. You’re fine. You can do this. It’s just a bike ride, after all.

But then, Sylus is right there again, his voice teasing, warm, coaxing. “You don’t wanna fall off, do you? I suggest you hold on to me.”

Your breath catches—caught off guard by the easy invitation in his tone. Hold on to him? Your mind races, your body stiffens instinctively at the suggestion. The idea of touching him, even just for balance, feels... strange. Almost wrong. But then, you think about the speed, the wind, the risk of toppling over in front of him, and that thought alone makes your hands feel clammy. The hesitation hangs in the air between you.

“Uh…” You glance from his back to the bike, not really sure what to do. You take a small step forward and slide onto the seat, fingers curling around the edge of his jacket as you brace yourself, the fabric soft but sturdy beneath your grip. He doesn’t move at first, just watches you, eyes twinkling, lips curled in that playful smirk.

You breathe out slowly, then tighten your fingers, the warmth of his back pressing through the thin fabric of his hoodie. It’s surprisingly solid, warm—a stark contrast to the coolness of the evening air. You hold on, but it’s a tentative grip, a light touch, as though you’re afraid that any more contact might be too much.

And then, without warning, Sylus shifts beneath you, his body steady and sure as he kicks the bike into motion.

The world tilts sharply, and the rush of the bike surges forward, faster than you anticipated. The air whips past you, sharp and immediate, pulling the breath from your lungs. You can hear the hum of the tires against the pavement, the sound cutting through the sudden quiet, the sharp, metallic whir that seems to echo in your ears.

For a split second, it feels like you’re floating. Weightless. The ground beneath you is nothing more than a distant thought, and your stomach lurches, caught somewhere between the sudden thrill and the brief panic. The wind is everywhere—blowing against your face, tugging at your hair, filling your ears with its howl. The city smells different now, sharper, more real—the damp scent of rain still hanging in the air, blending with the tang of exhaust and street grime. Everything is heightened, the usual background noise of the world drowned out by the rush of motion.

Instinct kicks in, and you shift your grip, fingers slipping down to his waist, where you lock them tight, holding onto him with a desperation you hadn’t meant to feel. But even as you cling to him, the bike keeps pushing forward, faster, the world around you blurring, shifting with each turn, each speed bump. And it’s so fast, so sudden, the sense of control slipping out of your grasp.

You tense, the unfamiliarity of it making your body stiffen. But then, you feel him—his body shifting beneath you, a subtle movement, and you realize he’s aware of you, of the way you’re gripping him tighter now.

"Relax," Sylus says, his voice low, like it’s meant to be a comfort. You’re not sure it helps at first, but something in the way he says it makes you pause. "Just breathe with the ride."

The ride doesn’t slow, but suddenly, you’re not fighting it anymore. The motion becomes almost hypnotic—rhythmic, fluid—and you start to notice things. Really notice them. The world you’ve always known suddenly feels unfamiliar, like you’ve stepped into a painting where every brushstroke is sharp, vivid, alive. The golden hue of the sunset washes over everything, the roads you’ve walked a thousand times now glowing with a warmth you never realized was there. The buildings, the trees—they’re all familiar, but they seem new, like you’re seeing them with fresh eyes.

A soft gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. Everything looks... different. Beautiful. You don’t even know why it’s so stunning, but the world in this moment is so full of color, of life—it’s like you’ve been missing it all along.

Sylus’s voice breaks through your reverie, warm and teasing, but there’s something softer in it now, as if he can sense how taken you are. "You liking this?" he asks, the hint of a smile in his tone.

For a moment, you don’t even answer. You’re too busy trying to drink it all in—this surreal, glowing evening, the way the streets seem to open up in front of you, the way the city feels alive beneath the cool wind. It’s like you’re flying, and yet, you’re still grounded, connected to something deeper.

When you finally do speak, it comes out almost breathlessly. "It’s... amazing." The words barely do it justice, but they’re all you can find.

"Yeah?" His voice comes from ahead, almost teasing again, but there’s a certain fondness behind it now, a gentleness that makes the edges of his teasing feel more like encouragement.

"Yeah," you confirm, letting the wonder settle in your chest like something warm, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in a while.

He’s quiet for a moment, then asks, "Your head feeling clearer now?" His question is soft, like he’s been waiting for the answer, like he knows it’s more than just about the ride.

You blink, startled for a second. You hadn't realized it, but now that the thought has been planted, you feel it too—your mind, which had been whirring with all the things you should be doing, all the stress you’d carried with you, is quieter now. The noise in your head has faded into the background, replaced by the soft rush of wind and the feeling of freedom spreading through your limbs.

"Yeah," you reply, a small laugh escaping you. "Much clearer."

He asks again, his voice a little quieter now, a little more sincere. "And your shoulders? Still feel heavy?"

You hadn’t thought about it until now, but you stretch your neck and roll your shoulders, surprised at how light you feel. The tightness is gone, as though it’s been whisked away by the motion of the bike, the breeze.

"No," you say, feeling a small, almost imperceptible weight lift off your chest, leaving you unburdened for the first time in hours. "Not at all."

A beat of silence passes, and then he asks, his tone just the slightest bit playful now, "You feeling better for coming on this ride?"

You smile to yourself, knowing exactly where this is going. There’s a pause, and you let the words hang between you for a moment. It feels strange, almost like you’re being coaxed into admitting something you didn’t expect to admit. But you do it anyway. "Yeah. I am."

And then, as if on cue, you can already hear the satisfaction in his voice as he prepares to say something smug—he’s waiting for this—but before he can, you cut him off with a sharp laugh, already anticipating the next words out of his mouth.

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” You lean forward just a little, your voice teasing.

He chuckles, low and amused, and you feel the vibrations of it against your chest. You feel him shift beneath you, like he’s holding back a grin. “Alright, dove,” he says, the endearment slipping out so easily, so casually, that you almost miss it.

But not quite—

Dove.

The word hits you like a small wave of warmth, and for a split second, your chest tightens, the flutter in your stomach reappearing, unbidden. But you squash it down, choosing to focus on the world around you instead—the sunset spilling across the horizon, the buildings, the trees, the soft wind. It’s easier that way—yeah, this is so much easier.

But if you find yourself edging a little closer to him, just a little—you tell yourself it’s only because the wind’s picking up, and you’re just trying to stay warm as the temperature drops. Not because you want to be any closer to him than necessary.

No, no, definitely not.

general masterlist || sylus masterlist

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Gone But Here All The Same｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Being a military wife could be quite lonesome especially being a military wife to a ghost but he knows exactly what you need to make you feel less alone

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (m&f), some reference to death and PTSD but not really, dom!Simon, sex toys, bit of voice kink, size kink

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew what you were getting into when you married Simon. He was a member of the special forces who technically didn’t exist- you were used to the long months when he was shipped off, the anxiety that John Price would show up on your doorstep with a frown and a letter from the military, the anger and the fear that your husband carried on his chest every moment of the day.

You knew all of this and yet you still married him because he was the best thing to ever happen to you and besides that, he was the best lay you ever had.

Simon had ruined you for any other man (and toy) the moment that his thick fingers slipped between your soft thighs and into your panties under the bar table on your third date. He drove you insane with the smallest of touches, playing with your body with a finesse that only a seasoned soldier could.

You constantly ached for him, feeling so hollow without his thick cock stretching you to your absolute limit. Sure the reunion sex was absolutely mind-blowing every time he came home but with Simon leaving for sometimes months at a time, your need for any sort of pleasure drove you insane.

But luckily, he was going to call you today.

Simon called when he could, usually it was from a private number or some foreign phone, a different number every time. He had created a system with you, he would always call on the 13th of every month and if he missed it, he would call you on the 23rd. 

You sat on your shared bed, staring intently at your phone. The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as the sun cast a warm orange glow over the large bedroom. You sighed when the clock hit 8, you doubted that he would call today.

A groan slipped from your lips as you rocked forward to slip from the bed, but just then the phone screen lit up, displaying a cute photo of you and Simon on your honeymoon as a random number rolled across the top. You snatched it up and quickly answered.

“Simon.” You breathed, relief flooding your body. His chuckle crackled through your phone’s speaker.

“Hello to you too bunny.” Your smile grew even wider if that was at all possible. He only ever called you bunny when he was in a good mood. You flopped back against the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard, keeping your phone as close as you could in lieu of your husband’s massive body.

“Are you coming home soon?” You tugged the collar of the shirt you were wearing up to your nose, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.

He was silent for a moment. “No, not yet love.” ‘Love’, that’s what he called you when he was trying to let you down easy. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he quickly spoke again. “I do have a present for you bunny.” He purred, his voice dropping down an octave to that deep baritone that haunted your wet dreams.

“But nothing was delivered to the house?” 

“Oh bunny.” He said mockingly. “Your present is already in the house. How ‘bout you check my nightstand.” You practically dove over to his side of the bed in your excitement, Simon’s broken laughter following after you.

The drawer slid open and you gasped. Sitting on top of one of his many spare balaclavas and a book he was in the middle of reading was an enormous dildo. There was a suction cup on the bottom where the balls should have been and with a little bow sitting on the head, it made you laugh a little under your breath. “Got it?” 

Simon’s voice broke you out of your trance. You snatched up the toy and gasped at the weight of it. “Simon what is this?” You settled back into your original spot, your fingers flexing around the purple silicon almost unconsciously.

“I would think you know what it is considering how often you beg for it.” He said right as your middle finger brushed against an incredibly life-like vein towards the base of the fake cock, a vein you knew very well.

“Is this- is this your cock?” Molten heat pooled between your thighs as you held the toy even tighter, now realising that you were indeed holding a replica of your husband’s generous gift. Already you were using your free hand to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

“Damn right it is. You think I would let another cock near you?” He snarled, sending another wave of arousal right to your core. You moaned softly into the air as your fingers brushed against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the sedative bundle of nerves. “Oh you like that don’t you.”

“Si.” His groan echoed through the room and you could faintly hear the sound of a zipper.

“Go on bunny, get that cunt nice and stretched for my cock.” You were dripping onto the comforter beneath you, desperately eager to follow each and every one of his orders. Excitement began to curl in your stomach as two of your fingers easily slipped into your cunt. It wasn’t nearly enough for you, your fingers weren’t as thick or as long as your husband’s but they were warming you up well enough.

“Can I put it in now?” You pleaded into your phone, needing your husband’s cock nestled inside you once more, even if it was only a replica. He let out a sniffled groan and you could just picture the way he was biting his lip to keep his voice down, his blue eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the base of his dick to stave off his end. He always got noisy when he was about to cum.

“I don’t think your little cunt can handle it.” He managed to get out through clenched teeth. You nodded frantically. “Words bunny.” He snarled, briefly jolting you from your haze.

“Yes Si, can handle you. Always do.” Your other hand practically flew between your thighs, the toy gripped so tightly you could feel the silicon give under the tension. The cold tip bumped against your hot skin as you notched it at your entrance. 

Your cunt burned as it finally breached you, dousing the ache in your belly. You whined with pain and Simon moaned. It was no secret that he loved the size difference between you both, he revealed in the way you cried when he fucked you, his massive cock stirring up your guts in the most deliciously painful way.

You could barely breathe as you reached the halfway mark. “So big.” Your back arched and you forced another inch inside you. A wet slapping came through your phone’s speakers along with Simon’s muffled breaths.

An image of him flashed behind your eyes- fully dressed in dark clothes but with his fly open and his thick cargo pants shuffled down his hips just enough for his cock to be free. The ridged lines of his skull mask would hide the way his lips twitched as he got lost in the feel of his gloved fist around his aching length. 

You cried out as you finally reached the hilt of the dildo, finally you were full of him once more. “Simon, you feel so good.” You pulled the toy out only a few centimetres before pushing it back in and sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck bunny, keep talking.” He ground out as the wet sounds on his end picked up the pace.

“I can feel you in my belly, so big. Stretching me out.” Your hand began to move faster. It wasn’t the same as when your husband fucked you, you couldn’t feel his weight keeping you picked to the mattress or the way his cock would throb and twitch within you but the sound of his voice right next to your ear was all the same. 

His groan resonated through your chest, lighting your nerves up with that familiar fire. “Take that fucking cock, bunny, be a good girl and fuck yourself on it. Let me hear you cum for me.” 

You thrashed on top of the bed, hips rolling down to meet your hand with each thrust. “Simon!” You clumsily strummed your clit with your other hand so wishing for the rough fingertips of your husband instead. “‘M close.” You mewled.

“Cum.” The connection crackled with the depth of his voice but the effect was still the same. Your body seized suddenly as your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Pleasure rippled through you like a tidal wave, both easing and fuelling your lust. 

As soon as your breath returned to your lungs, you chanted his name over and over again as you rode out your high. “That’s it, good bunny.” Simon cooed, his breath hitching as he thrust into his fist with an added fervour. You were delirious with ecstasy, the toy inside of you now only keeping you full while your orgasm began to fade.

“Simon. Need your cum.” You begged softly into the phone. “Please Simon. Need it so bad.” He gasped and then moaned deep in his chest. 

“Shit.” He said breathlessly after a moment. “Shoulda brought a towel with me.” He grumbled and you laughed.

As gently as you could, you eased the dildo from your cunt. You winced at the stretch, now feeling sore and satisfied for the first time in two months. “How much longer do you have left on the call?” There was a grunt and then the sound of a zipper.

“Not long.” You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. Simon always got quiet after sex, his pillow talk was practically non-existent.

“I love you.” There was a beat and then.

“Go take a shower and have a snack. Don’t forget water.” He never said it back but you felt it all the same. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was muffled shouting in the background and he sighed. “Stay safe out there. Don’t worry about me.” Your fingers curled around your phone and tucked it closer to your body.

“Always do bunny.” He replied simply. “Always do.” 

You held onto the device long after he finally hung up. It was hard being Simon’s wife but it was also the easiest thing in the world because you knew that he would always be right there, even when he was thousands of miles away.

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[snowsinterlude]

La Femme Damnée.

(coriolanus snow x fem. reader x sejanus plinth)

summary: to celebrate your birthday, your two best friends decided to give you the best gift you could ask for.

c.w: double penetration, drunk sex, pussy/dick adoration, friends with benefits, threesome, threeway, coriolanus x reader x sejanus, oral (f. and m. recieving), anal, dumbification, squirting, breeding, explicit content, degrading, dirty talk, tummy bulge, heavy smut, overstimulation, +18. mdni.

"here she is," snow announced, hand finding your waist and casting a kiss on your temple. "the prettiest birthday girl in the world."

you chuckled, pulling away from his grip to greet them in a theatrical manner, earning soft chuckles from both of your bestfriends.

"happy birthday, bunny." sejanus said, hugging you tightly and kissing the corner of your mouth. you smiled softly at him, returning the kiss.

"thank you, sej." you said, smiling softly as your hands caressed his cheeks.

"hey, i'm gonna be a third wheel here or what?" coryo teased, faking disappointment, which you laughed at, approaching him and giving him a kiss on the lips.

"of course not, coryo." you said, smiling.

it was always like that. you three seemed attached to one another. your first times happened with them. kisses, virginity loss, everything turned out to happen in group.

thinking about that, you tried to recall when sejanus got his face buried in between your legs, licking and sucking and fingering you all at once while you moaned and sucked coriolanus cock.

fuck, it felt so good.

your moans on coriolanus's dick made his cock vibrate while he fucked your throat, his tip teasing the back of your throat as you gagged and coughed on him, your pretty, teary eyes looking up into his, searching for his approval as he laughed at the sight of your pleading stare.

"you're such a pretty girl, dove. taking my dick so well into that perfect throat of yours," he said, voice huskier than usual as you felt your heart flutter as you licked his entire shaft, drooling all over him and making a sloppy mess. "that's what you wanna hear, isn't it darling?"

you mewled against him, sucking his tip.

"what if i call you for what you are, hm? what if i call you-" a grunt, as he fucked your throat in a slow pace "a dirty whore? would you like it?" he asked, and your only answer was to free your mouth from his dick, letting out a shameless moan as you held sejanus by his hair, grinding on his face.

just then, snow looked over to see what sejanus was doing, a bit disappointed for not having the attention of your mouth anymore.

between your legs, sejanus was making a mess. his thumb rubbing your clit roughly while your core recieved his fingers attention.

"man, stop it. you want her to cum already?" snow voice took over your hearing senses, and you moaned a bunch of messy words that none of them understood rightfully.

"i want her to, actually." sejanus said, looking at you both, and god he looked beautiful. his mouth and chin were all wet from your juices, you could see the wet shining line of saliva and your pussy wetness connecting his lips to your pussy. you moved your hips, wanting his tongue back, and he chuckled alongside with coryo. "what's that, princess? you have something to say?"

"p-please, keep going. i-i need that- i need your tongue, please. please!" you begged, small tears rolling down your cheeks as he pinched your clit. "g-god, please keep going."

"fuck, look at her. we didn't even fucked her and she's all dumb already." coriolanus said, chuckling at your despair. his cock looked so pretty, too. you couldn't help but suck his tip again, surprising him with that action as he grunted. "doll, what?"

"'m sorry, your cock looks so good, i just- ah!" you moaned, being interrupted as sejanus tongue thrusted inside your warm core. your senses seemed to be sucked out from you.

it didn't took much for you to squirt right on his mouth, and coryo laughed, kissing you on your soft lips as your legs shaked from the pleasure, causing you to get distracted and not notice plinth's cock teasing your pussy, you were so sensitive you thought it was just your imagination.

but then your leg as over sejanus waist as he prepared his dick to enter you, your heart dropping as you noticed the position you were in.

sandwiched between plinth and snow, you could feel coryo's hand spreading your plump ass while his tip teased your hole.

"you ready?" plinth asked, more to snow than to you.

"always." he answered, kissing your neck.

"w-wait, wait- ah, fuck!" you cried, feeling your insides warming up as the two boys penetrated you, both at the same time.

"fuck, she's so tight." plinth said, frowning in pleasure as his hand replaced coryo's, grabbing your ass and letting you hide your face on the curvature of his neck.

"isn't she? she's always so tight and wet for us. such a perfect doll." coryo said, pounding his dick into you while he bite his lips, groaning on your earlobe and nibbling on it.

"god, darling. your always so eager to us." plinth said, moaning as he pounded into you slowly, his pace matching with snow's pace as them both messily touched your body. coryo grabbed your tits and fondled it with gentleness, while sej sucked on your neck and left bite marks on your neck. both watching as you moved your hips, trying to get more of them.

"mmm, you're so hungry for both of us. tell us, princess, what do you want?" coryo asked, teasing you and going even slower on you.

"f...faster, please. please, just a little bit." you begged, swelling eyes taking place while you whined and cried over them. "need to. i-if you keep going i-i'll cum-"

"and what's the problem with that, bunny?" coryo asked, kissing you. his tongue seemed to explore your entire mouth, your eyes shutting close as he thrusted himself entirely inside your tight hole.

"hey, leave a bit to me." sejanus said, going along and thrusting his entire shaft inside you. ah, fuck. he felt too good on your cunt. good enough to make you part your lips from coryo's to let your moans echo on the room.

then he shut you up by kissing you, his hand grabbing your cheeks roughly as he slammed your lips on his, a kiss not so soft as coryo, much for your surprise.

and coryo's mouth found your tits, your nipple hard and soft as he engulfed it on his mouth.

you panicked when both started to thrust faster into you, both hitting spots that were never hit before. your eyes widened up, both your holes tightening them as they fucked you.

"s-stop!! stop it, please! i-i'm close to- fuck, i'll cum! p-please!!" but did they listened to you? of course not. they kept on going.

and even when you cummed three times more, they only stopped when they came, filling you entirely with their cum.

your body gave up, pussy throbbing as you felt on the bed entirely, breathless as the two guys pulled out of you.

"happy birthday, bunny." coryo said, kissing the back of your neck.

"happy birthday, princess." sejanus voiced, letting your overstimulated body rest on his arm.

[madhatterbri]

Secret Santa | A.S.

Summary: 17.) Secret Santa ~ Alex Shelley x plus size reader, plz use pet names rather than y/n.

Requested by: @tahiri-veyla

Author's Note: I changed my mind and posted tonight. He is kind of hot. 💀 Taken from my prompts list found here. No use of Y/N.

Alex Shelley Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts @cowboywritersworld

"Wow! You got your girlfriend for Secret Santa? That's gotta be the easiest thing ever,"

Alex looked at his friend and smiled briefly. He let out a chuckle as he looked at his girlfriend's name written on the slip of paper. Of course it was going to be easy. They had been together forever. What could possibly go wrong?

He put the slip in his jean pocket and drove to a local store. Alex figured he'd walk in the store, buy something for the love of his life, and walk out in fifteen minutes. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment his mind went blank as he looked at all the items. There are so many things to buy but he doesn't know what exactly he should buy.

The Secret Santa was going to be a party amongst their friends. The gifts had to be out of the park. His little miss had to get the very best things. He was sure he would get something lame for whoever picked him. It didn't matter if it would be another Starbucks gift card that he received that would rot in a kitchen drawer. The sparkle in her eyes that night would make his night.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through Google. He was trying to find a perfect gift for her. Google had an answer for everything, right?

Slippers? What are we? 80?

Gift cards? Hey babe, we've only been dating for years. Here's something because I don't listen to your likes. Don't worry. I'll see myself to the couch.

Okay, so Google wasn't the right thing to use for today. Alex closed the window and texted his best friend. Maybe he could give some sort of insight into his dilemma. It went as well as expected. The message poked fun at his current situation.

Dude, you have one hour until the party. Are you serious? Oh man, you are so ducked.

Alex shoved his phone in his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One hour. Only one hour to get everything ready. The wrestler looked through the aisle again and stopped.

A rubber duck with a wrestling face mask stared back at him. He questioned how he hadn't seen this before. The toy would be a great addition to her collection. Besides, wrestling held major importance to them. They met at a wrestling show.

"You are coming home with me," he spoke to the duck much to the bewilderment of the customers around him. His hands fiddled with the duck as he paced around the store.

Alex thought about his girlfriend. His perfect little dove from head to toe. She had a smile that could light up the whole room. A body with curves in all the right places. Her beautiful face and eyes lit up as she had her nose stuck in another book. A blanket wrapped around her feet since they were always cold.

Wait, that's it!

The forgetful boyfriend rushed to the book aisle. She was just complaining about almost being done with a book. Her world was made when she found out there was a sequel. Scanning through the aisle, he found the next book in the series. It was the very last copy.

His next stop was the socks section. A cute pair of fuzzy socks in her favorite color lay at the top of the bin. When he saw they were her size, he breathed a sigh of relief. With no time to lose, Alex made his way to the checkout line with a gift bag in hand.

Alex's friend ribbed him the moment he arrived at the party.

Dead man walking.

Coal would be a blessing compared to what you are going to get.

He chuckled at the lighthearted teasing. "Oh no, my baby is going to love this,"

They stepped inside the home. The host of the party didn't waste much time in allowing people to open their gifts. He wanted to have the presents opened before the adult beverage consumption.

One by one, the gifts were spread out amongst the crowd. As expected, Alex was gifted a Starbucks gift card. He thanked them all the same.

"You are my secret Santa? Isn't that cheating?" His girlfriend asked.

Alex shrugged. "Open it up, darling,"

He watched as her fingers removed each tissue paper carefully. She placed them neatly on the couch next to her.

"A wrestling duck?" She asked with a laugh. "He's adorable,"

Her laughter made him smile. "Keep looking,"

Upon further inspection, she removed the book from the gift bag. Her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree. "I could never find one in any of the stores. Thank you,"

"You have one more thing in there," Alex told her.

She pulled out the pair of fuzzy socks out and laughed. He couldn't help but laugh as well.

"No more putting your cold feet against me at night," he teased. His girlfriend threw her head back and laughed.

"I guess I'll have to put something else against you tonight," she whispered between them. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. Alex smiled in the kiss. Maybe getting a Starbucks card didn't suck so much after all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 43

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Not this guy again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hole up in the room you’re allotted. You don’t quite know what to do with yourself. You don’t have much. Just your journal, the tablet, and the few garments you packed. 

You pace, sit, stare out the window, pace again. You make yourself dizzy as you walk in circles. You fall onto the bed and huff. You still haven’t cracked. For some reason, that tingle in the corners of your eyes evaporated once alone. The agonized tugging in your chest remains but you can’t summon a single tear. It’s as if your body’s numbing itself to the pain.

You watch the time in the margin of the small screen. Closer and closer. Just after noon there’s a knock on the door. You go to it but don’t open as she speaks through the barrier. Ann. His wife. She asks if you’re hungry. You’re not. Just tired but painfully awake.

She tells you to come downstairs if you change your mind. You won’t. You can’t bring yourself to face her. Or to put it more truthfully, to face the truth. 

You plug in the tablet as the battery dwindles. A few more hours. Closer and closer. It’s the only thing that keeps you going. For a moment, you doubt yourself. Is it wrong?

Evening darkens the windows. You nestle into the chair in the corner as you rest the tablet on your bent legs. You try to busy yourself with a matching game but you can’t focus. You sit in the shadows and wait and wait and wait.

It’s just you and the screen. That tenuous limbo stretching on and on. Then it pops up. That notification. The camera app interrupts your matches with an alert; ‘motion detected’.

You tap it without a thought. Your stomach twists and your throat squeezes tight. You bite down on your knuckle as the app loads. Your teeth pinch but you don’t care. This is it.

The front door closes as Andy steps onto the mat. He tilts his head as he listens, unaware of the camera across from him, just as you had been. He narrows his eyes but shrugs. He sets his bag down, just like he always does, and unbuttons his coat with a sigh.

He hangs it and looks over his shoulder again. He scratches his chin before he lifts a foot, taking off one boot than the other. He yawns and stretches his arms, rolling his shoulders. A low growl rumbles from his throat.

“Dove,” he calls out, “I hope you’re not working too hard…”

He disappears into the front room. That’s the thing, the camera is stagnant. You can’t see it all but you can hear it. You turn up the volume as you hunch down, ears pricked as you hear his distant voice.

“Honey?” There’s the clink of porcelain then frantic steps. He comes back to the edge of the frame, “Dove!”

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, close to the lens. You see the tension in his cheek, the tick in his jaw. That expression that used to make you wilt. He stomps upstairs, once more out of sight. You hold your breath as the corners of your lips curve.

“Fuck,” his voice precedes him as he barrels back down, his shoulder brushing the camera. “Dove–” 

He chokes on his holler as he backs up and faces the small white box. The ‘speaker’. His omniscient companion. He scowls and grabs it, dislodging it from the wall. He brings it close, looking down the lens.

“What?” He whispers in confusion.

You want to laugh. You want him to hear you laughing. But that fear he feels is nothing compared to the terror he instilled in you. Not just of him, but yourself. He made you afraid of your own skin, your own mind, your very being. In that moment, he can’t know even an ounce of the torture he put your through.

“How does it feel?” You whisper. “How does it feel?!” Your voice comes louder, “asshole!”

Your feet slip off the cushion and the tablet falls flat. You clap your hand over your mouth, hoping you weren’t careless enough to be heard past the walls. Your heart races as your breath burns in your throat.

“Dove!” Andy snarls at the camera, “come back. Right now. I forgive you, you can still come ba–”

You black the screen and his pleas mute. Just like he did to you. He never heard ‘no’. He never heard ‘enough’. You grip the edges of the lifeless tablet and shudder weakly.

“Sweetheart,” Dr. Kemp’s voice jolts you from your trance. You look up at him, horrified. How long had he been there? “Dinner’s ready. Come meet the kids.” He keeps his hand on the door as his silhouette is limned from behind. “They’re gonna love you.”

🕊️

“Harper, Avery,” Ann’s voice is firm, almost scary as she interrupts the children’s argument over something called Bluey, “we have a guest, please.”

You sit quietly at the other side of the table, on an island all your own. Steve sits at one end of the table, Ann the other, and the two children sit shoulder to shoulder on the other side. You look at your plate and push around the peas, mixing them into the mashed potatoes.

“Everything alright?” Ann asks. As you look up, you find her watching your fork.

“Yes,” you murmur with a tiny nod, sinking your chin back down as you try to fade out of existence. 

Steve clears his throat. You wince and scoops up a mix of peas and potato. You force it into your mouth. You don’t want to be rude. Besides, chewing is a good excuse not to answer any more questions.

“What is she doing here?” The boy, Harper flings flecks of potato around his plate as he smashes his fork into the soft heap.

“That’s not a very nice question,” Steve girds. “She’s a friend, she doesn’t need a reason to be here.”

“Jasmine, Jasmine!” Avery chimes as she tilts her head back and forth.

“Avery,” Ann snips, “don’t you say that name.”

The little girl snaps her mouth shut and blinks in fright. You peek over at Ann as she forces a smile and shakes her head, the pretty flip of her blond hair brushing against her shoulders. She meets your eyes with a pretty laugh.

“We don’t like to talk about the past.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Avery babbles.

“It’s okay, honey, but you know Jasmine wasn’t nice,” Ann trills, her eyes clinging to you. “She was a nanny,” she lowers her voice, “and she really liked my style, mm. You know, sticky fingers.”

You nod as you glean her meaning. A thief. You squirm and take another bite. You hope she doesn’t suspect you of anything like that. You would never touch anything of hers. Ever.

Your eyes flit over to Steve. You find him watching you. His cheeks dimple with content.

“Like she says, leave the past in the past,” he sighs, “the kids are in school now and we found a private day care for date nights. It all worked out in the end. It always does.”

You try to smile and swallow tightly. You reach for the glass of water and gulp. The potatoes are garlicky and the peas shriveled and dry.

“It will, honey,” Ann adds on. “Now you’re here and you can start working on you.”

“What?” Harper crinkles his nose.

“Nothing to worry about,” Steve dismisses, “so, kids, tell me about school. How much trouble did you get in?”

You can’t help but wallow in dejection. You never had that. A father that cared about your day. You doubt you’ll ever have a husband to kiss your cheek. The only man who ever loved you, hurt you in ways no one else ever did. He never cared about you, just what he could get from you.

The food turns bitter on your tongue. You eat without tasting, stare without seeing, and suddenly, you’re alone. It’s only the clink of a plate that brings you back. You look up as Ann takes your empty plate.

“Hungry?” She preens.

“Oh, um, can I help?” You go to grab the plate but she keeps it out of your grasp.

“No, honey, you’re our guest. You just…” she bats her lashes as you as her pretty cheeks bulb and her lips pull taut beneath her pink lipstick. She reaches to pet your cheek, “just relax, okay? You’re safe, now.”

You don’t know how to answer, so you don’t. You find it hard to even look at her. She’s so perfect and pristine. Of course Steve loves her. You’re so stupid!

You look across the table at the empty chairs and hear the kids giggling and stomping in the next room. Steve’s deep timbre rumbles under their chirpy tones. You stand up numbly and sidle out from in front of the chair.

“If you need to go lay down, you go ahead,” she squeezes your shoulder, “the kids can be so rambunctious.”

“Thanks, i… think I will.”

You pad off and stop just in the archway to the front room. You peer through and see the kids playing on the floor; Avery brushing the hair of her doll and Harper bashing trucks together as Steve pushes around another. He sits on the floor with them. He’s too good for you, you knew that all along.

He looks up and catches your eye. He smiles bigger and you make yourself walk away. You continue upstairs and into the room. Not your room, the room they allow you. Just like before. You’re just another burden.

You go to the bed and move the tablet from where you left it on the pillow. You keep yourself from putting it on the night table and slide back the cover. There’s an endless slew of notifications. Messages in all caps; emails notifying of you a new rating on your Etsy shop. Bubble after bubble.

Andy. His texts swing between pleading and anger. From accusations to desperate declarations of love. In one, he says he needs you so bad, in the next, he calls you ungrateful.

You flip to your inbox and tap the link to your shop. Every item ranked one star. All the way down. Long comments about being a scam or low quality or just profanity from top to bottom. It’s no coincidence.

You clap the cover over the screen and set it aside. You’ve burned that bridge but you don’t mind the smoke. Better than standing in the flame. 

You lay down, flat and feelingless. You stare at the ceiling until your eyes close on their own. You’re so so tired. You let yourself drift into a shallow sleep, the sort where the world exists just beyond a see-through curtain. Light, sound, and noise sifts through the cloudy layer of your subconscious.

The door snaps shut and you sit up with a gasp. For a moment, you’re back in the room at Andy’s house. It’s him standing at the foot of the bed, fuming as he snarls at you, ready to pounce. You shake off the daze and see clearly.

Ann stands with two glasses in her hands. The golden wine streams with bubbles as she smirks at you. You gulp and pull your legs up, folding them before you.

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, “I was hoping we could have some girl time while Steve puts the kids to bed.”

“Oh,” you frown. You're confused. You only just met her and she’s acting like your best friend. She’s too good to be true, just like her husband. Husband. Ugh.

“I had some pinot and I don’t usually have someone to share with,” she comes up the side of the bed and sits, holding out a glass.

“Well, er, I…” you accept it by the stem and stare through the yellow contents. “Thank you.”

“I checked with Steve that you’re not on anything it would interact with,” she assures.

You hold back a wince. Right, you’re still just patient to her. You’re surprised she let you sit at the same table as her children. You bring the brim towards your lips.

“Cheers,” she stops you and outstretches her arm.

“Cheers,” you clink your glass before rescinding it, greedily sipping. You remember not everything was so dire when you drank just enough.

She sips daintily, watching you over the crystal. She draws her lips away, a pink stain on the glass. Your cheeks are hot as you wait for her to look away. Does she hate you? Can she see right through you? Does she know about all those dumb emotions you’re drowning in?

She sighs and leans to place her glass next to your table. She sits back, planting her hand on the mattress as she angles herself toward you. She brings a knee up onto the mattress. You drink to calm your nerves.

“You are so pretty,” she says. You nearly choke as you sit up rigidly. Disbelief arches your brows and rounds your eyes. “Really, you are.”

“Um, thanks, you are too,” you eke out.

“You think so?” She challenges.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter.

“What makes me pretty?”

You shake your head, you don’t know what she means. You frown. “I don’t know… you… you’re makeup and… your hair. You… you have nice eyes.”

“Sweetie, you’re so cute,” she trills, “I could do you up. Put some makeup on you too, do your hair…” she touches your cheek again, brushing her knuckles along your skin. “You could put on something sexy.”

You grip the wine glass tight and pull away from her touch. You set the glass with hes  and turn to push away. She catches your arm and rips you back. You whimper as she covers your mouth and pushes you down onto your back.

She bends over you and hushes you, her breath tinged with wine. She hovers her mouth just above her hand as she smothers you with her palm. You whine and curl your fingers around the blankets.

“You’re okay, sweetie,” she purrs, “just relax. You wanna be ready for him, don’t you?”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you murmur into her palm.

“Let me help you out,” she trails her other hand down your stomach, poking along the front of your pants and dipping beneath, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You lock up. You couldn’t move if you tried. This can’t be happening. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do this? Why would Steve let her? He wouldn’t, right? She can see right through you and your childish crush. She’s just trying to scare you away.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

maybe for way down we go somehow agatha manipulates everyone/the evidence so it looks like she's innocent/falsely accused or reader has to hide her bc she doesn't want aggie to go back to jail idk I'm sorry lol i just love reading your work

way down we go: the aftermath (ii)

a/n: ok confess did you read my mind? but really, i’m so glad you sent this in bc i was wondering if the ideas i had were bad😭 but great minds think alike and so now here’s part 2 hehehe (also thank you anon! i’m so happy you enjoy my work!) edit: dear god i am so embarrassed by what i have written here but also i hope some of y'all like it?? oh god imma go climb in a hole christ maybe i should go back to church idk word count: 1.6k warning(s): first part of this fic is smut, or what i consider smut (ok idk why it's harder for me to write spicy shit on this blog when ive written it so many other times) the rest is back to normal production of murder, crime and debauchery; like a second or two of angst; im making so much of this shit up plz don't come for me

Once she started, it felt like she would never stop. 

You didn’t want her to. 

Your hands grasped Agatha’s neck and shoulders, trembling as she brought crashing waves of pleasure over you. With eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. But your wife wouldn’t allow you to rest. With the hand not pumping into you, she grasped your chin, forcing you to look at her as you pried your eyes open.

“Look at me,” her voice commanded softly as the heel of her hand pressed into your clit, drawing a surprised whimper from your lips as her pace became slow and languid, “I want to see what I do to you, what only I do to you.”

At her words, there was a question radiating in her eyes, along with a sudden hardness that took your remaining breath away. You tightened your grip on your wife, following her instructions and looking deep into her eyes. 

“There was no one else, there’s always been no one else. Only you.” 

Agatha nodded slightly, increasing her pace once more and looking proud of herself as your face twisted with pleasure. 

“Only me.”

Agatha added a finger, continuously brushing your bundle of nerves with the heel of her hand, relishing in your moans and how you wrapped your arms even tighter around her neck, bringing a hand to tangle in her hair and bring her into a crashing kiss. A battle for dominance was quickly lost as her tongue parted your lips, devouring you. You felt your mind grow hazy from pleasure, the hot coil in your abdomen threatening to snap. 

The ring of your phone interrupted everything. 

You felt it buzz in your backpocket, vibrating against the wall behind you. 

Agatha didn’t like your attention being taken away. 

She shifted, removing her fingers from you, much to your chagrin. You only had a moment to process before you were moved. In a blur, you now sat in the very chair Agatha once sat, your legs propped over her shoulders, your phone in her hand as she handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you watched it ring, Agatha’s eyes never leaving yours. 

“Answer it, we can’t have anyone worrying for you.” There was something in Agatha’s tone that you couldn’t decipher but you couldn’t go against what she told you to do. You put your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button. Darcy’s panicked ramblings flooded out, barely giving you time to answer any of her questions. 

“Did you see the news? Y/N, this is crazy. Do you think she escaped? Oh god with our luck she was behind it all! Where are you right now? Do you need company? Girl I can be over to your place so fast-”

You were quickly distracted from your best friend as you felt Agatha’s hands tighten on your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down with her teeth. She only took a second to take in the sight in front of her, your glistening folds, wet from the pleasure she gave you. Then she dove straight in. You could barely contain your surprised squeal, slapping your free hand over your mouth. 

She was relentless, fingers parting your folds as her mouth covered your entire core, tongue going straight to your clit. It was like she was doing everything to get you to fall apart before her and you were oh so close.

"...Y/N, are you ok?"

It was like Darcy was speaking to you underwater, your focus purely on how your wife's head moved between your legs. Swallowing back a moan as Agatha's tongue flattened and lapped harshly at your folds, you gave your friend an answer.

"Yeah...I'm, I'm just shaken. Can I call you la-later?"

You could practically feel Darcy's hesitation through the phone but the second she agreed you hit the hang up button. Throwing your phone onto the floor somewhere, your hands tangled in Agatha's hair, encouraging her. You felt her smirking before she removed a hand from your thigh to slip two fingers into you, almost immediately finding that electric spot within you. Paired with her lips and tongue staying firmly suctioned onto your clit, you felt your orgasm crash into you and over you. Your mind and body felt seperated as you caught your breath, Agatha peeling herself away from you, coming up to kiss your forehead. She nuzzled you with her nose for a moment, the soft action sending you into a light sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The weeks that followed Agatha's return were nothing less than stressful. Constantly looking over your shoulder as you walked into your home, unplugging every and any device that could connect to internet, and ordering food but having them deliver to your neighbor finally made you snap one day at the lab.

You knew how to do it, you knew how to collect evidence, how to manipulate it wasn't exactly hard.

The issue was Darcy.

While she was a great friend, constantly checking in on you, making sure you were okay with your supposed serial killer ex-wife being on the run, she was the greatest obstacle in your goal.

One night, while the two of you had dinner, you mentioned this to Agatha, angry at yourself for being untruthfull to your friend.

"Well, I could always," Agatha made a gesture with her knife jokingly, smirking to herself as she cut into the steak. It was like all the air left the room, the reminder of what your wife was hitting you like a truck. At your silence, Agatha looked up, her eyes widening at your expression. With a shaking hand, you pointed at your wife and shook your head.

"No, no, you don't-" your voice broke as everything swirled around in your mind, "You don't joke about that. Definitely not about Darcy."

Agatha opened her mouth to respond but you found yourself not wanting to hear her voice. Some petty, evil, part of you called from the dark part of your mind to call the police. Turn Agatha in once more and remove the weight from your shoulders.

You ignored that thought, instead pushing your chair away from the table before Agatha could speak and walking to the bedroom, calling over your shoulder.

"I'm going to bed, I need to think."

You got into your pajamas, going through your nightly routine with a lump in your throat, like your flight or fight was being triggered. It took a while for you to notice that Agatha had yet to come to bed, the time well into the night. Making your way into the living room, you took some steadying breaths. While your reaction was valid, maybe you should've stayed to listen to what she had to say. When you crossed the threshold into the living room, you saw that Agatha had gotten some spare blankets out of a closest, making bed on the couch. She too was awake and smiled at you hesitantly when she noticed you standing in the walkway.

"I didn't know if you would appreciate my company tonight." Her voice was soft, almost as if she was trying to be careful. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

"I always appreciate your company, I didn't appreciate the comment you made."

Agatha nodded, slowly getting up from the couch to come stand in front of you, holding her hands up as if she wanted to hold you.

"It's too early for jokes, I understand."

At a peculiarly pointed glare, Agatha quickly added on,

"And Darcy is off limits, of course. I would never, I mean- she's safe, totally safe."

Some part of you wanted to laugh at your flustered serial killer wife but you simply held out a hand, pulling her back to your bedroom, your plan and anxiety of tomorrow swirling in your head.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd never been more grateful for a robbery before. Since you specialized in murder or special victim cases, you were able to stay behind in the lab while Darcy and Jimmy went to case the gas station and talk to the poor teen who was at the register. You reviewed the two key pieces of evidence that were used to hammer the final nail in Agatha's coffin. A strand of hair and the blood profile. Anything else was circumstancial or based on a loose psychological profile.

The hair was easy enough to make doubtful as it wasn't a reliable source by itself. The follicle of the strand wasn't even attatched, meaning the only use this had was to be compared with a strand of Agatha's hair taken during the trial process.

One click and the hair was digitally gone.

The blood, however, was the tricky part. It was a 94% match to your wife, meaning it could either be her or a relative. You felt your stomach drop when you realized this could be the evidence that ruins everythings.

Until you noticed something.

In your report, in the other forensic report, and in the court transcript, it said the other blood profile was heavily mixed into the victims. You did a cross reference between Agatha's supposed blood and the victims, the result showing that one couldn't be distinguished from the other. Agatha's blood was triggered as the closest possible match of the two blood profiles, even though realistically the computer should've said the evidence was inconclusive.

An excuse formed in your head.

You, and your team, were so focused on catching the serial killer that had been terrorizing the town, you had overlooked key inconsistencies, instead focusing on the one true suspect you'd had on the case.

One click. The blood was deemed inconclusive.

One click, the case was reopened.

One click, all evidence of Agatha being guilty was erased.

One click, no one would know it was you who had manipulated the system.

One click.

Agatha was officially innocent.

a/n: was this ok? lie to me and say yes, wait no don't do that I'll get happy then remember you're lying and then ill be sad. on another note, r is officially a criminal whoo. i do have something planned for this series but can y'all tell me if you genuinely like this series? many thanks 🙏

[2kyo7]

𓇼𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐌𓇼 | 06

pairing ; neteyam sully , lo’ak sully , aonung , & more x female reader

𓏲 ➥ summary ; You were always told to never trust the likes of monsters or you’d be eaten whole. But monsters can be so deceptive and cunning, how could you resist?

warnings ; name-calling , jealous aonung , argument

notes ; this is the final unposted chapter of the hiatus, no more left:((

YOUR FEET TREAD LIGHTLY across the soft but durable fabric that created pathways throughout Awa'atlu, causing your body to bounce up and down with every sudden movement, while a sluggish Ao'nung was not so fast to match your hurried pace. "_____ why so rushed today? You tìyawn our walks..." He stood solid and unmoving, his hold unrelenting on your fingers as they intertwined with his own seemed almost permanent. "Hmm? Tell me."

tìyawn - love

Ao'nung tilted his head with a hum, complimented by his signature smirk, as if that would prompt you to answer him any sooner. "Maybe I am unworthy to walk with Olo'eyktans son," you jokingly mocked his notorious title, beginning to sway circles around him, his body turning to keep track of your own. "Or," Ao'nungs tone became deeper—more serious within a matter of seconds, every ounce of playfulness drained from his expression.

"You are in a hurry to see that forest devil." A newfound death grip was placed along your biceps while he flipped you around to face himself, not a single inch of space left to breathe. You found yourself almost scared, but remembered this was harmless Ao. The same boy who still needed help braiding his hair and couldn't tell rotting fruit from ripe, at the realization you became rather irritated. "What are you saying?"

His forehead crashed into yours and not in a loving or comforting manor you'd grown accustomed to—no harm was done—but the action was still quite rough. "You know exactly what. O'laya told me she saw you and him together last night. Alone. Touching." Your eyes narrowed impossibly more, and Ao'nungs intense glare wasn't letting up. "How dare you. I would never muntxa si with anyone much less na'rìng na'vi."

muntxa si - mate with marry

na'rìng - forest

"Hard to believe when others saw too." Ao'nung lightened his grip ever so slightly, you took the chance to push him away. "I never claimed we were not together txonam," you take multiple needed steps back, extra precaution in case he made another attempt. "And it should not be a worry of yours who I spend my time with. Forest devil or no."

txonam - last night

Ao'nung released a sharp hiss, "of course it is my worry—you are my..."

"Your what Ao'nung?" You let out an equally poisonous hiss, becoming closer to him, this time on your own accord. He struggled to gather his thoughts into a comprehensive response, hurt taking the place of anger. "Tsk, exactly." You brush past him coldly, seeking the walkway's edge before you dove into cool waters that surrounded it. Leaving a stunned, shattered Ao'nung alone with only his thoughts.

Soothing gentle circles around your tender, slightly discolored arm where your fight with Ao'nung had occurred, a small pout wearing down your features at the thought of it. You'd known Ao'nung all your life and while you knew he only had good intentions in mind, there are better ways to convey a discomfort about something than whatever that was. You decided forgiveness would be granted when your arms felt better (nearing the day's end) and he himself apologized for his actions.

Besides, you couldn't stay angry at your Ao forever, especially with the saddened eyes he'd been sending your way.

"Manga," Roxto whistled after calling out to you, spitting water in your face for good measure. "You and your boyfriend have a fight or something? Pey do not answer that. The two of you are more than fight feet apart!" A sudden splash overcame Roxto as he struggled to keep the unexpected water out of unwanted places. "Quiet Roxto, all you do is speak speak speak! And what do you imply? We spend too much time together?"

manga - hey you

pey - wait

Rotxo's arms rose above his head to show he meant no harm, "geez, sorry—but it is funny how quick one can see when you two are in disagreement." You sent him a quick nudge to the face, "quiet my nerves are gone enough." He laughed aloud at your offensiveness, before something else caught his attention.

"Look there," Roxto nodded his head towards the approaching na'vi, the two of you watch for the umpteenth time as they carelessly jump into these ocean waters, a lack of proper guidance evident in their forms. Only for a moment did you catch a glimpse of Neteyam's golden eyes meet yours, quickly being shallow out by the water. You let out a deep sigh, "there is a long way to go." He nodded in agreement, swimming to meet Tsireya and Ao'nung, you quickly followed suit except pretending that a certain someone wasn't there entirely.

You tried to wait—you really did, but everyone looked as if they moved in slow motion, so you raced ahead without consideration, diving among the many creatures that resided within Eywa's wonderful sea. There were many things you noticed whenever finding the time to look back to the others, their lungs were weak, and on top of that they couldn't understand sign. It honestly made you reconsider your promise to Tuk and Neteyam many times. Everyone began to regroup towards the surface where you joined them.

"Are you alright?" Tsireya questioned the siblings with earnest concern, "you're too fast! Wait for us!" Tuk spoke on behalf of her family, her response made earned a laugh from yourself, you swam over and removed hair away from her face.

"You are not good divers—maybe good at swimming through trees but..." You coughed to silence the laugh that threatened to rise. Ao'nung looked over with a proud expression at almost making you laugh, his happiness was quickly revoked when his sister strikes him with little hesitation. "Tuktirey, I see you have already forgotten my words to you."

Tuk hummed, appearing in deep thought. She searched every inch of her memory in recall to yesterday's event. "You said...do not fear the waves. Fighting will only make it harder." You nodded, a gentle grin on display, "that's exactly it Tuktirey—this goes for the rest of you also," you take quick glances over the others. "Eywa has already accepted you into her beautiful waters, now you must allow yourself to be taken by them." You give them a simple demonstration by calming your breathing, eyes closed shut, feeling the water consume you on all sides.

Everyone watched your actions carefully, "yes breathe..." Tsireya added in a more direct sense, nodding as she did so. "Just breathe."

"We don't speak this...finger talk." Neteyam continued to grin though he seemed genuinely confused, playing with his own fingers to mimic the actual motions. "We don't know what you're saying." He looked to you almost pleadingly—I'm lost, guide me—his eyes read. You shook your head side to side, a small smile barely visible playing on your lips at his description. "No Neteyam, not finger talk, we call it sign. It is second tongue to us Metkayina."

Neteyam hummed, hanging on every word you spoke as he swam past his brother to be in closer proximity to you and Tuk. Aonung bared his teeth at the entire interaction, pray in that moment a wave overtook Neteyam, and him only. Tsireya’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head when seeing her brother's jealousy. "I will teach you." She looked over the group, "we all will."

Your ears perked up when Roxto's gasp beside you, "where is Kiri?" He asked, causing everyone to turn their heads in search of the female na'vi. "Kiri?" Tuk frantically called out for her sister. "Who?" Suddenly everyone started to repeat the name like a chant. "That girl is gone." You say in half meaningful concern, but mostly in surprise you hadn't noticed beforehand. Without notice you immerse the rest of your body into the water, splashing both Roxto and Tuk.

Ao'nung grabbed ahold of your tail before you could swim any further, preventing you from moving for the second time today. Unbelievable. Pulling your tail out of his grasp, you in turn whipped him with it. "Where are you going?" He angrily signed, now swatting your tail away from him. "To look for the weird girl." You began swimming once more, but felt his presence lingering behind. "Alone." You sent him a deadpan look, physically making him sulk.

You scoured the reef's sandy floor in search of a dark blue, lanky, out-of-place, female na'vi. Hoping she wouldn't be foolish enough to wonder any further, or even better, she retreated into the comfort of her home possibly getting spooked by an ocean animal. Though never in a million years would you think to see the foreign (former) Omatikaya this indulged in Eywa's sea—maybe even more so than yourself.

From behind a patch of rocks, you watched in complete shock as Kiri scouts the unfamiliar water, completely unafraid. She fearlessly swims alongside the animals, curiously observing them in complete awe, occasionally reaching out to touch. Your position would soon be compromised as your skimwing Kanaya came cutting through the water and barreling towards you at top speed, releasing a horrid screech to let her presence be known.

You shook your head quickly in a pitiful attempt to shoo her away but it was futile. Kanaya often greeted you like this, it had simply been in her nature to do so, she was rowdy, wild, antsy, but most of all—yours. Using her bill she nudged all around your belly resulting in a very ticklish you to nearly lose control of your breathing. Before you could even remotely get the chance to gain composure, Kiri rounded the boulder looking to Kanaya with bright eyes, then spotting you, making her immediately recoil.

How ungrateful, you begin to regret searching for her out of the goodness of your soul, moving to gently wrap your arm around Kanaya's neck, the two of you followed close behind while Kiri promptly swam away. She soon reached out to touch a school of fish, who avoided her hand entirely and instead circled around you, rubbing their smooth scales along your skin. Kiri crossed her arms with a huff when seeing the pink tongue that darted out from between your lips teasingly.

Slowly you reached down to pick a dark spiky vegetable from the rest of its brethren, letting Kanaya take a bite before handing it to Kiri. Her expression was one of extreme doubt, but ultimately received it. It's contents were nude in color, soft and mushy too, soon the same school of fish flocked to her in order to feed from what she held, looking to you with great suspicion.

You motioned Kiri to follow you up towards the surface, and she obliged, feeling herself begin to grow dizzy for desperately much needed air. How long had she been down there anyways.

"That vegetable is greatly loved among ocean creatures," you spoke calmly, your voice relatively steady for the first time (around Kiri at least). Once more she reached out to an unknown animal, though this time Kiri was welcomed with hostility, Kanaya biting away her hands. "Woah!" Kiri was quick to withdraw the limb, you laugh, rubbing Kanaya's neck up and down to sooth her worry. "Careful, she is of tsurak. They are not tstunwi, especially to strangers."

tsurak - skimwing

tstunwi - kind

"What's her name?" Kiri observed your skimwing, who sent looks of caution towards her. "Kanaya, and she is mine. I earned her around the age of thirteen—she is my world." Before you could explain any further, Kiri cut your words short, "why are you here?" She asked, watching as you mount Kanaya, "no, why are you here? You have already missed valuable lessons I've taught your siblings." Kiri seriously doubted that, "you haven't taught us anything since we arrived, can you blame me?" Almost as if she had said nothing at all, you make the bond with Kanaya and continue speaking. "Come, don't think holding your breath for long makes you Metkayina."

[rae-and-mezo]

Could you write headcanon Seb and Omi being mean at reader so they cries and run away. The boys come to them to apologize.

Sebastian and Ominis say Awful Things During a Fight

A/N: This turned out a lot more like a blurb than headcanons, oops! I liked this one, angst is fun. I'm sorry it took me so long, finals are KILLING ME!

Seb:

You're sitting in the Undercroft with an ice pack to your head. Admittedly, you shouldn't have dove into the cave without a Wiggen weld potion. But you don't regret going in, how else would you save the Merlops from dark wizards.

Luckily you got out with just a concussion, Poppy dragged you away just in time.

But Sebastian heard the news in the form of a rumor, and he didn't hesitate to run out of charms class and towards where he hoped you were.

"Mc! Oh Merlin, what did you do?" He didn't even greet you as he stormed into the cold room.

You winced, half because of the pain and half because you had hoped Seb wouldn't find out.

"Hello, Sebastian." You greeted without turning around. After all, you weren't sure you could keep from crying. Sebastian grabbed your shoulders and turned you to face him gently.

He simply shook his head in wonder as he took the ice pack and examined your head. "It looks bad."

"It's really not." Sebastian frowns at your dismissal. "Okay, well, either way, it needs to be healed. The hospital wing isn't a good idea, they'll just ask questions. I'll run and grab a wiggenweld...no, I should stay with you. Anne taught me a healing charm a few years ago, I can attempt it if you would like."

"Sebastian."

"On second thought, I shouldn't try an unknown charm on you. Is it more of an aching pain or sharp pain? I have some herbs in my bag and-"

"Sebastian." He looks up at you fiercely. Around anyone else he hides his emotions, but around you it seems they flow right from his sleeve. Is he shaking? He is, you decide, but because it's cold. At least that's better than admitting he is shaking because of the fear you caused him.

"I'm alright."

"No, you're not. Look at this lump! How did you even get it?" the uncomfortable silence told both of you that he didn't really want to know.

"It will heal Sebastian."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does!" Sebastian stands up with his hands in his hair. "Merlin, it does! You do this every bloody week, go off on some quest and come back beat up. Why don't you ever ask somebody to go with you? Is it your pride? I bet it is."

Taken aback by his outburst, your eyes widen. "I just ran into an unexpected group of poachers, Sebastian I promise."

"I don't doubt it. You...you probably scouted them out, right? You're always looking for more ways to get into danger anyways. You don't trust me. That's why you don't ask me to go with you. Either you don't trust me, or you're lying." He paces a small portion of the room.

"I do trust you, Seb. I just want to protect you."

"Is that what you call it? Lying to me about where you're going and then hurting yourself?" He turns to face you and steps closer. "Let me tell you something. You're going to die out there. A slow, painful death because you're too fucking stubborn too ask for help." When you don't budge, he narrows his eyes. "Will anyone grieve? We will miss you, but we all would know it was coming. Every one of us would know, I promise. And as much as we would miss you, we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore."

Silence.

"Fuck you."

And then, you're off. A blur of tears, are you shaking? You are. No sounds but the thumping of your feet on the corridors. Your head hurts.

You couldn't comprehend what Sebastian had said, it was too painful. A fog filtered through your mind and you didn't stop to think somebody might have seen you running. Everything inside hurt.

If you were gone, it would be a burden off of everyone's back. That's what he said. It hurt so bad you clutched at your chest.

In the dungeons, you couldn't run anymore. So you collapsed into the nearest wall in a mess of sobs. Of course, he was right. Of course he was. Had he ever been wrong?

And it's three days (or really, an hour) until Sebastian comes and finds you. He has tears running down his face too.

"Mc!"

"Fuck off."

You might agree with him, but you don't want to see him. He sits down opposite of you, and he's still shaking.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Silence.

"I didn't mean it."

Silence.

"I swear, MC, I was just worried and-"

He stops when you turn to face him. "Sebastian. Shut up." The harsh words shock him. "You were right."

"No!" Those eyes you love so much widen. "I wasn't, don't say that! Mc, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, let alone Hogwarts. I would- no, the world would be devastated to lose you. All you were trying to do was protect us and the innocent creatures. I was terrified something happened to you, and took it out in the worst way possible. I am beyond sorry, my love."

You frown as you took in his face. Wide brown eyes, messy hair from sprinting towards you, swollen eyebags and a red neck from the near hyperventilating breaths he had been taking.

"I'm sorry too." He smiles and holds a hand out halfway too you. An invitation, maybe. "You don't need to be. How about this? I'll work on taking my anger out, and we can come up with a way for you to tell me if you're about to, you know, jump into a poacher ring."

"Sounds like a plan." You shake his hand.

Ominis

Yet again, the two of you were arguing.

It all had started a few days earlier with a letter from Ominis's parents. They had found a wife for him, a distant cousin capable of legilimency. With her powers and his Parseltoungue, they could make the ultimate heirs of Slytherin.

You wished that Ominis was able to forget things. He never had been, and never would be, but it would make your life easier. Instead, he fixated on a story his older brother had told him of one of their second cousins. Albert was his name. And he had refused to marry the bride his parents picked out. He was forced to marry her with a blade to his sisters throat and a noose around his beloved's neck.

It was probably just a tale, you told him. Maybe it was, but Ominis could never take the risk. You had spent the last few days trying to get into his head, but he prevailed. The attempts had ended in pure passive agression.

All he wanted was too keep you safe from his family, but all you had waned was him.

Here you sat, on the quidditch pitch in the middle of the night. An odd place to be sure, but it was secluded. And you could put as much distance between the two of you as you wanted.

"Are you even going to try and fight for us, Ominis?"

"try? I've been trying! I've done everything but refuse, and if I do it will kill you."

"You don't know that!"

"MC, it's not that easy. I love you too much to-"

"Love me so much you're willing to marry someone else and write me off? How is this fair to me?"

"It's not, and it's not fair to me either. But I don't have a choice." You glared at him as he swept a hand through his hair.

"like hell you dont!" You snarl. "Run away with me."

"MC, you know we can't do that. They'll find us." His look of pure heartbreak would have hurt if you weren't pissed off. "MC..."

"I don't want to talk about this right now. I don't want to talk right now." He frowned at your words. "this isn't easy for me either, MC,"

"I didn't say it was."

"Are you even trying to listen to me? Do you EVER listen to me?" Ominis runs an angry hand through his hair. "Do you listen to me MC, or do you ever listen to anybody?"

"Oh really, Ominis?" you stand. "you want to go there?"

"I swear, MC, you only care about yourself." You raised an eyebrow. "And that's why I saved hogwarts, and your ass right?"

"Just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do. I never loved you."

Logically, you knew he was under a lot of stress and trying to protect his own feelings. But emotionally, it hit you like a bullet to the chest. You take a deep breath and turn to walk away.

"You're going to run away now?"

You started running. And didn't stop until you got to the Undercroft. Sure, he could find you there, but it was far, far away from the pitch and that's all you wanted in the moment. You crumbled against the wall and cried. How could he ever say that? It kept playing in your mind, over and over.

Tears kept coming, then they came some more, and eventually you fell asleep. It was exhausting to cry, after all. And when you woke up, there was something in your hair.

A hand.

Ominis was sitting next to you, running a hand through your hair, his face pale and blank. You had never seen his eyes so devoid of emotion. Instinctively, you curled up to him, but when you remembered what he said, you jumped away.

He looked down at you with sad, sad eyes. "I'm not even going to try to apologize. I don't deserve to be forgiven. Just, please don't make this more painful than it has to be. I know you never want to talk to me again. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Fuck off." You groaned, scotting away from him. "I don't want to speak to you."

"I know. I just wanted to apologize before leaving." He sighed, raking a hand through his unusually messy hair. "I didn't mean what I said. I love you more than I could ever put into words. I am nothing without you. I have only ever wanted to protect you, and if that means having to say goodbye, so be it."

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. "You, Ominis, are an Idiot. I want you. I don't want you to say goodbye to protect me. All I want is for you to fight for me. I'm not mad about you saying you didn't love me. I was, but I know you didn't mean it. I am, however, furious that you aren't giving me a chance to fight for you, and that you aren't fighting for me."

"I want too. I will send an Owl to my parents first thing in the morning to tell them I won't marry her. That they can either cast me from the family or accept it, but it's what's going to happen."

You look up at him, wide eyed at his willingness to fight for your love.

"Really?" You ask and hate that you sound rather like a small child.

"Really." He wiped your tears with his thumbs and smiled gently. "I know you aren't ready to forgive me yet, but I'm here and I'm not leaving."

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hi, sorry!!Hope you’re having a nice day! May you make a fanfic where the reader is very secretive, formal and keeps to themself, like they never take off their suit’s mask kinda secretive. And hobie is curious about them and wants to get to know them better?

this was such a fun prompt to write! Thx for requesting <3

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader - Mysterious

WC: <1k

Masterlist

🕷 ______________________________________________________🕷

"Hey Y/N!"

"Hi Peter."

"Hi Y/N!!"

"Hi Peter."

You awkwardly nodded at the passing Spider-people, all of them greeting you excitedly while you barely acknowledged them, keeping your eyes in front of you. There was no point in engaging in a conversation, it'd only end up with you having to answer their questions and force yourself into the open. You weren't ready for that just yet.

You kept your head down as you walked through the door of the training center, pretending not to notice the few Peters that waved at you while fighting, friendly yet blank smiles on their faces. They were all the same.

"Hey, Y/N."

You stopped for a moment and turned around, being greeted by a familiar face that you hadn't seen in the past few days. The same face that was the worst of them all, asking you more questions about yourself and your past life than all the other Peters combined.

"Hi Hobie." You muttered, about to turn away again. You did not want to start a conversation with him right now. It always ended with him probing you with questions about your dimension, your family, your canon events...he was too curious to take a hint.

"Woah, where d'you think you're goin' sunshine?" He asked with a grin, following you as you. "Y'can't get rid of me that easy."

"Obviously not." You mumbled, slowing down your pace when you realized you wouldn't be able to shake him off. He watched you for a moment, as if inspecting you, dark brown eyes running over your mask and suit. "Why do you never take off that mask?" He asked out of the blue, cocking his head towards you slightly.

"I don't feel like it" You replied dryly, not making eye contact with him. "Why don't you feel like it, then?" He asked sweetly, a sly expression crossing his face. "Are you horribly disfigured or something?"

"I just don't find it necessary." Your tone was as cold as you could make it, the annoyance at his presence practically oozing out of your body. "And why's that?" He asked, making his tone as childish as possible, obviously trying to annoy the crap out of you. Little shit. "Because my face shouldn't matter."

"But it's not just your face, is it?" He chuckled. "It's your story too. I've known you for a month, but I don't know a single thing about you" His tone turned teasing. "You have something to hide?"

You froze. "I just don't like talking about it, okay?" You snapped, looking up at him. He backed down slightly, hands going up in the air defensively. "Alright, alright...I'm still curious though." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his vest, leaning in once again. "I mean, we've all experienced the same things...what makes you so special?"

"I never said I was special." You said with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest. "Ahh, but you act like you're special." He replied. "All mysterious and secretive...makes me think you've got something a little different."

"What if it's just none of your business?"

He shrugged. "I'd still like to know."

You shook your head and turned away from him again, but he gently grabbed your arm before you could leave. "Wait!" he said quickly, getting back in front of you. "I just want to get to know you better, dove."

"Why?"

"I just...would like to."

You stayed silent for a moment, mulling it over. "If I answer your questions, will you leave me alone?" He rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be friends, but if that's what you'd like..."

"I'd like you to leave me alone."

"Will do, princess. Now first question-why hide your face?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, already regretting giving him his chance. "I just don't want to take it off."

"I won't leave you alone if you don't answer my questions."

"Fine, fine." you said quickly, "I just don't trust any of these people with my identity."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think they're gonna use it against you?" He asked amusedly, a laugh on the tip of his tongue. "We're all Spider-man too...I think you're a bit mental."

"Shut up!" You said annoyedly, shaking your head at him. "I just have...trust issues, okay?" You murmured, just barely loud enough for him to hear. His smile widened at this confession and he lowered his voice as well. "Honestly? Me too."

"Uh-huh" you replied, not buying into it. "No really-" he responded, "-you know, when I first got here, I wouldn't say a single word to LYLA. Still don't. I don't trust anything that robots got to say."

You chuckled at this. "That's not the same though-" You began.

"I didn't trust people with my face either, 'til I realized everyone's got their mask off so it doesn't really matter." he interjected

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. How cute. "Alright, next question-"

"Hey, I've already answered a question!" You said, a smile appearing on your face.

"You never said I was only allowed one question." he teased, wagging his finger in your face.

"Jerk."

"Why don't you want to be friends with me?" He tilted his head to the side and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty. You'd been fairly rude to him in the time that you'd known him. Although he was pretty annoying, he still wasn't the worst.

"I just...I'm not very good at making friends." You admitted, breaking eye contact and looking to the side awkwardly. He nodded solemnly, not taking his eyes off of you. "I get it."

"No I'm like really bad at making friends. I just...don't like people. I don't get people."

"Don't feel bad about it. To each their own, right?" he assured you, eyes crinkling up slightly as he grinned.

You grinned back. "I guess you're right."

"Doesn't mean we can't be friends though."

You laughed. "Why do you want to be friends with me so bad?"

"You're mysterious. It draws me in." He said jokingly. "But really, I just want to get to know you." he said, almost embarrassedly. "And I'd like you to get to know me too."

You stared at each other in silence. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I kind of have to now." You said with a chuckle, extending your hand out to him. "Why don't we start over?"

"Sounds perfect, darling. I'm Hobie, Hobie Brown. You?" He said with a smile, taking your hand and shaking it vigorously. "It's nice to meet you, Hobie Brown. I'm Y/N."

[summerofspock]

Tagged by @shichidikai and @bageltopia to answer 20 writerly questions. Thanks so much for the tag! Some of these answers are embarrassing lmao

How many works do you have on ao3?

194 (in my defense I have been on there for over 10 years)

What's your total ao3 word count?

2,392,769 😩

What are your top five fics by kudos

Just One More (It Couldn't Hurt) - Star Trek

Car Trouble - Good Omens

mad or well-advised - Good Omens

South Downs - Good Omens

Under Construction - Good Omens

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently? One Piece and I'm fiddling with Arcane behind the scenes without posting. But I have written for Avatar The last Airbender, Game of Thrones, Star Trek, The Magnus Archives, Silmarillion, My Hero Academia, and MXTX works.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

OK so my inbox is a fucking mess. I do try to respond to comments but once I fall behind I fall so behind. And once I start getting mean comments or concrit, it's hard for me to go back and respond to comments on a fic. Usually, I'll respond in a big wave to comments on the last chapter before posting the next but sometimes I forget.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really write unhappy endings. 🤔 I currently have an abandoned wip that ends at an unhappy spot and I have a few dead dove oneshots that are pretty angsty but no multichaps. Maybe feather of lead.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They are genuinely all so happily ever after fluffy that it's hard to choose. Maybe Car Trouble. Or after all the angst, you might consider the ending of such small words super happy. Idk.

Do you get hate on fics?

Depends on how you define hate. I get comments telling me I made incorrect choices or that my fics are wrong in some way for doing xyz. I get character hate. I've been told I'm a bad person for writing certain kinks or tropes on pwps or that I'm perpetuating stereotypes and that's damaging. Annoying shit like that.

Do you write smut?

Lmao yes

Do you write crossovers?

I've done it once! Star Trek/Good Omens for shits and giggles.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

One time. It got taken down fairly quickly though.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! A handful of times. It's always so cool when people ask.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes. With my beloved collaborater naromoreau. I think we have like eight fics we wrote together? Probably about 200k collaborated words at this point. I've learned so much from her and nothing is as fun as writing with her.

What's your all time favorite ship?

I will probably never get over spirk.

What's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hot Sugar. I'm so sorry but I lost the will.

What are your writing strengths?

I am a fast writer. My methods of getting through writers block almost never fail. But those aren't strengths that translate to the page.

On the page, I think I'm good with character psychology and motivations which I think shows up well in dialogue, pacing and plot beats. My writing is concise mostly because if I don't have a reason for including something, I will cut it. I'm a brutal editor and will kill my darlings without remorse.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am a fast writer lmao which sometimes means I write too much and quality dips massively because the mental reservoir will empty and I end up tapping an empty well. While I like to think I am concise and efficient at conveying things, I sometimes think I "underwrite" or perhaps "overtell."

Thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages?

As a younger writer, I did it but only because I spoke that language. I think there might be value. Here we come back to, if you can make a compelling argument for *why* it serves the story then I'm open to it but also you better check with someone who is fluent.

First fandom you wrote for

Star Trek. Unless you count my notebook scribbling of inuyasha fic when I was 14.

Favorite fic you've written

God ok. I've written nearly 200 fics across a gazillion fandoms so there's a few. Most recently life in your shape for One Piece because I challenged myself to write something low conflict and loved how it came out. Watermark from Good Omens. And Grossly Undeserved from Star Trek.

I just love writing about what love means to different people!!!

If you read this whole ass thing then have a kiss on the forehead and know i love you.

I'll tag @naromoreau @softzosan if you'd like! Most other folks I know have gotten tagged already!