starlit-writer

[starlit-writer]

so… i’m writing the second chapter of archangels of the ocean (my pacific rim au with tf141), but i honestly am really struggling with the reader insert part of it. i’ve never written a fanfic with an OC, but i have written multiple “traditional” fiction pieces, and i think that feels more comfortable for me with this story. so, i guess i have a question for yall.

[starlit-writer]

if yall ever have any doubt about how much comments mean to authors on their fics, here’s proof that it means the WORLD to us!!!!

i posted the first chapter of archangels of the ocean last night (my pacific rim au with tf141), and within a few hours of posting, i got a very, very kind comment that really dove deep into how this reader felt about the piece and i CRIED!!! it brought me so so so much joy to see someone really interact with and dissect my work with their own thoughts, and it truly made my absolute day.

so, please, as both an author and a reader, COMMENT ON PEOPLE’S FICS!!! tell them how it made you feel!!! what you liked about it!!! what theories or ideas you have!!!

[starlit-writer]

archangels of the ocean - pt. 1 (pacific rim au)

pairing — (eventual) simon riley x reader

warnings — description of (science fiction) medical testing, mention of death of an unnamed minor character

word count — 2,260

authors note — thank you to everyone who was so excited to read this! i'm honestly excited to be exploring this world. here's to a new endeavor! if you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

masterlist ao3 link pt. 2

A year ago, the first monsters arrived, appearing from deep within the Pacific Ocean. Towering, vicious alien entities that seemed to be hellbent on destroying as much human life and property as they could. The first attack was off the coast of Japan, and the monsters were soon named Kaiju, a fitting name that instantly conjured images straight out of classic Japanese monster films. With their slick, grey-scaled hides and the glowing blue acid pulsing through their bodies, these beasts looked like something more at home in a Godzilla film than real life. Unfortunately, real life is not like the movies, and these were no actors in rubber suits. No, these beasts were meaner, louder, and very much alive. And they were here to kill. 

The first Kaiju took seven days to take down. The fighter jets, the missiles, bullets, nothing that was in the current arsenal worked until a fighter pilot got one lucky shot with a hellfire missile. After that attack, more Kaiju came bursting through what was now known as the Breach, found 304 kilometers away from Guam in the deepest section of the Mariana Trench. The attacks, at this point, were still months apart, and the militaries of the world started to adapt to this newfound threat, but the economic and humanitarian loss was catastrophic. Thankfully, science and technology had been quietly innovating in the background for years, pushed forward by the evermoving military industrial complex, and had already begun testing mechsuits. Giant, hulking suits of metal with offensive and defensive capabilities that had only been seen before in science fiction. After UN decree, the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps was formed, and with it came the mechs from the Jaeger program. 

With the formation of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, the focus of the world’s militaries went from intercontinental battles to the Kaijus, making regular, run of the mill missions pretty much non-existent. Therefore, every military personnel was required to take a compatibility test. At first, no one was told what this test was. An officer or an enlisted would be quietly taken out of formation one day, and half of the people who were pulled out were never seen again. 

The test was itself wasn’t a secret. However, what happened in the test was. And when a bored platoon is given uncertainty and disappearing brothers, rumors are bound to follow quickly after. It was a pretty unanimous agreement that the personnel who were now mysteriously missing from rosters and barracks rooms had failed the test. Some whispered that the flunkees were quietly removed from military service, as they were incapable of performing at the level that they were required to. Others, the more pessimistic of the rumors, argued that the people who had failed the tests were killed. But, even the other soldiers, the ones who were seen after their test, they disappeared shortly after too. Something about reassignment, whatever that meant. 

Simon Riley, the battle-hardened lieutenant of Task Force 141, didn’t realize the truth until it was too late. He’d been told, like the others, that this test was just a new kind of combat readiness assessment, something routine. No one questioned it. It was the military, there was always new tests and paperwork and other bureaucratic hoops to jump through. But, when he was brought into a quiet, sterile room, there were no obstacle courses, no marksmanship tests, and no shouting instructors. Instead, he was met with white walls, the gentle hum of various machines, and rows of stiff medical beds. Three other soldiers were already there, men and women he didn’t recognize, sitting silently, each with their own impersonal orderly. 

One of the men, a younger soldier with close-cropped red hair and a kind, freckled expression, gave Simon a small wave, the barest flicker of human connection in this cold, clinical space. An orderly quickly shut down the gesture with a sharp glare, as if even that tiny movement was against some sort of unspoken rule. That’s when Simon knew, deep in his gut, that something wasn’t right. 

However, a soldier follows orders, no matter their gut feelings. It’s not worth it to rock the boat. This was probably just some sort of new medical testing for airborne contaminants from the Kaiju or something. So, when the orderly that had brought Simon in gestured towards one of the medical beds, he sat. As the orderly started to place a metallic contraption on his head, Simon stole one last glance at the red-headed soldier that was seated next to him. The kid was barely old enough to shave, let alone wear a uniform. Simon watched as the red-head’s hands trembled slightly in his lap. Must be fresh out of training, Simon figured. Probably just got assigned to the base. 

The contraption was snug, cold metal pressing into his skull with clinical precision. Simon mentally ticked off each contact point (frontal, temporal, occipital) as if checking off boxes on a form. Great, he thought. Another fuckin’ psych test. 

The click of the machine being turned on reverberated through his head like the knell of a death bell, but he barely had time to register it before images rapidly started flashing in his own mind - sharp, fast, relentless. They exploded behind his eyes like flashes of lightning. It was dizzying, like falling through a psychedelic kaleidoscope of memories that weren’t quite his. By the time the contraption was lifted from his head, it felt like hours had passed, but the clock on the wall across from him hadn’t moved more than a minute. Simon’s skull throbbed with dull pain, and a high-pitched ringing screamed through his ears like the aftermath of a blast. Blinking through the haze of the bright, clinical light Simon turned his head slightly to glance at the red-headed soldier who had been sitting beside him. A cold wave snaked down his spine as his gaze met a bloodied white sheet being pulled over the last visible tufts of red fuzz on the top of the soldier's head. Simon never even knew his name. 

Simon opened his mouth slightly to try and speak, but his tongue felt heavy and useless, like it no longer belonged in his mouth. Before he could muster a sound, the orderly who had been scribbling down Simon’s results quickly grabbed onto his jaw and yanked his head back to force his gaze away from the body and back up towards the ceiling. She leaned over him and looked down, her blue eyes cold and emotionless. “Lieutenant Riley,” she said flatly. “You passed the drift compatibility test. Congratulations. You will be shipped out to the Hong Kong Shatterdome on the next flight out. You have until 0300 to gather your belongings and pack what you will need.”

Simon’s head was spinning. Drift compatibility? He had never heard of it. His ears were still ringing, even if it had dulled slightly. He blinked again, trying to piece together what was happening. This felt like the beginning of a bad psychological horror movie. He swallowed thickly, trying to fight past the nausea that was bubbling up his throat. “What about… the rest of my squad?” he croaked. His voice scraped out, rough and weak, and he hated the way that it trembled in the air. 

The orderly sighed and rolled her eyes. “They are to be tested later. It was deemed… inadvisable for a squad as tightly knit as yours to test together. It would have caused problems with the synaptic wave formations. If they pass, they should be on the same flight out as you. Now, you need to get up and go pack. Do not speak of this.”

----------

Simon sat on the edge of his bunk for what felt like hours after the test. His elbows were resting on his knees, the rough camouflaged cotton of his cargos biting into his tattooed skin. He had a private room, same as everyone in TaskForce 141, but it all still felt too quiet. Usually, there would be low jazz playing from the commons while Captain Price smoked on a cigar, Soap laughing loudly at a shitty joke, or just the clink of boots on tile. But now, their barracks felt as if they had long since been abandoned. And maybe they had. 

Simon’s gaze slowly drifted to the standard-issue duffel bag that sat open, the dusty brown canvas yawning open like the dirt around an empty grave. 

His hands were moving before his brain caught up. Shirts. Socks. Pants. Underwear. Sidearm. Toothbrush. All packed away neatly into the duffel with hard bred military precision. He picked up his combat knife, checking the edge against the meat of his thumb like he always did before a mission. But this was no routine mission, and the way his abdomen had been tied in knots ever since the test was a stark reminder of that very truth. 

Simon paused at his locker. There was a photo taped to the inside, the edges tanned and curled from years of deployment heat. TaskForce 141, grinning like idiots in the middle of the desert. Dirt-smeared and sunburnt, Gaz holding up a half-melted popsicle like it was a trophy. Simon couldn’t even remember where this photo had come from, only that they had laughed about it for days afterwards. He reached for the photo, but hesitated. His fingers hovered over the age-worn photograph, almost as if it was a livewire, something that could send a devastating shock right through his soul. 

Part of him wanted to leave it there, taped to the cool, grey metal of that locker. If he brought it, it meant he was hopeful that they would all make it to the other side. If he left it, it meant he’d already given up. 

He carefully peeled the photo down, folded it once, and tucked it into the inner pocket of the duffel bag. 

The clock on his wall read 0230. He still had thirty minutes before he was supposed to leave. 

He sat back down on the edge of his bunk. He ran a hand down his face as his head tilted up to the ceiling. The flourescent light overhead flickered once, buzzing like the drone of a half-dead insect. It was eerily similar to the hum that had filled that white testing room, too sterile and too bright, and it ricocheted against the walls of his mind. He could still feel the cold press of metal against his scalp like the fingers of a vengeful ghost. Could still hear the machine whirring on, but he couldn’t remember any of what he had seen. 

The room felt colder now. Emptier. Almost as if the test itself had stripped something away from him and tossed it into that same body bag that they had wrapped that red-headed kid in. A pang of guilt kicked Simon square in the chest. He was no stranger to death. Far from it. He had taken many lives himself, his hands had long since been stained a permanent shade of red. But this? This was different. That kid was dead now, all because some machine said he didn’t “fit”, and there was nothing Simon could’ve done to stop it. 

Drift compatibility.

He still didn’t know what it meant. But the way his stomach had been in knots since he had gotten back to his barracks told him enough. 

His fingers found the edge of his dog tags, the sturdy metal warm against his skin as he rubbed the edge of his thumb against the raised indentation of his identifying information. 

“Do not speak of this.”

The orderly’s voice echoed like it was carved into the inside of his skull. Her words had been so flat and emotionless, and had left no room for disobedience. Orders were orders. But, Simon had followed enough of them to know that the ones they told you not to speak of were always the ones that came back to bite you in the ass. 

He sighed and stood up, pacing around his room for what he knew would be the last time. He was a soldier, a transient by both past and nature, but this was the only place he had truly considered home. And now, his home was being ripped away from him all over again. His gaze flicked back to the duffel bag where the picture of him and his squad laid tucked away neatly inside of the inner pocket. 

They wouldn’t test the squad together. Too tightly knit. 

He hated how clinical it sounded, as if the bond that Simon, Soap, Gaz, and Price had forged through the blood, sweat, and loss that had been a constant in their lives was nothing more than a liability. 

He leaned down and zipped the bag shut, the sound sharp and final. He pulled a hoodie on before he slung the duffel over his shoulder. It felt heavier then it should have, considering what was inside of it, almost as if something in this room, in this base, was trying to hold him back. 

As his fingers met the cold handle of his barrack’s door, he paused. Hesitation was new to him. Then again, everything that was happening right now was new to him. Part of him wanted to say something, anything, just to remember that he was still human. But, the words didn’t come. 

Simon twisted the handle and glanced around at his room one last time, then flipped the light off behind him. 

When the door shut, it clicked louder than it should have.

[starlit-writer]

If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.

If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform

None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.

THIS GOES DOUBLY FOR ARTISTS.

[starlit-writer]

the first chapter of the tf141 x pacific rim au is done!!!!!

[starlit-writer]

TF141 x female!reader, blurbs, oral, piv, Dom/sub vibes, sub!Simon and sub!Johnny vibes, edging

The 141 being your personal sex toys when you hit your "fuck me" week in your cycle.

Doesn't matter where you're at, you've got Ghost's cock pulled out of his pants, thick and hard while you climb into his lap. Ghost lets you bite him all over, working your teeth into his muscles, down the side of his throat, mask shoved up so you can lick the panting moans out of his mouth. He's always so good for you, holding still and letting you bounce in his lap no matter how hard you bite. You praise him for it, murmuring how he's the best dildo you've ever had, lets you take what you need every time, and he comes in thick spurts when you get your teeth in his throat and grind down hard, clit rubbing against his groin, smearing slick all over his balls as you clench down, pussy fluttering around him.

Want the pleasure of a tongue? Soap is your guy. You spread your thighs and he crawls between them, panting as he nuzzles up against your cunt, teasing you with little kisses until you snarl and grip his hair, dragging him up properly, rubbing him up and down your pussy. He sets to it eagerly, humping the mattress as he eats you out, tongue plunging into your hole to slurp at you before flicking up again over your clit. He's a mess with it, face smeared with slick and creamy come, eyes rolling as you use his mohawk like a handle to hump his face. You come hardest as he shakes and groans, his own cock spilling into the mattress, grinding on his tongue as he begs for another drink.

You hunt down Kyle through the day, dragging him into closets and empty rooms, bending over at every chance to get his cock inside you. You're so worked up, so on edge already, he only needs a few minutes of pounding into your pussy before you're coming around him, slippery and dripping, his hands around your hips and moaning as you clench down, milk at his cock. Then you bump him gently back, pull up your pants, and cheekily wave bye as you leave him with a throbbing cock until you next need a fix. By the end of the night he's so pent up that he pins you down, forces you to stay until he's satisfied, slamming so hard into your cunt that you see stars, leaving you bent over with your ass out, pussy dripping, as he fixes his clothes and leaves.

When you need a good, deep, hard fuck- oh, you need Price. He doesn't let you run the show the way the lads do- he's putting you on your knees under his desk, bracketed in by thick thighs, your mouth stuffed full of his cock. You stay like that half the day, moaning and slurping as he rolls his cock over your tongue, so wet your underwear sticks to your pussy. When he finally pushes his chair back, you sag forward into his lap, big eyes all fucked out and pleading without a hand on your cunt yet. Easy enough then to lift you up onto the desk,.peel away the soaked layers of your clothes, fit his cock into your tight little hole as you moan and writhe. Hard, fast thrusts, breaking you apart over and over until you finally beg for mercy, no more, you can't come again, and then he gets his hand on your clit and makes you gush around his cock with a final convulsing orgasm.

[starlit-writer]

hold

[starlit-writer]

Ok but hear me out Simon and reader meeting on love island

a/n: lord knows I love love island

Okay but hear me out: Simon entered the villa as a bombshell and everyone is coupled up. But like, hes kinda too stand off-ish and awkward so none of the girls really like him :(.

Everyone but you, of course.

He takes the longest to pull you for a chat, but it’s not because you’re his last resort! you’re his dream girl in every way imaginable so he has to build up the courage to come talk to you! From your curves, the stretch marks he notices while your in his favorite bikini of yours (black), Sun dancing off your pretty skin, the way you move your curls off your shoulder— he’s head over shoes.

You’re more than casual at first, just letting him talk so you can go back to your partner, but you’re more than interested that he cooks for his younger siblings. How he genuinely likes walks in the parks, and playing with his dogs. It’s almost two sweet on your heart, you have to ask him what kind of food he likes to cook the best and your favorite parks to walk in.

Everyone thinks it’s just casual conversation. Simon picks another girl at first but after two more chats, hes still hung up on you. Always trying to get you to do something around the villa. Up until it’s recouple night where the girls choose. Everyone thinks your gonna go for James since you’ve still been talking to him but you’re standing around the pit, hands behind you back, heart pumping.

“This guy has caused a lot of chaos since being here, but it turns out, he’s just a sweet guy, and he opens up beautifully like a flower with time. He’s been so kind to me, fed me the best breakfast since I’ve been her, blushes so cutely— I can’t help but want to give him a chance.”

The camera cuts to James who is smiling at the ground, Simon on the other hand is neutral faced, then back to you, gorgeous as ever in a black dress.

“The guy I choose is…. Simon.”

There are gasps and wide eyes as Simon comes to your side, ears and neck red as ever when he kisses your cheek. You try your best not to contain your smile but can’t.

Everyone, even the viewers think you two are just doing it for the game. The girls try to get you to take it back before next recoupling, even talking behind your back. The guys get at Simon for “playing someone’s girl” but he ignores them. Calls them “fuckin children.” and “fucks the point ‘f bein a bomb shell if I don’t fuck a little thing up. And it’s gotta be little if I can fuck it up. He obviously didn’t fancy ‘er enough.”

But it’s the way Simon talks to you in the confessional that gets the UK to love the both of you.

“She’s a sweet girl, and she’s always encouragin’ me t’ go ‘nd talk more and that’s so not like me *laughs* but i-it feels right. Bein with her, talkin to her, kissing her. Every time I see ‘er I swear, I turn a shit color ‘f red. I hope that I’m makin her feel like I do too. We talk about everything together. I really do like her more than anythin.” And he does infact turn bright red which makes the girls at home squeal.

And the producer probably asks if he’d want to try exploring other people, “Fuck no, the other lads here- bloody hell— just stay ten feet. Me ‘nd that one are going to the ends of the earth.”

Edits start flying on every social media app, clips of you using the barley used pool, racing in the villa, Simon properly correcting your workout form, how Simon leans on you every time you’re together or the simple fact that the tattooed man can’t keep his eye off you when you’ve been away for too long.

Do you two win?

No, 2nd or 3rd place.

But you two are still the fan favorites, Simon is more reserved when it comes to your relationship and doesn’t usually post on social media— but he posts you, a few of your vacation spots, pictures of you sleeping on the couch. And you may do a live with Simon shyly sitting right next to you that fans snort up like coke. You two start a YouTube channel and it blows up but it’s more so you two cooking together, teaching each other new things and trying new things. Even have a few celebrity guests.

It’s cute, you’re the last couple from your season still standing lol. Most successful too.

a/n: I know @cameronsbabydoll had a love island post about Simon a while back! Definitely a inspo but I did my own thing. Thanks for the suggestion!!

[starlit-writer]

the feminine urge to watch x files

[starlit-writer]

I’m into some real kinky shit. Hold my hand and tell me you love me.

[starlit-writer]

...

it's being worked on!!!! i hope i'm able to do it justice 🥹

i am so thankful for all of you for your patience and encouragement, and i hope to get it posted sometime this week!

its a miracle

i watched pacific rim for the first time EVER this weekend with my fiance, and the brain worms are SQUIRMING. theres something about giant robots, monsters, and the innate intimacy of being inside someone's mind so completely is making me go feral.

soooo.... TF141 x pacifc rim fic???? hmmm??? we interested????

[starlit-writer]

Baconavacado

Hooked nose. Ghost. Hooked nose. Ghost with a hooked nose.

Simon Riley has a hooked nose.

[starlit-writer]

we are absolutely interested i LOVE pacific rim

aaaaahhhhh omg okay! i’m actually super excited about it, and i hope i can do it justice 🥹

there’s something about military men in giant robot mechs that just… it’s really tickling the brain worms, you know?

[starlit-writer]

its a miracle

i watched pacific rim for the first time EVER this weekend with my fiance, and the brain worms are SQUIRMING. theres something about giant robots, monsters, and the innate intimacy of being inside someone's mind so completely is making me go feral.

soooo.... TF141 x pacifc rim fic???? hmmm??? we interested????

[starlit-writer]

oh dear gods....

hey, everyone. i am so so so sorry for being MIA. life has been... crazy, to say the least. i have been so incredibly busy, and a lot is going on. one of my cats had to get a pretty major surgery about a month ago, so we are still dealing with the aftermath of that. i also got laid off, and i've been slogging through that as well. overall, it has not been a great time in my life lol.

but, i'm hoping to come back to this. i'm not going to force it, but i need the creative outlet. for the time being, i am not continuing anything that has been written so far. i need to start fresh, to let go of the constraints that have been holding me back. i hope you'll stick around, and, if so, i'll see you around. hopefully.

[starlit-writer]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[starlit-writer]

"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread