#if I manage to write things correctly he is in for a ride

[mi-i-zori]

An Interesting Errand

CoD Fae!AU - Soap x The Apothecary (Fem!Reader)

SYNOPSIS : The Apothecary is used to having all kinds of customers in her little shop outside the city, especially when the yearly celebrations are approaching. Humans and Fae alike, many are those who rely on her to make sure everything is ready when the time for their rituals comes. She always keeps her guard up when non-humans come to her, in case they end up trying something ; and, although their presence can make her uneasy, her wards usually give her the reassurance she needs to face them. Yet the one visiting her shop during this wintery afternoon made quite the impression - and little does she know that he took a certain interest in her. For the better, or worse.

WARNINGS : Predator behavior (Fae VS Human), fluff...

Author’s note : I took me quite a while to know exactly how to organise Soap’s meeting with the reader, but I managed ! I had to introduce his Darling in the Fae!AU before writing what I have in mind for Ghost and the Hunter. Again, inspired by @ghouljams ‘ own AU. I hope you’ll like it !

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

CoD AUs - Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Of Dried Herbs and Sunlight - Masterlist - I - II

For some reason, being around plants always seems to calm her.

Perhaps it is because her powers stem from the very magical essence they carefully hide behind their vibrant colors, she thinks, her fingers grazing the petals of a blooming peony. The sun shining through the greenhouse warms her skin, and it’s almost like spring is growing through the cracks of winter. The soft fabric of her scarf feels useless now, soon leaving her neck to find the crook of her arm. The number of small plastic pots dancing in her basket keeps increasing. A part of her wonders which corner of her garden will be their home.

It takes her a moment to tear her attention away from the long series of shelves filled with tempting greenery. Her shop and house are already bursting with all sorts of plants, both used for magic and decoration ; she wouldn’t want them to feel overwhelmed when they already have to grow around the products lining her many tables. She still grabs a tiny succulent before darting towards the main counter, the magic subtly swirling behind her giving away the happiness of her thoughts.

The few people waiting to be checked out barely offer her a glance as she enters the queue. To pass the time, she finds herself focusing her gaze on the dust particles floating in front of the entrance windows ; they sometimes wander far enough to be caught on the leaves decorating the wooden door of the little flower shop, taking a break before a passing customer gives them the opportunity to start flying again. Sometimes, a small wind chime sings. Among the flowery display laying behind the closest window, a tabby cat basks in the sun, purring in delight as a child looses his hand in the softness of its fur.

- If it isn’t my dear Apothecary ! It’s been a while !

The owner of the shop greets her with a smile as she drops her heavy basket on top of the counter. She offers him a small wave before unloading it, the old man immediately gathering her purchases in a few paper bags. His face lits up as she silently holds out a few bills to pay, as if suddenly remembering something.

- Also ! Your order is ready. Let me get it for you.

Despite his age, it doesn’t take him long to bring her package. The wonderful scent of dried herbs fills her senses, her mind already focused on the way each little bouquet will look in her shop and kitchen. She thanks him with a dazzling smile as she loads everything into her woven basket, the man offering her one last blessing before she exits his shop.

The trip to her little cottage outside of the city isn’t as long as one might think, yet it still feels like it. She can’t hold back a deep sigh of relief from swirling past her lips as she finally steps into her home, its magic resonating with hers with a delighted trill. She is quick to settle her shopping bags on the table of the living room, her coat finding a temporary place on her couch. She joins it not long after unloading all her groceries, her sore muscles begging for a break. A weary glance is lazily thrown at the little plants she bought, and, in her mind, she promises them to take care of them later. For now, she just needs a moment to rest.

She only realises she fell asleep when the alarm she set on her phone starts ringing for the third time in a row. The sun has started its afternoon walk, bathing her house in a warm, wintery glow. It greets her with a blinding kiss as she sits up, groaning as she tries to reach for the device buzzing in a pocket of her coat. With Yule approaching, she finds it difficult to balance her preparations, her sleep schedule and her work. She has received many orders from witches and common folks alike, and she needs to finish them quickly if she wants to be on time for the major rituals of winter.

The young woman pats her face as she opens the door connecting the house and the shop. She immediately starts pulling out the list of items she needs, although not without letting out a sigh. She then starts gathering her supplies, barely remembering to put on her favourite playlist of the week. Her hips gently sway along the first melody, and she can’t restrain her smile as the usual cosy atmosphere of her shop is finally complete. She doesn’t even need to light a scented candle ; the batch of dried herbs she just added to her collection has already filled the air with its own natural fragrance.

An hour has already passed when the door opens, the quiet sound causing her to lift her head from her work for the first time. She doesn’t even have the time to see her customer that a silent echo dances in her mind, her wards warning her about the non-human that has just crossed their threshold. Despite the powerful magic emanating from the man, she doesn’t let a single shiver run down her spine, instead opting to offer him her usual peaceful smile. She also tries to ignore the way her stomach twists when he comes up to lean against the counter, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

The unsettling twinkle in his eyes is barely hidden by his own greeting.

- Hello there, he simply says, a strong scottish accent coating his words. I’m here to pick up my friend’s order. From Gaz ?

She nods, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. She doesn’t really need to check the number of said order ; she has no trouble remembering « Gaz »’s voice as he listed the items he would need over the phone, as well as the barely hidden amusement in his tone when he told her about the one who would be picking everything up the very next week. Her instincts had her renew the protections of her shop, just in case. And as she goes to fetch the package, the fae’s heavy gaze lingering on her back, she knows doing it was a wise decision.

As he is waiting for her to come back, the man finds himself entranced by the magical energy dancing in every corner of the shop, its source being none other than the owner herself. Every single one of his senses is awakened by the details surrounding him. His fingers drum on the wooden counter, following the rhythm of the jazzy music coming from a tiny speaker on a table. His eyes lazily follow the line of items standing in front of him. The sun shines gently through the windows, its orange glow warming up the skin hiding under his sweater. Despite the cottage being quite close to its borders, right now, his frozen homeland seems quite far.

It seems this place has its own set of rules, he thinks, the kind that even the seasons have to follow.

- Quite the cozy little shop ya got ‘ere, he says, his bright blue eyes immediately falling upon her form the moment she reappears, the package held snug against her chest.

She thanks him with a quiet hum, and he finds himself entertained by her shy behaviour. Even if the protective magic dancing around her tells him she knows more about him than she might let on, he can’t help but being attracted to the danger she could represent ; the challenge she could prove herself to be. Gaz was definitely right when he said this errand would be worth his time.

- I might just come back to get somethin’ for myself.

If she felt the way his magic gently poked at her through her wards, she didn’t show it. She quickly types away on her computer, smiling politely once again when their eyes meet. A grin slowly carves itself on his lips as she finally hands him his friend’s order, not bothering to hide the sharp edges of his teeth anymore. She obviously already knows of his nature, after all.

It’s been a while since he crossed paths with such an interesting human.

And, suddenly, he is starving.

[screamingintotheneverendingvoid]

Contamination Spice xx

John Carter x nurse!reader

Summary: Seeing John take control of the ER has you feeling some sort of way.

Warnings: 18+ pls SMUT AHEAD!!! It might be my first time writing it, so it might not be great but it’s still smut!! PiV (no protection, please make smart choices in reality) grinding, making out, unrealistic car sex but hey we’re here to have fun, clit play, reader has a vagina/clit, riding, it’s a quickie but took me way too long to write.

A/N: This is my first dive into smut, I don’t know if it came out exactly as I wanted because I got a little nervous, I kind of want to make a part 2, but we’ll see how this does first. 😅 Anyway, it’s based around season 4, episode 15 because damn Carter, please take charge all the time.

-

You had just finished giving report to the next nurses to come in, or at least you all tried to, with the best of your ability in all of the chaos that still persisted from the night.

People were still trying to get things to ‘normal’ for the ER after the spill, and you honestly would’ve stayed longer to help, but you wanted to get home, shower, and crash.

… At least that’s what you told everyone, and sure, you did want to do that, but you couldn’t tell them that your skin was still buzzing with the images in your mind you had to push aside to do your job all night. Images of your boyfriend in the chaos of the night standing tall and taking charge without a second thought. He just did it. Not only did pride bloom in your chest as his partner for seeing the amazing job he did without protocols to follow, all the supplies he needed, and in less than perfect circumstances all around but seeing him seem to take charge so easily and running around person to person, helping anywhere and everywhere he could… it made you feel something you shouldn’t have felt in the middle of everything happening.

The flush of your face was the only thing that might have gave you away, but it could easily be explained away by the rush of the situation or at least that’s what you told yourself. Either way you decided to push those thoughts away at the time, but now they had time to burst free and run wild. So the sooner you could find John and get out of here, the better.

You let your eyes scan the parts of the ER you could see from where you stood before you started moving forward to the front desk, Jerry and a few others moving around it trying to find some sort of organization in the chaos it had became during the crisis. You walked over and leaned on the closest edge, “Jerry, have you seen John? It’s time for us to get off but I figured he must still be off helping somewhere…”

Jerry looked up from the stack of binders he was looking through, “Last I saw him he was in the doctor's lounge.”

You quickly nodded your thanks before heading off. That was a good sign, maybe he was ready to go and you wouldn’t be stuck having to take the train to his place and being in what felt like a form of torture until he got home.

You walked the few feet it took to get to the lounge and pushed the door open, being greeted by the back of your boyfriend.

Thank you universe.

He turned at hearing the door open and smiled the way he only did for you. You weren’t sure you could pinpoint what made it special to only you and no one else, maybe the fact you could tell that even though he was tired, and life hadn't exactly been easy for him lately, he still managed to reserve that little smile for you. You didn’t take a second of it for granted.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” He said grabbing your jacket out of the locker first, you walked over to him and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, and turned around so he could help you into your jacket.

“Yes, please. I thought I might have to drag you from this place.” You said it jokingly but you both knew it had happened before and was bound to happen again. He gently turned you back around to make sure your jacket was adjusted correctly before leaning in to touch your lips against his. You eagerly jumped at the opportunity to be closer to him, your hands immediately grabbing a hold of his shoulders to pull him closer, his hands found their way under your coat to your waist. You moved your lips to make the kiss deeper but he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help your frustrated groan, which just caused a smug expression to cross his lips, “Now what is that all about, hmm?” As he said it, you playfully whacked at his shoulder. “You did an amazing job today and I just think someone should show you some appreciation is that such a bad thing?” You tried to put on your most innocent of acts as you said it, knowing you meant it in no such way.

“No, no… I mean..” He started trying to stutter out but you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him on the lips before kissing his cheek, and then his jaw, and then his earlobe, “So put your coat on and hand me my bag, and grab yours, so we can get out of here and I can show my boyfriend just how appreciated he is.” You purred in his ear before teasingly pulling yourself out of where he still held you by the waist.

You felt pretty damn accomplished at how dumbfounded he looked at first before a goofy grin took over his face and he almost cartoonishly fast grabbed his jacket to put on over the scrubs he was still wearing after having to throw out his clothes earlier. He lifted his bag on to one shoulder and then slid yours over top of his, slamming the locker door shut, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket. He was by your side again in seconds and threw his free arm over your shoulder, “Please, let’s get out of here.”

—-

The walk to John’s jeep, while uneventful, felt like it took hours. You would glance over at John and just his beautiful profile in the night, the way his nose was outlined by the moonlight and his freckles put the stars to shame, was driving you absolutely nuts.

Once you got to the jeep, he unlocked the doors, went to your side to open your door for you, you pecked his cheek sweetly as you got in and he shut the door behind you. Then he opened the driver door, threw the bags in the backseat and got in.

You don’t think he was ready for what happened next. No, you know he wasn’t ready.

As soon as his door was shut, you more or less launched yourself at him, and it was his turn to let out a surprised yelp. You had intended to kiss him, but the sound he made caused you to burst out into laughter instead.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to scare you, but if I don’t kiss you right now I might exploded and that’s a medical diagnosis, you can look it up.” You know your words were cheesy but they had the intended effect in one, causing John to look at you like you might have two heads, and two, caused him to laugh. Which was really what you lived for, you truly believed that sound could cure anything. Someone should look into.

“I don’t remember learning that in medical school. Maybe it was just a nursing school thing?” He teased as he wrapped one arm around your waist pulling you fully into his lap, not the most comfortable in a car, but you could honestly careless right now as long as you were close to him. He laid his hand on your cheek, his fingers gently following the curve caressing the skin there.

He seemed to get very serious for a moment, those brown eyes you loved more than anything in the world just studied your features as if committing every detail to memory, “You are breathtaking.”

He whispered the words as he moved closer, savoring the moment until your lips touched again.

Your skin felt like it was buzzing all over again, or maybe it never really left, as you felt his tongue dancing over your lips and you happily granted it access. You had scrunched his green scrub top under one of your hands, your other hand already having a mind of its own, wandering to the edge of his top and ghosting your fingers at the soft skin of his abdomen. The inhale of breath he took at even the smallest of your touches gave you a satisfaction unlike any other. You broke away from his lips to drag your lips across his cheek, down to his jaw, down to his neck. Letting your hand wander a trail over his chest, then back down to his stomach carefully skating around where his pants started, you listened as his breathing would change and become a little heavier every time you would dip your hand a little lower. You started nipping at the skin at his neck, grinning against his skin as he groaned, “You’re just teasing me… why don’t you get in your seat so we can get to my apartment faster?” He said it while moving a hand on to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to rise where he touched, he only half heartedly attempted to remove you from your place on his neck.

“Who said we have to go to your apartment? Are you afraid of being caught in the parking deck? Doesn’t that make it a little more exciting.” You teased against his skin, and you know it had to be exciting to him to some extent because the scrub pants he was wearing did little to hide how hard and exciting this was.

You heard John sigh in ‘defeat’ as he seemed to finally have the idea to lean over and recline his seat back to make some room for the two of you. Honestly with how tall he was, you weren’t sure climbing in the backseat would be a better option at this point anyway, this jeep only had so much room.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming this entirely on you seducing me, I hope you know.” You heard the smile in his voice, but just happy he agreed you brought your face back up to his and crashed your lips back together, just taking a moment to cherish him. His taste, which right now was a little soapy with whatever they had hosed everyone down with during decontamination, but still very much him.

Now reclined you settled as best as you could with you knees on either side of his hips, not caring that clothing was still between you, you let your hips drop down on his and started a gentle rhythm grinding against him. Taking pride in the almost immediate moan you elicited from John, his hands flying to grip onto your hips.

“We’ll hurry, no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” You playfully whispered against his lips, letting your hands fall between the two of you, to quickly untie his scrub bottoms. You lifted your hips up for just a moment to be up to yank his bottoms down enough to free his cock. Awkwardly shifting around, relying on John’s help to get out of your own scrub pants and underwear, you let out a huff of frustration. Now realizing the thought of car sex was much smoother than the actual execution.

He must’ve thought your frustration was cute because he laughed as he left your pants a tangled mess at your ankles, now focused far more at looking at your face.

“Maybe it’s your head we should be worrying about, not mine?” His voice was now barely above a whisper, as those brown eyes bore into your soul, capturing every detail of you. You leaned back to prop yourself on his thighs, and leave a little room between you. “Maybe.” You shrugged as you took one of his hands that had found their way back to your waist and brung it up to your mouth, kissing along his wrist, following one of the veins and kissed along it until you got to the back of his hand. Then let yourself gently plant a kiss along each of his fingers. You didn’t let your eyes leave his for a second, and his attention was still all on you. His breath heaving, and you could audibly hear him swallow. You kissed your way back to his pointer finger before you took it into your mouth. He let out a deep groan as his head fell back against the seat. You let your tongue playfully swirl around it before letting it go with a pop.

You stalled for just a second while you debated what to do next, you wanted his fingers inside you but you didn’t really have the time. Quickies were fun but inconvenient, but you could continue your fun at home, because no way would this be nearly enough of him for you.

You leaned towards him in the reclined seat letting your entrance tease against his dick, causing you both to let out moans. John lifted his head up from the seat, hands bruising in their grip on your hips, as he let his lips find their way to your neck. “Please, baby…” he mumbled softly against your skin.

You knew you were plenty wet enough and just torturing you both at this point, so you reached down between you and made sure he was lined up with your entrance, and then you slid down onto him, the feeling as delicious as it had been the first time you had ever done it.

The ‘fuck’ John let out from his place against your neck was rewarding, he even bit down softly on the skin he was lavishing, and then began to suck a mark there.

Your moans were music to his ears as you started moving on top of him, setting a fast rhythm, that his hands seemed happy to help you keep.

You let your eyes fall closed as sensations quickly started taking over you, one of your hands gripped John’s shoulder tightly for support, the other stayed glued into his short locks, holding onto them to keep him as close to you as possible. You felt your orgasm close at hand, and you started to move your hand from John’s shoulder, but he stopped you, “May I?” He asked, never moving away from his place at your neck, he was addicted to it tonight it seemed. “Of course.”

He moved one hand from your waist to in between your bodies, and between your legs, and his fingers found your clit. As soon as he did you swore you almost saw stars.

He knew your body better than he knew any medical school text book and he would happily use that to his advantage anytime.

He kept up the motion around your clit, and you heard his breathing becoming heavier, almost in time with yours, “I’m about to-“ “Me too.” It was all the exchange you needed, he finally came up from his place at your neck, and found his way to your lips again, and when you came, his name was on your lips but it was muffled against his own. You felt him come moments after you, as you kept riding him through both your highs.

You both stilled and tried to catch your breath. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as he soothingly ran his hands across your back.

“Are you okay?” He softly asked.

“Of course, baby. Thank you for indulging me.” You planted a small kiss on his neck before lifting your face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. His sweet smile soothing to your entire soul.

“Good. Now I hate to interrupt our afterglow… but we should probably put on our pants and get back to my place.”

—-

tag : @omgbrianab

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 13

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: descriptions of and talk about sa!!

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 13/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

It keeps raining, and two hours later when it’s hitting the roof in a calm rhythm, you enter the garage through the open door. Rock music sounds from a speaker but it’s overshadowed by the powerful hits of Jeongguk’s gloved hands against the sandbag hanging from the mount. He’s foregone a shirt, his sweat-covered muscles glistening.

“You call that ‘taking it easy?’” you call out, notifying him of your presence.

He stops his punches, turning to face you with his hand steadying the bag.

“Huh?” he questions, chest heaving.

“I said: ‘you call that taking it easy?’”

He smiles, very out of breath. “I didn’t say ‘easy,’ just easier than what I’m used to.”

You shake your head, venturing further into the garage and reaching the bike.

“How do you even get on this thing? It’s so tall?” you wonder skeptically out loud as you trace the black leather seat with your fingers. It’s definitely a lot taller and wider than just an ordinary bicycle.

Jeongguk steps away from the sandbag, loosening the gloves with his teeth as he heads your way, heavy breaths echoing. You follow him with your eyes as he approaches, but instead of demonstrating like you thought he would, he stops behind you.

“Here,” he places his hands under your armpits.

“Oh, no, no, no,” you try to protest, but it’s too late, and you’re already being lifted onto the seat like a three-year-old.

You definitely also feel like a three-year-old because you don’t even try to reach for the handlebars, instead holding onto the little hill in front of the seat. It probably goes without saying that your feet don’t wholly touch the ground.

“We could go for a ride someday if you want?”

You turn your head to look at his grinning face.

“Uh... no.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

You see the realization of what he just asked flash across his face, but you know it wasn’t how he meant it.

“You don’t seem to value your life very much, no,” you argue, hinting at how he almost died for you.

His face turns relieved, a small smile decorating his lips. “I do. But sometimes, there might be risks I’m willing to take.”

It’s your turn to not know exactly what to say, so you're quick to ask something else instead. You lean forward, actually managing to grab the handlebars somewhat correctly. “Do I look cool?”

Jeongguk’s smile widens, “Absolutely. Even more so if you had the appropriate gear.”

“So… highway patrol? Car or one of these things?”

“One of these things,” he chuckles. “It was exciting, especially car chases really got your blood pumping. Although I think my mom was in a constant state of a heart attack. And the chases didn’t happen that often; most of the time, it was just writing tickets, and I wanted to make more of a difference.”

“Understandable. Your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. Also, who told you?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“Jimin. He told me absolutely everything there is to know about you. All your secrets.”

“Nice try; I don’t have any secrets.”

You wonder to yourself how true that really is.

You’ve managed to keep your mind busy and occupied during the day, but when night time rolls around and the rain has only increased, you’re feeling a little anxious.

Standing outside the door to your room and staring at the handle, you don’t notice Jeongguk.

“You know, I don’t mind you sleeping with me.”

You lift your head, meeting his eyes. He’s shirtless again, looking as if he just came from the kitchen. Should you? Last night was very cozy, and if you're being honest with yourself, you liked it a lot. Probably more than you should. You felt… safer.

You hesitate.

“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave the door open.”

He prepares to leave, but you’re quick to make up your mind.

“No, I, um… I’ll just go and change, first?”

Giving you a soft nod, he leaves for his bedroom.

It takes you five minutes to change into a large t-shirt and some shorts and to wash up, and when you enter through the open door, closing it behind you, Jeongguk is folding a pair of pants to hang over a chair. You won’t pretend that you don’t let your eyes quickly skim over his shirtless body as he moves, your heart skipping a beat or maybe two.

“Is that the ring you wore during the mission?” you ask, watching him turn, first to face you and then to look at the object in question on his nightstand.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He shrugs as he approaches the other side of the bed, the same side he slept on yesterday. “I don’t know. I wore it, then the hospital put it in one of those bags with my other belongings while they took me into surgery. Took the whole bag home, put the ring there. Didn’t wear it because… well, we’re not married, but I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

“Hm, okay,” you accept what sounds like a reasonable explanation.

Jeongguk lifts the duvet, getting into the bed while watching you. “You didn’t keep yours?”

“Don’t know what happened to it, but it was fake and pretty much worthless, so…”

“Ouch,” Jeongguk says, clutching his chest.

“Okay, first of all, you just said we weren’t married. And there was no material worth to it. Second, your heart is on the other side.”

Smoothly–and definitely making you giggle while you follow his lead and get into bed–he switches hands to hold the right side of his chest instead. You guess it’s a learning curve.

“Ouch,” he repeats, “Just tell me if you want a divorce.”

It’s with a big smile that you get comfortable, pulling the white duvet up to your chin as you lay on your side, facing the nightstand.

You feel Jeongguk move around a bit too.

“I think the rain’s gonna let up tomorrow,” he mumbles. “It’s been a while since it was this… persistent.”

“Yeah… Thank you for letting me sleep here. It feels… better to not be alone.”

“It’s no problem; I don’t mind.”

Silence falls after that. You listen to the rhythmic beat of raindrops hitting the roof, trying to slow your breaths and heartbeat enough to fall asleep. Although you don’t feel as anxious anymore, it still doesn’t happen. 

Minute by minute ticks by, and you don’t know if Jeongguk is asleep or not.

“It was raining,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “That night when we followed a suspect into a hotel bar.”

You take a breath, listening to the silence of the room, half expecting Jeongguk to stop you. But he doesn’t; maybe because he’s asleep? So you continue quietly, revisiting a memory.

“He stayed there for quite a few hours, so we did as well. We were hoping he’d lead us to his brother so we could arrest both of them for arms trafficking. Hoseong ordered us beer, more so for appearances, but still, and we talked while we kept an eye on the man and waited for him to leave. I remember that we talked about another case we’d just solved, and Hoseong was going on and on about how smart he thought I was and how glad he was to have me as his partner. I was smiling ear to ear, thinking that I was so incredibly lucky, getting to work with and learn from someone who truly saw me. When the suspect instead got a room there for the night, we did as well, figuring it would be more comfortable than sitting in the car all night.”

It’s still quiet, but it feels cathartic to get it out, regardless if Jeongguk is awake to hear it or not. While you've unfortunately noticed more similarities between him and Hoseong than you'd like--like their dark, expressive eyes--Jeongguk feels... different.

“We were meant to do shifts, always have the door open just a sliver so we’d notice if he left. We took our jackets off and Hoseong placed his stuff on the bedside table. Since it was summer, I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt with my gun strapped to my thigh under it, and so I put the gun in the pocket of my jacket. When I turned around… he kissed me. I was caught by surprise, but I… I kissed him back at first because… Well, I loved him. But then I tried to step back to tell him that we really shouldn’t, that we needed to be alert and ready to follow if the suspect left. But he didn’t listen.”

You pause, feeling the pain and the fear from that day all over again, your skin turning cold. There’s movement behind you, and an arm is slowly and gently draped across your middle, grasping your freezing hand. It makes you feel something, peering down at his hand and the tattoos covering his skin. He’s very warm, and he feels like he’s… stable. Like he has roots growing into the ground that makes him unshakeable. Meanwhile, you’re a leaf; at the mercy of everyone and everything. Easy to blow away, to rip to shreds, to stomp flat to the sound of your bones crunching.

“He held my jaw so tight, I couldn’t speak, and he told me that I’d been teasing him all day in the skirt and that I should be happy because he knew that I loved him. Said I should just suck it up and put out. He… ” you go quiet, unsure of how many details you’re willing to relive. 

Does Jeongguk need to know every step you were pushed toward the bed, how he threw you onto it and got on top of you while you fought? How he unzipped his pants and how he violated you? He probably doesn’t.

“He used his handcuffs and cuffed my hands around the metal bed frame. I tried to…. He said he’d kill me if I screamed.” You remember his hushed yet furious voice in your ear, remember knowing how it was going to end, how he’d kill you right then and there.

“I don’t know if he did it at first because he enjoyed it or if he realized right away that he would need to get rid of me, but he put both his hands around my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. I pulled my hands so violently that I dislocated a thumb, but… I got one out. So I tried to stop him, but he was too strong, using all his body weight. My nails on his skin didn’t faze him, and I was losing consciousness. At the very last second–while my vision was turning spotty–I managed to grab the gun from his holster. I aimed it for his thigh and pulled the trigger. He let go. Somehow, I managed to get him off me, and… out of me… but I could barely see or breathe, and there was blood everywhere.

“He swore at me, and I think he tried to get up but couldn’t, so he reached for his phone, and I ran for the door as best I could. But what was I supposed to do? Call the cops? What do you think he was doing? I heard him ask our coworkers for help, and I knew. They were coming to help him. So I stood there, in the hall of a shitty hotel, with no car keys, no phone, and nowhere to go, while his back-up was mere minutes away.

“Then, someone down the hall opened their door. It was a young woman, and she peeked out, looked at me where I stood, a shaky, bloody, wheezy mess, and she came and pulled me inside right before the police exited the elevator. I managed to say that we were all law enforcement, but I didn’t need to tell her that they’d kill me off if they found me because we heard Ryung’s voice through the door, telling the rest to find me and make me… pay.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as I was when they knocked on her door. She gestured for me to get inside the bathroom, and I did, watching as she pulled a bathrobe around her body, turning most of the lights off and opening the door to pretend like she’d just woken up. I heard them ask for me, and I heard her politely tell them that no, she hadn’t seen a woman or noticed any commotion. But I saw how her hand trembled behind the door, and I thought the whole time that they knew and were just waiting to push their way inside to get me. But they didn’t. Instead, they left. Shaken, she sat with me on the bathroom floor as I cried, and she helped me clean up a bit and loaned me some of her clothes before she helped me to the hospital across the city border. I stayed the night to have my injuries tended to and documented and a kit done, and the next day, I went to that city’s station to file a report. A female officer helped me, and she’s the only one I’ve told most of this stuff to. Well, except for you now, but I take it you read the report? And the station… you weren’t working that day, but it was your station, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” comes a strained mumble, and you feel him hug you just a bit tighter.

You stare at the wall, feeling both anxious and numb. “It changes you, having someone do that to you. All my life, I’ve known, theoretically speaking, that there’s a risk. A man, anywho, anywhere, anytime, can decide that I don’t get to live anymore. But to experience it, to see the intentions in his eyes, and how he’s… deciding… and not being able to do anything about it. It changes you. It’s always there, the feeling of helplessness.” “I…” Sounding like he wants to say something but can’t find the words, Jeongguk lets silence fall again. 

“You don’t know what to say, do you?” you smile a sad smile to yourself. “No.” “It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything, I just thought I’d tell you.”

You feel him move closer while also gently pulling you back toward him. You roll back, finding yourself inches away from him where he lies, head supported by his hand and looking down at you. “I’m just… furious, and frustrated, and I wish so badly that I’d been there to help you. If I had just transferred earlier… maybe I could’ve prevented it, or stopped it, or even just caught him and helped you get your justice. Instead, I came along and made it worse.”

You find yourself so lost in him. In the warmth of his body that’s thawing the entirety of yours, and in his kind brown eyes. You can’t believe he’s the same person who took every chance he could to hurt you as recently as a few months ago. He just… looks so sweet.

“You know, you look like a little kid when you’re sleeping” you smile, watching Jeongguk slowly open his eyes, looking a little confused. “You’re also always up before me, so I’ve rarely seen you asleep. I’m not really a morning person.”

The moment he comes to properly, he smiles lazily and rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “I’m not a morning person either, actually,” he explains, his voice lower and raspier than usual.

“Then why are you always awake so early?”

He looks at you as if he’s not sure what to say. “Cause… I have… stuff to do?”

“Okay…”

Jeongguk doesn’t address the suspicion in your voice, instead, he stretches his arms over his head. The duvet moves, exposing his chest and the scar to your eyes.

Letting your fingertip hover just above it, you look back at his still very sleepy face. “Did you really never know about your organs being mirrored?”

“No,” he yawns. 

“But… how? Didn’t you ever have your heart and lungs listened to?”

“I did, but apparently, it’s not too much of a different sound. Sure, my heart beat would have sounded a bit fainter from my left side but it’s such a rare condition that there was no real use investigating further. I had a heart that beat in the right rhythm and no other symptoms so that was enough, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Can I listen?” you bite your lip hopefully.

He raises his eyebrows, “To my heart?”

You nod enthusiastically

“Buy me dinner first, why don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you feel warm. You meet his gaze and slowly lower your head to his chest while moving your hair out of your face.

His skin feels nice against the side of your face, his chest moving up and down under you slowly, and you hear it. It’s strong, rhythmic, but…

“Are you sure you’re fine, though?” you ask, turning a little more serious, “It’s beating kinda… fast?”

Surely a fit guy like Jeongguk has a slower resting heart rate? 

“You’re also, you know, listening to my heart,” he says, like it’s supposed to mean something?

Wait. Is he… Is he implying that you listening to his heart is making it race? That can’t be true, can it?

You lift your face off of his chest, and for a moment, you’re just looking at each other softly, curiously. His black hair is a little messy, but he looks so warm, and you–.

His phone rings.

Jeongguk sighs but reaches for it where it lies on his nightstand, his eyes widening when he reads the screen. “Shit, I gotta take this.”

He throws the duvet off of him and gets up as he answers the call, and you see him in just his shorts as he disappears out of the room with the phone to his ear.

Following his lead, you rise from the bed, but instead of going wherever Jeongguk disappeared to, you head into your room to throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. While alone, you take a moment to think about last night. You weren’t actually planning on talking about it. You never have, not in that much detail, although you definitely left some things out. And while it feels… hard, it also feels… better? Or, like you’re at least not too scared of him looking at you weirdly or saying it was your fault. Or even worse, like you opened his eyes how easy it was to render you entirely helpless…

Quietly, you enter the kitchen, spotting Jeongguk standing at the counter with the tray of cupcakes you made together in front of him. He’s wearing a dark green t-shirt now.

He places the phone between his raised shoulder and ear as he peels a wrapper off, “can you ask them to mail copies of the documents to the station? And how did it go, did you manage to reach the mechanic?”

You watch him as he listens to whoever’s on the other side, putting half a cupcake in his mouth. “Mhm, no, no, just book whatever time she’s available. We can meet at the station if she wants to come in or I can go to her. Same for the hotel staff.” 

Is he… looking into your case again? Like, thoroughly following up on all leads and with all possible witnesses? You definitely know it’s not because of what you told him last night; he must’ve decided to do it priorly.

His eyes find you as he listens intently to what the voice has to say. You take a few steps, coming to stand next to him, smiling softly at how cute he looks when he’s multitasking. With one hand, he lifts the other end of the cupcake to you. You take it, watching him as he looks off into the distance absentmindedly. “Alright, thank you.”

You pop the piece into your mouth, chewing it while making a note to definitely bake more.

He ends the call and puts the phone down on the counter. “These are actually really good,” he says, putting his frosting-covered fingertip to his mouth.

You smile, admiring him and all he’s done and is doing for you. A little overcome with emotions, you place your hand on his shirt, pulling it down slowly at the collar and him toward you. He looks curious, but you focus on his lips. Biting your own, you try not to let the fear of rejection win, and you stand on your toes, and you kiss him carefully.

It’s brief, and it’s sweet, and you can’t help but smile when your heels touch the floor again.

“Thank you.”

He blinks, looking happy but surprised.

“What?” you chuckle a little nervously when he doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing. I just… wasn’t sure you actually liked me. Like, at all.”

You tilt your head, listening to him as he continues.

“I know that we kissed that time on the hammock, but we probably weren’t on the same page then, were we? Cause I thought we were, that we were alone and that we had something, but you… you played along because there were people watching, right? You were still acting while I wasn’t.”

You haven’t thought a lot about that moment, embarrassed about what happened and how you reacted, but he’s right. You were acting. You weren’t sure he was, but if he really wasn’t… What were his motives that night?

“Yeah, but you kinda literally took a sword to the heart for me later, and you’ve been really, really kind and sweet to me ever since.”

He grabs another cupcake, chewing a piece of it with a look on his face that tells you he’s… planning something. You wait, expecting him to say something but he just smiles and lifts the other piece to your mouth. Before you can even decide whether to take a bite or not, he nudges the cupcake against your mouth, getting streaks of frosting across your lips.

“What the…”

But he grins, puts the cupcake down, and smiles in a way that lets you know this was exactly what he wanted. Putting his fingers under your chin to lift your head, he leans down to kiss you. You hold your breath, feeling his soft lips against yours again.

He tastes of frosting and racing heart beats, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are warmer than usual.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

And you feel warm, almost ecstatic, but also like you’ve… forgotten something.

The day after, Jeongguk receives a call that has him hurriedly looking through the house for the keys to his bike, rushing off somewhere after telling you that he’ll probably be back in a few hours. ‘A few hours’ is too vague to really tell you anything, and you’re so used to not asking questions that you don’t think to.

While he’s gone, you decide to start the dishwasher, and you’ve come to learn that Jeongguk always has at least one mug in his office that he’ll keep refilling with coffee way too many times without washing.

Approaching the office, you’re not surprised to see the door to it ajar. It’s rarely closed, and it’s almost like it signifies the transparency between you. Jeongguk doesn’t say much about the case, but it’s not because you can’t know; it’s because he knows you don’t want to know. 

Or didn’t want to know. As you’re standing in the quiet room, his blue mug in your hand, you see a disheveled stack of papers. Usually, you would’ve walked past it, or maybe even re-stacked it neatly before walking past it. 

This time, Hoseong’s name catches your eye. Of course, it’s not weird considering it’s Jeongguk’s main case, but you still find yourself staring at the printed letters. 

Three hours after he left, Jeongguk unlocks his front door, opening it and stepping inside. He sighs at how the people he despises most on the planet always just seem to slip out of his grasp. But when inside, he finds himself easily letting go of that thought and instead thinking about something that has him smiling to himself.

With his shoes and jacket off, he begins his search, expecting to find you either in the living room or your bedroom and getting confused when you aren’t. He peers inside the kitchen and even puts his head into his own bedroom, almost starting to get worried when you’re nowhere to be seen.

He’s about to visit the second bathroom when he passes his office, seeing movement from within the small sliver in the doorway.

“There you are,” he comments happily as he opens the door wider, looking around and taking a moment to process what he’s seeing. “I almost thought you’d evaporated.”

You look up from the floor, where you’re sitting with a bunch of papers spread out in front of you, Jeongguk’s empty cup beside you.

“These are the ones you’re observing?” you ask, lifting a paper toward him, a pen wedged between your index and middle finger.

He takes it from you, quickly reading a summary of months of hard work. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” you say, looking at another paper in your hand, twirling the pen absentmindedly in your other, “I think I have some suggestions.”

After spending hours and hours with Jeongguk, having him explain the progress they’ve made and who they’re investigating, you take a step back to look at the post-its on the living room wall. It has all the fugitives’ relatives, their friends, coworkers, neighbors…. everyone. Since neither of the four men have used their card nor phone, they must’ve almost certainly gotten help, but from who?

You sink down onto the soft cushions of Jeongguk’s couch with a tired sigh, reaching for the remote and smiling when there’s a rerun of a zombie movie.

Jeongguk follows your lead, spreading out as well. “You wanna like… hold hands or something? Cause I could do with a good hand-holding.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, feeling your chest warm from the inside. It’s so easy for him to make you all giddy, forgetting about all of your pains and worries. Or almost all of them, at least.

Still, you nod, and your smile grows when he scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his warm one.

Even as he directs his focus toward the TV, you keep yours on him. On his tired yet still bright, dark eyes, his nose, the faint hollowness under his cheekbones, and his mouth. His hair is just calling out for you to run your fingers through, but you stand your ground, settling for getting to hold his hand. 

“What?” he asks, smiling cheekily at you.

“You asked to hold my hand?” you remind, moving his hand between the two of yours, tracing the veins on the back of it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s cute. You buy flowers and hold hands and open doors.”

Surely, a guy like him can’t exist, right?

“I do. Which reminds me, you were just giving my flowers away?”

He looks at you, faking hurt. Slowly, and with your heart beating hard to nourish the butterflies growing in your stomach, you intertwine your fingers with his. “I didn’t know they were from you; there was never a card or anything.”

“Fine.”

Seemingly accepting your short answer, Jeongguk watches the movie with you for a while in silence, your head coming to rest against the top of his arm. You keep his hand between yours, trying to stay cool despite how being this close to him affects you. There are definitely some sort of butterflies.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about as well?” he mumbles quietly after a while.

“No?”

“At the barbeque, the guy that you were talking to? Who was that? And what did he say?”

You search your mind for a second before it comes back to you; the tall, handsome man who approached you. “I don’t know. He said his name was Haneul, but I don’t think he lived there. I think I heard something about someone having their cousin over or something like that, so I think that was him. Don’t think I saw him again.”

“And what did he say to you? You didn’t look…. very happy.”

You recall the way he felt… off and how he wasted absolutely no time, insulting your husband and offering to take his place. You definitely remember the unfunny feeling of actually wanting to have a rude Jeongguk around just to keep Haneul away.

“Uh, he hit on me.”

“Did you say you were married?”

You scoff. “Yeah, but he didn’t seem to mind. Basically accused you of lacking in bed and offering to take your place in secret.”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, sounding surprised. “He didn’t look that ballsy to me?”

“It was before he saw how intimidating you are.”

“I’m glad it seemed like I scared him off then. If he was bothering you?”

“Yeah…”

“So why didn’t you tell me? When I asked about him? I would’ve kept an even closer eye on you.”

That, you don’t have to search your mind for. You remember very clearly how scared you were that Jeongguk would laugh. Or that he wouldn’t even believe you because after all, why would anyone hit on someone like you? Especially a man who looked like Haneul because creep or not, he was handsome. Like so often, you fill with shame. Embarrassment for who you are and how you look. It’s been surprisingly easy to not focus as much on it, but it will always be at the back of your mind, and this is just a painful reminder.

“I… didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He squeezes your hand, and you hear and feel him sigh sadly. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you and for being such an overall disappointment. I want to think that I sensed that you were scared and that’s why I kept an eye on you after and asked you about it. But I couldn’t even tell that you were afraid of me as well, so I don’t know, honestly.”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not. I guess I hope your future real husband will be better than your fake one,” he jokes in an attempt to lift the mood.

“Oh. I’m not… I don’t think the possibilities of me getting married are very big.”

“Oh? Because you don’t like… men?”

You nearly snort. Honestly, yeah, all of your problems and issues could be summarized into that short sentence.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in marrying a woman, but I’m not… I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with a man–that went deeper than acquaintances–which didn't leave me hurt in one way or another. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“I know you said your dad’s an ass, and I know what happened with Hoseong and us guys at the station, but what… If you want to talk about it, what else…?”

“Who else has hurt me, you mean? It’s complicated, I guess.” 

You look down at your intertwined hands, how Jeongguk’s looks so big between yours. 

You sigh at the memory of how… non mind-blowing your relationships have been so far. Most guys you’ve dated haven’t made even the slightest of efforts for your birthday–if they even remembered it–or to plan dates of any kind after the first honeymoon months. You’ve tried, but with many men, it feels more like they want a live-in maid, who provides sex. It's definitely a conscious effort, how you try not to match Jeongguk to what your younger self dreamed of in a man.

“You remember… at the house? When you said you loved your ex, and I laughed because you’re a man and not capable of love?”

“Yeah.”

“I think that sums it up. My dad didn’t care for my mom or me, he only returned when his new, younger girlfriends–whose bodies weren’t ruined by childbearing–grew tired of his disrespectful, old ass. He knew that she still loved him, and he took advantage of that. I guess I was a little weary around men from a young age after that, but still hopeful that there could be good men out there too. Then I started dating and noticed pretty quickly that… I wasn’t really important like I’d hoped. I wanted dates–even just a picnic in the park occasionally–and I guess I took birthday celebrations–of any kind–for granted. One guy got me a bunch of candy he knew I didn’t like, so he could eat it himself, and another guy entirely forgot it was my birthday even though his was ten days before, and I got him a relatively expensive watch he’d been wanting. One guy did take me out to eat at a pretty nice restaurant, but he was also shamelessly checking out the waitress right in front of me. I saw my friends be treated the same way, and we all just… kept trying. One of my friends was in a relationship for four years, and he was a real sweetheart; made time for her, got her flowers, gave her compliments, all that. Then she discovered he’d been cheating since day one. It wasn’t until Hoseong that I truly decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“You shouldn’t give up hope.”

“It’s easy for you to say, Jeongguk. You’re a man. Your fellow men look out for you and women still care for you. And to be honest… like I said, what happened to me… it’s not something you just move past. Wherever I go, I know that practically every man I meet on the street could decide to hurt me just because he wants to. And it would be up to him, the fate of my entire life is in the hands of every random guy I pass. If he wanted to kill me, there isn’t much I could do. Not only do I know that theoretically speaking, most of them are stronger than me and don’t care what happens to me, but I know the feeling of having it happen.”

“I understand,” he assures softly, squeezing your hand, “I didn’t mean it in a ‘get over it’ way, just that I know there are men out there who would treat you like an equal partner and who would like to do those things you described that you used to want.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know, it just isn’t worth the risk for me. Romantic love isn’t everything.”

There is still a trace of pity in the look he gives you when you smile sadly at him.

After brushing your teeth and changing into your sleepwear, you find yourself outside the door to your bedroom. The storm has passed, so you definitely should go back to sleeping in your own room.

As if he could read your mind, Jeongguk, on his way to his bedroom, slows down as he passes you. He turns, looks at you and smiles gently as he continues to back toward his door. “You don’t need an excuse, you know? If you want to sleep in your room, that’s fine, but I can’t say I’m not hoping you’ll sleep with me.”

You lift your eyebrows at him, as if to say ‘oh, really?’ He should definitely stop saying ‘sleep with me.’

He shrugs, “I like having you close.”

For half a second, you shut your eyes, realizing you have no defense against him. So you open them, sighing and dropping your shoulders before following him with some species of critter in your stomach. He chuckles.

<previous | next>

author's note: please let me know if you like it! i feel like this part was really important and it was definitely hard to write because fortunately(!!!) i have not experienced what reader has and while i did my best to portray it how i think someone could react and deal with stuff like this, at the end of the day, i don't actually know and i'd hate if it comes off as wrong or glamorizing in any way. if it does, that is 1000% not my intention. on a lighter note; this is very much a calm before a storm lol

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Inept Entitlement | Sgt. Leland Coyle x Reader

Summary: After being abandoned by the rest of your team, you’re left alone, cornered by Coyle. However, you quickly manage to turn the tables, in more ways than one.

Word Count: ~ 2.7k

Warnings: smut, p in v, bondage, orgasm denial, implied overstim, masochism, sadism, getting electric shocked??, blood, violence, gore, implied racism, mentions of corpses, mutilation, excessive cussing, riding, reader is freaky and Coyle is freaky everybody is a FREAK

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: so funny writing a southern character because I’m southern and i know all the sayings. and i DID have some fire pictures to go along with this but tumblr refuses to format it correctly so yall are stuck with this. i tried to keep reader gender neutral best as the voices let me. anyway have this outlast freaks, enjoy <3

Requests are open!

It had been going smoothly.

Every task was completed decently, items collected, propaganda posters gathered amongst you and your team, avoiding most of the enemies—though Sgt. Coyle, the prime asset, was who you were avoiding like the plague.

You’d hit the button, figured that you’d get back to the Sleep room with no further difficulties, the exit opening up as the alarms blared throughout the facility, echoing through the halls as you and your comrades booked it.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been forced to split up, nearly running face-first into a grotesquely mutilated giant woman, diving into the closest room nearby while the sounds of your teammates’ boots hitting the floor became farther and farther away.

It wasn’t your first time getting to the exit alone. You could manage.

Sliding your night vision on, you crouched down, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings, or anything recognizable that could help you get where you needed to.

Shelves, hallways, locked doors, and already-looted rooms were all your eye could find as you carefully stalked from one room to another, not too keen on getting slaughtered without anybody nearby to help.

Peeking around the edge of a doorway, your hand going down to stabilize, you found a brick beneath your palm, and decided to keep it.

Just in case.

The blaring of the alarms slowly became more of simple background news as you became slowly desensitized to the environment, eyes skimming over the charred and abused bodies lying around, the things that could barely be considered human roaming the halls.

Your anxiety settled into a stable almost constant, a tightness in your chest that while not loosening, didn’t tighten anymore either.

Until you heard the sound of a familiar clicking boot hitting the floor.

“Go on and hide, if that’s what turns you on.”

You didn’t like how familiar that rough, southern voice was. Nor the zapping and harsh bite you could hear from that godforsaken baton with the wires around it.

You’d tasted the sting of it one too many times.

Holding your breath, you shimmied into the dark corridor, watching him walk down the same one, only praying you could get past him in time. You had to get to the exit.

There was a time limit, and you knew that.

The sounds of his shoes clicking against the stone floor became louder, as did your movements as you began speeding up, the doorway you were aiming to reach still being quite a few feet away.

You turned back, glancing back to try and see where he was, to gauge how fast you had to go, when it happened. You registered the sharp stabbing pain of glass in your palm before hearing it crunch beneath your feet.

“You rabbit on me ‘n I’ll fuck you to death!”

His harsh voice rang out, and you sprung up from your position, adrenaline pumping through your body, legs carrying you through the doorway as you leaped over a cart in your way, over a counter in a room, before sliding out into a hallway, nearly falling over in the harsh turn.

Ahead of you was a garage door, the yellow line at the bottom telling you it was one of the few ones you could open, though usually a team task, you could manage it.

You had to.

Running forward, trying to shove the sounds of him approaching, getting closer, into the back of your head as you reached the door.

Your fingers grasped the bottom of the metal door, yanking up, straining every muscle in your body to pull it up before you were murdered and forgotten as another reagent at the hands of Coyle.

Mind spinning, body aching, you could hear him nearing, not daring to turn and glance back at his progress, a noise of pure strain, something like a bottled scream turned to a sharp whistle, escaping your throat.

A near sob of anger escaped you, emotions welling up as you heard the crackle of buzzing electricity behind you.

You wouldn’t be here if you’d stuck with the others.

Just as he came impossibly close, the smell of his cheap cigarette wafting into your nose, his breathing right up in your ear, the vibrations of the baton nearly whispering against your skin, the garage door locked in place.

Just enough for you to slide in.

Breathing out a sigh, and nearly a sob, of relief, you dropped to the floor and began scrambling under as fast as you could, nails scraping against the concrete floor, clothes dirtied with the sticky, wet blood of others who’d tried the same and failed.

You could see the exit on the other side.

The glowing red sign. The pods. Only a few more feet, just a bit longer, then you could—

A rough, calloused hand around your ankle stopped your thoughts right where they were.

“Where’n the hell’d you think you’re goin’, peaches?”

He brusquely spoke, dragging you out from underneath the door as you screamed, kicking and flailing at him, landing a shoe directly on his face and smashing his cigarette, watching it tumble to the ground, embers smothered as he let out a growl.

The baton swung forward, and your nerves were alight with what felt like fire directly in your veins, through your skin, in your bones for god's sake. An agony you didn’t want to experience again.

When he finally pulled it away, you were left limp on the damp, cold ground, letting out a hiccup, body trembling as you tried to wrap your arms around yourself, mumbling gibberish, shaking your head.

“Don’t cry, pretty,” He crooned mockingly, a small grin overtaking his face as he pulled a cigarette from his belt, lighting it against his baton, and slipping it between his lips.

His fingers went to your face, trying to swipe away the warm, salty liquid that ran down your cheeks, his other hand now secured around the front of your shirt, lifting you to him.

He was cut short, however, when your arm shoved forward, a hard brick slamming into his face, one of the lenses of his glasses shattering partly as his hands released, knocking him to the ground, his baton separated from him by a few feet.

“Fuckin’..red bitch!”

He screamed, one of his lips busted, a clear mark left on his face, and a few small abrasions with blood beginning to just barely come out.

The brick tumbled to the ground as he got to his feet, stumbling at first, before straightening his hat, lunging towards his baton, only for you to snatch it first.

The electricity crackled to life as you plunged the baton right onto his inner thigh, watching his knees buckle, and feeling a sick satisfaction as he collapsed to the floor, though the feeling turned to something else as he began jerking forward, rutting against it like he owed it money.

“Jesus, fuckin’—god on high,” He slurred, the tent in his pants he was rubbing against the floor not becoming any less obvious by the minute.

While he was..preoccupied, you grabbed some of the rope laying around, thick with mystery liquids you didn’t want to know what were, and tied his hands behind his back while you could, watching as he was too caught up in his own dick to even notice, or if he did, care.

The reason you would give for taking the baton away right when he began to speed his frantic pace, an obvious pursuit of an orgasm, was for discomfort. Though in reality, it was a simple urge to deny it, to watch his face fall and have the power over him for once.

He tried to chase it regardless, but maybe his nerves were too fried to be able to register anything other than the pulverizing pain of a continuous electric shock, because he looked at you like you’d just murdered his whole family in front of him.

“The fuck are you doin’, whore?” Though he tried to keep that control, you and he both knew it was lost, even as his fingers fumbled with the rope, a hint of him even hoped he couldn’t untie it.

Maybe for the thrill.

You crawled over to him, legs too shaky still to even fully support you, before flipping him over, swinging a leg over his lower torso, your hands going to grab at his pecs (or more affectionately, his tits).

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing under the scruff of his neck, grey and white hairs snuck among the black ones.

Leaning down to his mouth, you stopped just a minute, face hovering above his, watching his pupils dilate just a hint, before letting your tongue lazily lick at the seam of his lips, shoving the baton into his side, the subtle shock it gave not hurting as badly as the initial sting.

He groaned, hips rolling up into yours as his eyes rolled just a hint, lips easily separating under your tongue, the taste of cheap whiskey and smoke smoothing over your tongue, your hands sliding up his neck, grabbing hold of his face and forcing him to kiss you back.

He didn’t get a choice.

One hand slipped back behind his head, taking hold of his hat and slipping it onto your head, separating from his mouth, a thin string of spit dangling until you gathered it in the back of your throat, and spat it back on him, watching how he cursed, hips growing more erratic.

Again, just as he grew close, muscles straining, eyes nearly shutting, you pulled the baton away, watching the desperation form in his eyes, the hatred of a woman on top of him and in control, or maybe the hatred of himself for liking it.

“You…you’re a real piece o’work, never met a fuck-o commie bitch like you,”

He was panting, sweat gathered on his brow, at his wits end nearly as he squirmed beneath you, watching how your pointer and middle finger reached down, plucking the cigarette from his mouth, and holding it just in front of your own.

You grinned, this time, and pressed the hot end of the cigarette against your tongue, the hot sizzle of it burning only making the sweet ache in your body stronger.

Re-lighting the cigarette with the baton, before sliding it in your mouth, you replied to him finally, a layer of mocking kindness laid on thick in it.

“You love it.”

The sound of his fly getting yanked down penetrated the air, his eyelids twitching from anticipation as you yanked his pants and boxers down in one pull, pulling his dick out less than gently.

Oh, it wasn’t pretty. One side was half scarred and burnt to hell, the other a pale color like the rest of his normal skin. The thick vein on the underside still ran, throbbing, half of the mushroomed head dripping and red with excitement.

“You’re gonna go blind if y’keep staring.” He spat, watching as you tugged your clothes out of the way, not even bothering to take them fully off in this environment, before slowly sliding him in, eyes clenched shut, grip white-knuckling on his chest.

He wasn’t extraordinarily big, didn’t need to be for you to feel as if he was splitting you in fucking half. Every inch of space taken up, your hips occasionally jerking forward, not wanting to give your body any time to adjust.

You could see how he was slowly losing it too, body moving up in the tiniest increments, desperate. But he would need that sweet, savory shock to get that release, you had a feeling.

“Christ, slicker than dick spit,” He muttered, finally just jerking up, jolting right up into your sweet spot, his legs having mini spasms at how you clamped down on him like a vice, your hips shoving forward, legs pushing against the floor as you bounced on him, riding him with as much vigor as your body allowed.

“Fuck—“

You gasped when his tip rested right against that sweet little spot of your gummy walls, grinding down against him, your nerves firing overtime, lighting your body with pleasure as you began trembling, just barely, but enough for him to notice.

“Gonna make you fuller than a fuckin’ tick,” He swore, his head jerking to the baton, a silent plead, and you grinned down at him, eyes hazy with pleasure and voice drunk on control.

“Yeah? You want it? Beg.”

He swallowed, his ego not letting him beg, but his body pleading with his mind to just give in. It would be so easy, after all, just a few words, then he could have it all.

Though he tried containing his groans and slutty grunts, he failed, watching with a near trembling lower lip as you came closer and closer, wrapped tighter, warmer around him, before finally, he broke.

“Please.” The word burst out from his mouth like a gasp for air, and you smiled, murmuring a small—

“Attaboy,”

—before shoving the baton right between his legs, right onto his balls.

He let out a noise unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before, hell, he hadn’t even made anything similar of the sort when you’d smacked him with a brick.

His eyes rolled all the way back, head tilting back far as it could as he began desperately humping into you, looking for any reprieve he could get, his skin shiny with sweat and dick weeping with arousal.

As he grew closer, his mouth fell open, harsh thrusts pummeling your insides as you could only grasp onto him, gasping with every new jolt forward, every new wave of pressure to that tightening coil in your stomach, all too ready to snap.

He slurred out what sounded like slurs mixed with southern lingo when his muscles finally tightened, body quaking as he spilled in you, hips shoving as far up as they could go, trying to keep you plugged, probably a more instinctive than intentional thing.

The wave of ecstasy overcame you, violent and completely out of control, ripping through your body until you were screaming, the cigarette having long tumbled out of your mouth, and then you were biting into his shoulder, desperate to muffle yourself.

“Crazy bitch!” He yelled, squirming, though he didn’t say he disliked it. Most likely because it would be a lie. And though Sgt. Leland Coyle was a lot of things, he wasn’t a liar.

Most of the time.

You were left soaked in sweat and god knows what, gasping for air, his hat having long fallen over your eyes and covered your vision as you collapsed against him.

Your mind was a slushy at this point, every coherent thought having been fucked out of you, and thoroughly blended.

Though your senses were hazy, you could still push yourself up and off of him, hat tumbling off your head, your hair a ragged mess, though you could also still hear the subtle sound of a door behind you opening.

Not the normal wooden doors, no, this was one of the metal ones.

A gloved hand wrapped around your throat, and you watched Coyle’s expression shift to annoyance as he began cursing the man behind you out, the ringing in your ears drowning out the sound of it.

A syringe entered your peripheral vision, before a sharp sting of pain bit at your neck, the world turning a yellowish shade of black right before your very eyes.

“Easy, take a rest.”

A male voice muttered, and you could vaguely hear Coyle screaming in the background, though he got farther away as you were picked up, carried somewhere by somebody.

“——————them for?”

Another voice asked. Coyle was gone now. The sound of buzzing fluorescent lights reached your ear, the scent of a sterile atmosphere reaching your nose, and you heard one last thing before totally losing consciousness.

“To see if he’s defective or not.”

[rose-riot-johnson]

Hello can I request a gang orca x reader (fem) fluff to smut? Orca working late and the reader tries to get him away from work? Reader sitting on orcas lap and getting him riled up. Clothes remaining on for orca, and orca kinda being shy and very gentle about sex. He’s a bit hesitant to having sex in his office but he can’t hide his excitement for it. (The reader is kinda a tease and softly strokes his bludge). The sex is romantic, no one calling each other degrading names or being super loud, just gently/rough sex. (He warns her about making noise)(Lights are off in his office and the computer light is the only thing that helps the reader see orca besides his red eyes). Orca enjoys letting her ride him and gently bends her over and works up to a rough pace from behind, while telling her how much he loves her. Creampie, and after care before they go home. The end! (Add details as usual, background, dialogue, and more. If you wish)!

I definitely will see about working on this Gang Orca fanfic you requested😃👍To warn you it could take me a while, because of a recent busy schedule and stuff going on in my personal life😅Also I'm gonna add a NSFW in this fanfic (if you don't mind) , so this will be the first requested fanfic the will get a NSFW or SFW type genres without mentioning NSFW or SFW for the request... So to warn you I do write NSFW and SFW type fanfics than I do with regular and head cannon(?) type fanfics. As for sex positions you mentioned about the reader riding Gang Orca and Gang Orca riding the reader from behind, so I will see what I can come up with from there hopefully I can write that part correctly.

☕Trying To Get Gang Orca To Wind Down☕(Kugo Sakamata, aka Gang Orca x Female Reader)

Genres: Fluff to Smut, NSFW and Sex Aftercare (Warning +18⚠️: Sexual Contact (Including (Sexual) Teasing, Bulge Stroking, Boob Groping, And Vaginal Penitration)

You have tried for weeks to get Gang Orca to take a break from his work, because he has been over working himself to get his work done. While you get he has to get work done before the deadline, however he focuses on his work nonstop and sometimes gets it done way too early.

You try to convince him to take a break for atleast a couple hours, because you know everytime he has been doing his work, he will only focus on that amd he will forget about his tummy, sleep, his well-being, etc... So, you knew you had to come up with a plan to help him take a break from his work for atleast a couple hours, if not the whole night...

One night, as you expected, Gang Orca decided his usual habit which was working late at night, no matter how tired he is, so you managed to sneak into his office, considering he's only focused on work and all the lights are, except the computer light, because he needed the computer on for his work, obviously.

You then somehow managed sneak behind him and massaged his shoulders... Gang Orca looked behind him to notice you (trying not to show he's spooked), as he asked, "I'm curious how you managed to sneak into my office, (Female Reader Name)?", before proceeding to stand up, then noticing you were wearing much less than usual.

You explained to him about how you got into his office, why you got into his office, the fact you know he will secretly get excited about the sex when opportunity happens, and other things you plan on telling him. He was hesitant about the sex at first, however he knows that neither one of you will be sure about if you will get that opportunity again.

As you gently stroked Gang Orca's bulge he groaned and whispered, "Don't Forget, (Female Reader Name)... We have to be quiet... We can't have anyone hear us... Remember what happened last time?".

Gang Orca laid down on the floor, so he can let you ride on his cock. You moved over your underwear, so you can insert his cock inside of you easier.

As you rode on his cock, the both of you held moans back trying to keep yourselves quietly, as possible, as he had you bend over a little bit, while trying to ride him, as he tells you how much he loves you.

A few minutes after you were riding him, he suggested to try out a different position, which you happily agreed, as you got off his cock and went to his desk to get yourself prepped up for what he's about to do with you from behind with you hands on the edge of his desk.

Gang Orca then went behind you and put his cock inside of your pussy, as he starts to thrust inside of you. As he continues to thrust himself inside your pussy, he gently bends you over, his thrusts get rougher the more he thrusts and he tells you how much he loves you, while he moves his hands underneath your bra to grope your breasts.

Once he came (creampied himself) inside of you, he decided to heat up something warm for you since he has the equipment to make you a cup of (hot drink of reader's choice), while thanking you for your company.

Gang Orca, then massaged your back, arms, sides, neck, legs, and feet, before he got you completely dressed. The last thing he did before he went home with you was make you another cup of a hot cup of (hot beverage of reader's choice).

It was definitely the most relaxing night you and Gang Orca ever had.

☕The End☕

I hope you enjoyed the Gang Orca fanfic my Tumblr Peeps😃👍As for you @watergod57-69 I hope I did well on the request😃👍Apologies for the wait😅Busy schedule and stuff happening outside of social media in general (I only did fanfics on Tumblr despite of having account on other social media platforms)😅Anyways I still hope you enjoyed the Gang Orca fanfic and hopefully I didn't rush the fanfic😅😃👍

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

And now i need ...

to shout and write about this wonderful fanfic

The last Angel by @bellisima-writes

What it is about:

Crowley's been Hell's Grand Inquisitor for millennia now. Ever since the Apocalypse, he's managed to carve out a relatively cushy life for himself. Hell won the War, Angels were essentially eradicated and all human souls were Satan's. Everything was fine.

Until one day he hears a rumor that the Last Angel in the universe was finally captured. Until Beelzebub is suddenly ordering him to get information from said Angel, information that's critical for Hell's survival. Until the moment he first locks eyes with the last Angel, and everything he's ever known starts to crumble around him.

OR

An AU where we see what would have happened had Aziraphale and Crowley not been assigned to Earth.

What i liked most:

🩷 this story takes you on a ride. There might be times when you are dizzy (in a good way) and not sure if you understood the plot correctly or if you got lost along the way. Trust me, stay with the story and keep on reading. It will all play out.

🤓 there is not one armageddon and not two, there are (kind of) three. The storyline is incredibly sophisticated and thought through. Not only in itself but also often picking up on scenes in S1 or S2 and offering thoughts and points of view that show just how much care and love and brain-wax (is that even a word in english?) went into this story. I had several moments thinking "wow, this is really SO so clever!"

💪 bamf Aziraphale !!! Sorry, i am a sucker for him 😁

👌 again the actionscenes in the grand finale are like a movie in your head and really gripped my pulse.

🌶 only hints to smut inside, but tenderness and the undeniable bond between our ineffables. I was outsmutted before and was glad to have a break (Uh, i cant believe i said that. 😂)

🩷 the parting words to the readers had me crying. I have read so many fics but this one was the first to really say goodbye to me/us/the readers. Such a nice gesture!

Most beloved quote:

Aziraphale cried at the awareness that this was not a kiss that was the beginning of everything he had never let himself dare to openly want. This was a kiss that marked the end of the thing he had denied himself for his entire existence, and the one thing he desperately needed.

So if you want a long story to really dive-in to, with surprising plot-twists and lots of brains, love and action, you really should give this wonderful fic a try! 😇

Reading is not a hobby, its life-giving.

[kartaylirnaak]

Hi!!! Could I ask about the codywan week lingerie chat fic pls! And also: Tup Fox Dogma????

*wriggles with excitement*

Hello!

Oh, the Codywan Week Lingerie Chat Fic. I'd originally planned it as a continuation of The Lingerie Approval Board but alas, I wrote way too many planning notes and then never managed much actual writing of fic. Here's the most I have that ever got written.

Obi-Wan: I see everyone came to a consensus on the lingerie Cody: Yes Cody:  Only took them all evening Obi-Wan: Well these things do need to be thoroughly debated Obi-Wan: It is an important decision after all Cody: Not for 3+ hours of sass and bickering it doesn’t

Tup Fox Dogma I'm going to need to put under a cut, as it is very smutty >:3

Tup Fox Dogma is Tup/Dogma with Fox joining them. This was originally a headcanon that I rambled about somewhere that evolved into a bit of fic. This is Dom Tup and Sub Dogma and they're at a clone sex dungeon where they're about to do a scene with Fox, who is also a Dom in this scene. Dogma is kneeling at Tup's feet and they're being watched by just about any and every clone you can think of in the audience. Tup enjoys fucking around with gender, which I described in my ramblings thusly:

They're a heady mix of stunning and captivating, gorgeous and intimidating, beautiful and terrifying. Dogma (and more than a few others) don't know if they want him to step on them or to worship him.

Here's a section from the ramblings that evolved into a bit of fic.

Tags (for this bit anyway): Dom/sub, riding crop, sub inspection, humiliation, negative thoughts

—

Dogma gapes up at Fox, the riding crop under his chin keeping his gazed fixed up at Fox. He's utterly lost the capacity to think and is stunned in place as he quakes under Fox's stare that is running straight through him. Dogma finally manages to reboot slightly when Tup scritches their fingers through his hair and talks to him again.

"Words, pet. Introduce yourself. We're guests at this lovely establishment and you wouldn’t want to be rude to our host, now would you?"

Dogma swallows, opens his mouth, has to swallow again because nothing came out, then finally manages to croak out a response.

"Yes, Tup. Sorry, Sir."

Of course he had to apologise. Dogma must always apologise. What was he apologising for? Did he answer correctly? He continues to kneel there, blankly staring up at Fox.

"What's your name, sub?"

An order. Dogma can do orders.

"Dogma, Sir."

"Dogma."

"Yes, Sir."

The riding crop shifts under his chin, angling his head to the side so that Fox can inspect him. Dogma moves his head with the motion, staring out into the shadows, unable to see who's staring back at him.

"Obedient little thing."

"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it."

—

That's around the start of it and it's tame compared to the other parts I've written, and the rest of the things I had planned to do to Dogma >:3

I'd love to finish this one day but I'm not sure if that'll ever happen.

[howlingmoonrise]

How do I write as good as you? Where do you get inspiration to weave your words as beautifully?

Hello sweet anon! Thank you so much 💖💖💖

Answering the second question first because it's shorter and it's also a part of the first: mostly, I get inspirations from other stories. Take the things you love from them - why do you love them? What resonates with you? Which scenes/characters/quotes come to mind and why did they leave such a mark? How can you make it so that yours come close to that? Dissect them and figure out what about them makes you tick, and how you can adapt it to the genre/voice/ambience you want to write.

As a more concrete example, I love the writing styles of Juliet Marillier and everythursday (the latter used to write for the HP fandom, you can still find PDFs/EPUBs of her work floating around). While you're reading for pleasure, if you come across passages that you feel that sound interesting, analyse them and try to figure out how you would write a sentence like that.

I'm still trying to figure out how everythursday uses verbs so deliciously - instead of the most logical choices, she often picks verbs i'd never even have thought to associate with a certain action and make it so much more vivid/real, and I'm insanely jealous of however she manages to do that. Every time I reread her writing I take mental notes of when/how/with which verbs she replaces more common ones with; another thing that endears me greatly in her writing are the tiny details that humanize the characters such (the MC noticing that there is "a freckle or perhaps a fleck of dirt" on the knot of the ML's wrist, or that he's wearing a black sock and a navy one because either he didn't notice or didn't care enough to match socks - and these are actual tidbits that are on her fic Finders that were so vivid that I just remember them off the top of my head like that).

More concrete writing advice (that specifically works for me, YMMV):

Vary it up. Don't start sentences and paragraphs always in the same way. Change paragraph lengths instead of keeping to consistent blocks. Change sentence length too - and sentence structure! - or the brain will get bored and start skipping ahead because it's always the same old rhythm. The image below is the best example of this I've seen yet:

Riding on the coattails of that one, I'm a fan of using different kinds of punctuation to change up the rhythm and sentence structure, but it's good to know whether you're actually using them correctly or it's bound to get distracting to the reader. This is very much a personal taste one though, even more than the others.

"Said" isn't dead! "Said" is very much alive and kicking! "Said" is the default verb your brain will basically ignore and won't be bothered by, and that means you should use it the most often. You use the others when you want to emphasize certain dialogue bits or want a particular inflection (like when there's a question), but it's going to get distracting if you use too many variations in a row.

Adverbs also aren't dead and this is the hill I die kill on. "Said softly" is very different from "whispered" and on many occasions it's less jarring. Much like the above, though, you don't want to use too many in a row unless it's for specific stylized sentences/emphasis (e.g.: "completely and perfectly and incandescently happy").

Mood is important. So important. And which words and sentence structure/lengths you use influence this greatly! You want a higher frequency of short and snappy words/sentences for fast-paced scenes; languid, longer sentences and more flowery words for, say, painting an idyllic day on a Victorian era parlour where the most they do is enjoy the sun and write correspondence. The places and ways you work in the descriptions also works to build this up.

Simplify. Sometimes you have this one specific habit/description/colour you really want to work in! But sometimes, idk, "as blue as the lake waters by the spring morning sunlight", or "her pacing habit that had existed since she was a kid living in the old foster house in Mulder's Lane" will absolutely clog up and wreck your sentence/paragraph, and despite loving that particular description you might have to simplify it to "spring morning blue" or "her pacing habit".

Kill your darlings (yes, I hate some interpretations of this too). This one follows up a bit from the point above: remove the bits/characters that are ruining your scene/story, even if you really like how they sound when examined on their own (you can move them to a scraps document for if you want to add them back in later and/or hate deleting stuff like me).

I hate this one but. You're gonna have to delete stuff. If you're stuck and have been despairing for days over how to continue a scene, the solution is very likely in deleting the last few paragraphs, or the whole scene, or perhaps more. The issue is rarely in the last sentence you wrote. Figure out where the scene started going off the rails and go from there instead of trying to fruitlessly continue a scene you're not enjoying and that isn't going anywhere.

Mix in description with dialogue/action. Unless I'm writing-- idk, food? I don't really like to do huge descriptive blocks. We all hated reading four entire pages describing some curtains in high school, right? So for me what works is to work in little bits of description amidst the rest. "She had long raven hair tied up in a ponytail" is far less engaging than mentioning the way her ponytail bounces when she does a quick jog for the bus, and at some later point saying that she brushed back her dark hair, for example.

Break up dialogue, actually. Going from the above and also the very first point, you want to vary up your rhythm, and a huge block of dialogue is one of the things this applies to. Also having only quick dialogue exchanges with no tags can be fun for a portion of a scene (or a specific genre of fic) and it's perfect for humour/snappy banter, but you rarely want to read a fic where all the dialogue is only that. Throw in some action/descriptions between dialogues bits, or even in the middle of a sentence a character is speaking, and give it some oomph. Take care not to overdo it and make the reader forget how the sentence started, though!

Pacing. Working with the above, but adding "description" (word used loosely here) to a place where you feel like things are going too fast is going to help you make it feel not as abrupt and give it some breathing room. Conversely, removing all the interim action/description is going to make it feel like the next bit happened right after.

"Write the same way you speak" is bullshit. I know several of my friends defend this but. Nope! Sorry, you can't sell me on that one. If you're writing an atmospherical story you're not going to write a character going "Uh, no, but wait, actually, I said like--" all the time unless that character is either shy or nervous. You also don't usually use people's names all the time in real life conversations, for example, but in dialogue it can help the reader situate themselves regarding who's speaking and make it feel more intimate/pointed depending on the scene.

Love the words you use. Note that this is different from loving your writing: what I mean is that if you use a series of words you find unpleasant (and this is especially noticeable with smut and words referring to genitals, which people usually have very strong feelings about) in places where something is supposed to be nice and flow prettily, it's not going to sound nice or pretty. Nice words can be "sing", "mulled", "cruel"; not so pleasant words can be "warbled", "groin", "odoriferous" - not so much due to their meanings, but due to how the word itself sounds to you, especially in the context of the sentence. There are ill-meaning words that can sound pleasant, and vice-versa. But "her body sings as she stretches" hits much different than "her body warbles as she stretches" - which can absolutely be used for humour and in other situations, but you need to be conscious and aware of how your specific word choice will hit. I personally agonize over word choices for hours, because for example I will want the specific implied meaning of "sussurred" but I will hate the sound of it in the context of that particular sentence, and no synonyms are working in a sufficiently pleasing manner (and I will often end up rewriting the sentence because of this).

Try to stay in-character, especially in dialogue. Characters don't all speak the same. A character that canonly only says "Mm" and short sentences suddenly dropping a huge speech will be a hard sell. Similarly, a character that speaks formally isn't about to drop slang and "yeah" left and right. A Fantasy Medieval Era character will speak far more formally than a modern day one - unless that's the gag on the canon media (or your original stuff) - but a commoner will generally not speak the same as a king, and neither of those will speak like a modern person at all.

Also, the one things everyone hates to hear, myself included: practice. I've been writing for... a pretty long time, oof, and I was very lucky in my first forays into fic writing, with a very chill and supportive fandom (Danny Phantom in like... 2007-2009 or so) - and back then my writing was terrible. But I had the space to experiment and commit all manners of writing atrocities, and getting that out of the way allowed me to understand a lot of what works and what doesn't. It's kind of like drawing: just because you can picture something perfectly in your head, it doesn't mean it's going to get translated well to paper, and to get better at that you're going to have to study and practice anatomy, shading, folds, etc before it starts getting anywhere near what you have in your head. It's much the same with writing, though the equivalent notions feel a lot more abstract and aren't as easily categorized.

This got a bit long (to no one's surprise), but I hope this helps! Let me know if you'd like me to explain any points further, and once again thank you for you lovely words 💖

[annabelle-creart]

Valley of the Sacred Au. Shenanigans, part 1

---

Niquel: Heatwave?

Heatwave: tell me

Niquel: what are you writing now?

Purpurine: yes! You're always writing! Why?

Heatwave: well, kids, stories doesn't tell itself, someday they will be tell by someone else and that someone will need them

Purpurine: Like who?

Heatwave: like you, for example

Niquel: but we already know those stories

Heatwave: now, but nobody can tell us if you will remember those stories correctly in the future, that's why I write them. And is also because I want to make sure I still remember them...

---

Many, many vorns ago

---

Soundwave: Heatwave? Where are you? Hey!

Soundwave: Where's this idiot-?

Heatwave: GET OUT OF THE WAY

Soundwave: the- FRAG! HEATWAVE, WHY ARE YOU RIDING PERSEPHONE?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO JUST CLEAN HER!

Shockwave: he thought he could domesticated her alone

Soundwave: the frag?! Shock- help me get Persephone and I'll try to catch that idiot. Who would say, Heatwave, Tamer of organic bulls!

Heatwave: EXCUSE ME FOR WANTING TO DO SOMETHING QUICK!

Soundwave: FRAG YOU AND YOUR QUICK METHODS!

Shockwave: why didn't I stayed on my lab like a normal scientist?

...

Soundwave: now you're happy?

Heatwave: at least now she respects me

Shockwave: your helm has a dent but is not that bad

Soundwave: you sure?

Heatwave: see? I'm no glass bot!

Soundwave: if you say so, oh mighthy "warrior"

Heatwave: No worries, dear companion

Shockwave: you're acting like sparklings

Soundwave: we? He's the damned sparkling here!

Heatwave: I am no sparkling! And I just wanted to do something that was ACTUALLY useful, rather than just fragging watch!

Soundwave: Your responsability as white knight is supposed to be actual RESPONSIBLE, and that was Everything but RESPONSIBLE! What if that dent wasn't just a tiny one? What if it had been worse?

Heatwave: but it is not! And I'm okay!

Soundwave: No, you're not okay! And you definitely never deserved that sword

Heatwave: Little reminder, damned birdie-

Shockwave: Heatwave!

Heatwave: I don't care how much you say I don't deserved it, I have it, I am the one who uses it and I am the owner, not you, because Hex choosed Me

Soundwave: ...I knew he made the wrong decission then...

---

Heatwave: Do you believe that?! How can Soundwave, my OWN spark say those things?! Eh?!

Heatwave: ...I know you're just a sword but come on! I heard you talk with Hex before! Or maybe he was just crazy? However! You must be useful for other things rather than cutting grass! Come on! Gimme some good power! You choose me to be your swordsman, your warrior of light! But you just don't react! Come on! Say something!

Heatwave: ...

Heatwave: frag...

Heatwave: please don't make that, don't give Soundwave the reason this time! I'm tired that Soundwave always has the reason, I can be better! I can do anything! Just don't give Soundwave the reason this time... I want to be something, someone that will be remembered through time... please, don't make me this

Heatwave: ...

Heatwave: I guess Hex was indeed crazy for talking to a sword just like me

---

Soundwave: I promise in Unicron's name that if that idiot does something stupid again...

Shockwave: Soundwave, I want you to stay calm and actually hear what you're saying

Soundwave: sorry?!

Shockwave: stop satanizing Heatwave'a efforts! He had been only what he thinks is right since the beginning!

Soundwave: and yet he does it wrong

Shockwave: and yet he manages to get Persephone on balance with just a tiny dent and creativity! Soundwave, none of us are kids anymore, and yet you still act like the older brother when I am supposed to do so, and Heatwave

Soundwave: not meanwhile that idiot still tries to kill himself

Shockwave: *sigh*

*The door cracked*

Lightwave: Hi hi hi! I, how are my favorite siblings?? Wait, where's Heatwave?

Radiowave: How did you make Persephone so calm? And clean? Is she tired or sick? An organic bull of her size does not stay so quiet like that! All that flesh needs to move constantly

Lightwave: that's right! Don't tell me Heatwave finally dom her

Soundwave: ... *they just looked at their sister with irritated optics*

Shockwave: something like that

Radiowave: he did that? Alone?

Lightwave: I was being sarcastic, I didn't expexted to hear that

*An explosion is heard, far away*

Shockwave: What was that?

Soundwave: bring our things, Lazerbeak, search for Heatwave, we will see each other on the explosion place

---

Heatwave: The frag was that? Finally! A real mission! Thanks, Unicron, Primus, Light sword!

---

Meanwhile, on the town

---

*: The heck?!

#: The temple is crumbling!

&: Get Out of the way!

*Bots yelled and cried, trying to get out of the temple as could, at least the weekly mass of the temple was already done and people gone, and the rest could get out before everything became fire and ruins, some tried to bring water and other liquids but the flames were too high*

$: Oh, Primus!

Soundwave: Is everyone okay?!

$: Just a couple of wounded bots

Shockwave: And Heatwave?

Soundwave: The frag... Shock, prioritize the wounded. Radio, get everyone away from the flames. Light, I'll need some runes to calm the fire

Light/Shock/Radio: On It!

---

Heatwave: Is that the temple?

Lazerbeak: Hey!

Heatwave: Lazer! Dude, my siblings are already on the explosion? Wait- what was that?

Lazerbeak: Don't lose time, Heatwave, come here!

Heatwave: Did you saw that shadow?

Lazerbeak: what shadow?

Heatwave: On the roofs! Maybe is the reason of the explosion!

Lazerbeak: Heatwave! Ahg, Onyx, Micronus, give me patience!

---

Heatwave: Hellow?

*Heatwave followed the shadow inside an empty, dark hallway on another building, he didn't recognized the building yet but it was quite strange all of this situation, he got the light sword out on hand, iluminating part of the way, if only he knew a pair of optics was looking for him to be distracted*

Heatwave: okay...

*Was all he could say before something pushed him to the floor, he only managed to see how fast that shadow was*

Heatwave: HEY! WAIT THERE!

*Heatwave stepped on his pedes and went fast after the shadow, managing to discover the zig-zag movements and the hints to distract him, finally seeing the shadow pass through a giant pair of heavy doors, at which he passed through fast*

Heatwave: HEY!

*But it was already too late, the shadow had something on its servos, and when it noticed Heatwave was there, it throwed something on the floor, Heatwave tried to go for it, but like if something was absorbing it, he fell on his back and nailed his sword to the floor to stay still, it was like, a black hole? The shadow hanged itself on the ceiling and managed to get to the nearest window, broke it and then went to the roof, Heatwave could only see a pair of white dots from the shadow. Some seconds after, the hole closed, the room was kind of messy but nothing important seemed broken or taken, only a weird little compartment at the end of the hall was open and empty, it seems the shadow, the thief, had already what it wanted*

---

Soundwave: Lazerbeak! Where's Heatwave?

Lazerbeak: Chasing spirits like a ghostbuster

Soundwave: By Primus sake, I'll kill that idiot!

Lightwave: *on comm link crystal* flames off, Sound, no signal of fire, but this will take a bit to fix, even with runes

Radiowave: People's safe, but they're still worried

Shockwave: guys...? The bot Lightwave got out of the building...

Light: Primus...

Radiowave: I hope they're under Necrobot's grace right now

Lazerbeak: Damn...

Heatwave: Guys! You will not believe what I just saw but you should-

Soundwave: Where the frag have you been?!

Heatwave: Soundwave, lil' bro, I know it feels weird-

Soundwave: Lil' bro? Look at you! We just had an emergency and you prefered to take a walk?!

Heatwave: It wasn't a walk! It was-

Soundwave: Heatwave! Land yourself! Someone just died! This is serious-!

Heatwave: This is serious too! A shadow on the hall-

Soundwave: HEATWAVE, SHUT UP AND LISTEN FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE! I'm done with your weird and damned fantasies! And I'm not sorry if you don't like that because I'm bored of you trying to act like if you're mature or better, because you are NOT! You keep acting like a damned child and the only thing you did well today was to give up the only thing you had to do! And now someone died!

Heatwave: ...Sound, I-

Soundwave: grow up, Heatwave! Your magic sword and you are not the only important things here

*Soundwave stepped behind to check on the people that were still watching the temple, now in ruins and ash, as Heatwave could only stand in silence, repeating Soundwave's words on his processor like a big bell*

×: excuse me, are you the adventurers that rent the barn outside the town?

Heatwave: ah, yes? And you are...

+: did you said "shadow"? On the hall?

Heatwave: that's not important

Lightwave: Heatwave! Where had you been? Are you okay? Why that face? Did Soundwave told you something?

+: sir, what did you mean with shadow on the hall? The hall of the community house?

Heatwave: miss, I-

[]: THE GRIAL! THE GRIAL IS GONE!

*A voice far away shouted with all their voice box could stand*

[]: THE GRIAL IS NOT ON THE HALL!

×: what?!

Heatwave: the hall did they said?

Lightwave: what grial?

+: you said a shadow did it, right?! It had white optics and summoned a hole on the ground?!

Heatwave: how do you know that?

Lightwave: I got kind of lost, what are you talking about?

×: Why didn't you stopped it?!

Heatwave: The thief? I tried, I really tried, but I almost got eated by a black hole on the ground!

Lightwave: a hole on the ground-?! Heatwave, are you sure you're okay?

+: That was not a shadow! That was the Black Hole Magician!

×: GUARDS! GUARDS!

Heatwave: wait wait wait- miss, wait a moment! What are you talking about

Lightwave: Magicians doesn't exist! They're just legends from times the Primes still walked these lands!

+: No, they do exist! And this is the most dangerous you could saw! Bless Quintus you're not hurt! It is said it is an evil spirit from Ereska, and since it's destruction it had been stealing powerful and rare artifacts, who knows why!

Heatwave: What's Ereska?

Lightwave: You weren't even made when it happened, I'll explain you later. Miss, I really need to know more about this... magician, because the name is not know to me, and even if it was a star-touched, it is not possible that it is a magician

+: foolish femme! It is a Magician! Is the only way possible to explain of its strange behavior and its spells! Didn't you knew some stars become black holes when they die?!

#: the Black Hole Magician, did you say?!

@: It is impossible! The hall is secure!

Town guard: some of us had to rotate earlier to take care of the explosion, and we just found some others injur-

Chief guard: Don't worry, citizens, the thief shouldn't be far away, and I already sent search parties-

$: If it was the Black Hole Magician, there's no way your search parties will bring the grial back!

Chief guard: The Black Hole Magician is just an urban legend, and this thief will be punished by Justice's servo...

Lightwave: Heatwave, what did you saw back on the hall?

Heatwave: I saw a shadow on the roofs, going on the opposite direction of the fire, Lazerbeak didn't trusted me but I went after it, it was stronger and hid easily but I found it, but I got distracted by the hole on the ground and went away...

Heatwave: Holy shit- I just let a fragging spirit steal an important cup!

Lightwave: It is not a spirit! That shit doesn't exist, same magicians! I'll talk with Soundwave and the rest, we have to help them get the grail again, the thief should not be far. Guys!

Heatwave: Primus, dear Primus. My first real mission...

Heatwave: frag it. A fraggin' shadow will not take down a light warrior!

Heatwave: ...it will not

[krysta-cross]

Happiest Birthday to you my very sweet twinnie @darialovesstuff 💜🌙

I just want to take the opportunity to thank you for loving my OC, Krysta 🌟 and always remembering her and her aesthetics.

Greatly appreciated 💙

Tumblr has been great for me because of kind people like you 💕

This isn’t much and I am not quiet sure if I got this correctly but I managed to make headcannons for MysticWind. The request has taken so looooong but it’s on me because of my lack of confidence in writing but thanks to some boost I somehow am trying to do my best ^^

Some SFW and NSFW here ⤵️

MysticWind headcannons

SFW:

Fujin and Dia loves going to picnics, whether it’s them alone or with the kids. They like to go during afternoons when the sun nears to set, watching its beauty fade slowly until it’s dark and the moon takes over.

Mystic wind couple works together for things they want to accomplish like spells for the witch wife or paperworks for the wind god, they work well on helping each other finish their task then spend the remaining free time to cuddle.

Dia always keeps the kids in check especially if Fujin is busy with his god duties. She manages the household well and makes sure that everyone follows the schedule or anything they have to do.

MysticWind enjoys their time together even brief, like sharing a cup of coffee together while discussing how their days went is already a bliss and they value even the short time they can share off duty.

Night time is the most romantic thing for them. Laying down on the grass while staring at the night sky riddled with stars, with the bright full or crescent moon illuminating the darkness as they talk about how they adore each other. The wind blows a cool breeze that brings a dewy flowery aroma which makes it more romantic, staring at each other they seal the deal with a hot, passionate kiss.

NSFW:

During their sexy time, Dia likes to tease Fujin first before they do the deed. She will use minor spells for seduction and that excites the wind god the most. Little efforts rewards more. Nothing’s more exciting than seeing your hot witch wife strip tease her sexy goth witch outfit, dropping each piece on the floor making some clinking sounds from the metal adornments are music to Fujin’s ears.

The couple always wants a piece of each other everytime. The spark doesn’t die down even though they have been together for long. Fujin always wants his hands all over her, Dia also wants the same and the lovemaking deed is surely “bewitching”.

Fujin is very big on aftercare, he makes sure Dia is well taken care of after the intense lovemaking. She needs to hydrate? She is hungry? She needs a change of clothes? Name it, Fujin gets it in a whim.

Dia is a switch. She both enjoys riding the wind god or him railing her and making sure he is satisfied with it. Everytime they fuck it’s like an endurance contest, no one wants to show they are exhausted so they last for many rounds until they are both panting then laughs because of how childish they acted.

The couple are loud in bed, moans, groans and screams echoes the room, they find it sexy and a big turn on. Thank goodness for the spell that makes the room sound proof, the kids aren’t disturbed and the couple can be as loud as howling wolves during a full moon, able to fully express their love and intense passion they share every night.

~Hope you like it and enjoy your special day because you deserve it 💕

[katebluebird]

i thought about writing a bunch of one-shots about kate, to get a better feel of her characters, since i do that better in practice. most of them will be angst in some shape or form, but the first one is an exception - kate's and ingo's first meeting, based on the roleplay with wardenswateringhole

1. What is he, a saint?!

wordcount: 4053

When Kate came to Nimbasa City, she found herself drawn to the Battle Subway.

She was never that interested in battle facilities, despite being to three different regions before, two of which have world famous facilities. But there is simply one fundamental problem with the concept that prevents Kate from being interested in them – it’s battles for the sake of battles. Sure, by winning one does earn battle points they can later exchange for cool, or even helpful things. But Kate was never interested in any of the items those exchange shops hold. And the battles at the facilities do not give the winning party any cash, so Kate never had anything to gain from them. It’s just the she acquired growing up with Pokémon battles being a mean of surviving.

But this place is different. It isn’t some remote location that can’t be accessed by people who haven’t beaten the Unova league. And it isn’t just a battle facility either. It doubles as a public transport – a whole subway system that spreads under the whole region, like an Ariados web. It in itself is already a wonder that Kate has never seen before, having lived without ever really seeing a real train before. A wonder of technology that can take you almost anywhere in Unova, a complicated network that manages to run like the clock, precise and efficient. Just relax, while the huge metal pipe follows its set tracks, with no mistakes, its wheels producing a rhythmic sound that is almost soothing. There is something fascinating and satisfying Kate finds about it all, that she doesn’t about any other mean of transportation. Fascinating enough to take up the habit of coming down here whenever she has some time to kill, even when she doesn’t actually has to go anywhere, and just ride the trains, or sit at a station and just watch the trains instead.

Although this is already enough of a reason for Kate to come here so often, she eventually end up finding another reason.

Kate sighs as she leans on the back of one of the seats at the station she’s at. Her gaze is locked on a man in a long white coat and a matching conductor’s hat. He is in the other side of the station, busy with something, a tablet in hand and talking with someone in a green uniform.

This isn’t the first time Kate sees the man in the subway. Emmet is his name, if she remembers correctly. She had no idea who he is initially. Only after living in Nimbasa for a few months did she learn of its celebrities – the twins who run the Battle Subway together. The Subway Bosses. And Emmet is one of them, apparently.

Kate was never the person to care much about celebrities. They just exist somewhere, in a world that’s parallel to hers, and everyone is minding their own business. But it wasn’t Emmet’s celebrity status that made Kate curious about him. There is just something… fascinating about this man. Whenever she sees him, she notices how he has a peculiar body language that’s simply fun to watch. It resonates with her somehow. Whenever he interacts with other people and Kate happens to witness it, it is always bound to turn into something entertaining, with how straight to the point and honest he is, while somehow also being playful. When she looked through his social media, she found a treasure trove of hilarious antics that she found funnier than any stand up performance she’s ever seen before. And it is not fake, like social media accounts of companies that try to humanize their brand. All of it is genuine, as far as she can tell. And it is very stimulating to watch. It’s been a long while since she found herself so interested in another human being.

So, Kate found herself interested and fascinated enough to watch him in his natural habitat from time to time. It helped her build a more complete picture of that man. She isn’t sure if this is what people feel when they like a celebrity, but she prefers to think she is simply admiring a person she finds entertaining from afar. Like how she would with any other person she would interested in. With the exception that Kate would not approach said person. Because he’s actually famous, and the idea of sticking up a conversation with him is even more terrifying because of that.

And that was how it was for a few months, with no changes to the routine. Kate was pretty alright with just watching the funny man from afar, until she saw another one, in a similar coat and hat, but black instead of white.

That is the other twin – Ingo. It took Kate an embarrassing amount of time to remember his name. He isn’t as entertaining from afar as his brother. His body language is stiff, his interactions with people much more professional. Even his social media is barely active, and whenever it was, he actually sounded much more like a regular corporate account manager than anything.

And yet… he also has something about him. It’s something different from Emmet, but that something still made Kate start watching him occasionally as well. She only noticed it after a while, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on what I was exactly.

He is polite. Incredibly polite. Sometimes overly polite, it’s almost like he always keeps professional, no matter the situation. She has also seen him excited about things a few times, and that politeness remains every time. It’s almost like that’s somehow his default – simply how he talks. He also seems very kind and patient whenever he talks with anyone – his brother (despite their very funny antics), other passengers, his employees, lost kids and Pokémon. His voice can be very loud, and his facial expressions and movements intimidating, and yet he has this absolute underlying softness and gentleness to him, that once Kate started to notice, could no longer get it out of her head. It was drawing her in, slowly but surely.

Suddenly, just watching from the sidelines is not enough anymore. And that is a problem, because the idea of approaching him is still terrifying.

It’s gonna pass eventually, she thinks. It’s just passing curiosity, and there’s no reason to act on it. And yet, in a regular schedule, like it’s a routine at this point, Kate keeps returning to the Subway every day, just to get a glimpse of the man she became so unusually curious about. After two weeks of just observing, Kate realized that she either needs to move on or do something about this. Ideally both, since she knew she wouldn’t be able to move on without actually approaching first, even just for a short chat.

But how? She can maybe actually try going on a Single Train and getting to him, but Kate isn’t sure it’s a good idea. There probably wouldn’t be enough time to chat before or after the battle, so there wasn’t much point. The only other option she can think of is to just approach him while he’s at the station nearby, but Kate also isn’t sure she is brave enough to do that. She would have been scared to do that with anyone else, and Ingo would be in the middle of work when she approaches. Distracting the man from his work would just make Kate even more embarrassed and more awkward in the interaction…

But after a few days of arguing with herself, Kate decides that she’d rater just butcher their interaction, so she can finally move on, rather than get stuck on this forever. So, one day, she goes down the subway with a specific purpose in mind.

It’s a middle of pretty busy day. While the station isn’t the most crowded Kate has ever seen it, there are still plenty of people walking around. Kate has been standing near a wall for a while now, watching people rush by and waiting for Ingo to hopefully eventually show up. For now, only Emmet is there, talking with someone Kate assumes to be a fan. She isn’t too focused on them though, as she doesn’t want to get distracted and accidentally miss someone she is waiting for.

Finally, her eyes focus on the man she has been waiting for – the big black coat is very hard not to notice, even in a crowd. He is walking along the platform, and oh so conveniently, his route seems to be going right past her. As if the circumstances could have been anymore perfect. She just has to take a step, both literal and metaphorical, and actually speak up. For just a few seconds, Kate feels her whole body freeze, and her feet and fingers grow cold, despite the station being actually pretty stuffy. But when Ingo stops in his tracks not too far from her, checking something on the tablet in his hand, something in Kate’s brain clicks, and a mask is on without her even realizing it at first. With confidence she doesn’t actually have, she takes a step forward, walking up to the conductor from behind.

“We had one face that’s sweet as candy and very kissable around here already, but now we have two! Christmas came early this year”.

Kate smiles, as if what she said was completely planned and not at all just something she would have never said if she gave it just a moment of thought. The moment the last sentence leaves her mouth, she feels herself die a little on the inside. But there is no way back, so Kate keeps smiling and looking at the man, waiting for him to react to her shameless flirting.

While all this is rushing through Kate’s mind, Ingo turns around to face her, his usually somewhat grumpy looking face red, and eyes somewhat widened. It takes him two more seconds to find what to say, and even then he stutters.

“OH! O-oh! Uh! You’re too kind, passenger! I- I would not call myself k-kissable. Eh- Emmet is the sw-sweet one. Perhaps you are looking for him?”

The man stutters with almost every word he says, his voice only evening out when he wonders if Kate mistook him for his twin. This… is not the reaction Kate expected. What she said actually flustered him? She wouldn’t have been surprised if she scared him and made him just leave this random girl who threw a cringe-worthy pick-up line at him, or told her this was inappropriate. Yet he didn’t. This is weird.

Kate suddenly wants to push further, to see how the man would react if she were to continue down this path. How far could she take this until he ran out of patience? She’s seen many of his emotions before while watching him, but never him losing his temper.

So, Kate smiles slyly, squinting her eyes at the tall man. “I’d say you both have very sweet and kissable faces. Especially now that you’re blushing, remind me of strawberry ice cream. Mind if I try and see if you’re as sweet as you look?”

With the tip of her tongue stuck out from between her lips, and a wink, Kate says out loud another sentence that would have made her burn alive from embarrassment if she gave it any further thought. Quite the ask – for a kiss, after barely exchanging a few words. Now he is sure to get angry or annoyed, Kate thinks. But to her shock, Ingo’s face becomes redder and his body language, which is usually already pretty stiff, loses its professional edge and becomes something shy and flustered.

“I- I- I-“, he stutters, completely caught off guard. Yet he is still not annoyed in the slightest. “I assure you! I do not taste like ice cream!” His eyes dart in different directions, “I’m not sure what I taste like, I have never bothered to investigate such a proposition, I would think I would taste like black coffee since it’s what I consume a majority of the time, which is admittedly not healthy, but I cannot resist it, as I work on late night paperwork, forgive me passenger but I do not taste as good as you probably expect – “

Ingo’s rant lasts for a while, and he never once takes a breath, until the very end, which leaves Kate both shocked and impressed. When he notices that he isn’t really going anywhere good with this, he looks at Kate, and stutters once again.

“I- “, he turns around to look where his brother is standing in the distance. “EMMET HELP!”

Kate leans to the side, to look at Emmet without Ingo obstructing the view, to see how he would react. She expects him to maybe come over to see what the commotion is, or maybe be the one to tell the girl harassing his twin off. But all he does is smile in their direction and give Ingo a thumbs up.

“You got this, brother!... Full steam ahead! Aim for the tracks that run through the heart!”

Kate genuinely laughs, covering her mouth with a hand, and she can hear Ingo groan as he turns back to her. This is pretty fun. She would remember this for the rest of her life, once all of this is over and they never see eachother again. Before her consciousness kicks in though and she feels mortified at what she’s done, she wants to go as far as she can, push as hard as she can. She doesn’t actually think she will get that kiss, but she’s already here, so might as well go all out before it’s all over.

“Black coffee, huh? That’s an acquired taste for me. I guess I’ll need to get exposed to the taste a few times, to get addicted”, she winks again, her hips swinging left and right ever so slightly. She is expecting Ingo to either get flustered again, or finally get annoyed and tell her to leave. While he does seem to calm down a little, he still doesn’t seem angry. Despite his somewhat intense facial expression, Kate has a feeling that’s just how his face usually is.

“In that case, I would highly recommend the café just down the street from the Gear Station. They have very good dark roasts, a personal favorite of mine”. His face became somewhat thoughtful for a moment. “We frequently send a depot agent to get our orders for us. Emmet’s order usually consists of half a dozen confectionaries as well…”

It takes Kate a moment to realize what Ingo is proposing. Is he… asking her out to a café? …Why? That is the opposite of what she expected to happen when she started this whole thing. She locks hands behind her back and winks again.

“Hm, a café sounds nice, yes… Though since you said you probably taste like black coffee, I think I’d like a taste from a more appealing place”.

Another absolutely embarrassing line, but Kate is determined to push and finish this. She either somehow gets that kiss as a payment for leaving the man alone already, or, which is more likely, she finally gets told to leave, and they can end this charade here. And once again, despite all of Kate’s expectations, Ingo isn’t annoyed and laughs loudly, before looking down at her again with.

“I would like to remind to passengers that tasting the Subway Bosses is ill advised, due to possibly communicable diseases and general hygiene observances, in which saliva is spread out one or both parties, possibly leading to a health hazard – “, he pauses for a moment, his voice suddenly quieter, and he looks away a little embarrassed. “…Why do I feel like I should not have mentioned that?”

Kate laughs again. The whole exchange has been entertaining so far, even more than Kate would have imagined it would have been from just watching from afar, or looking through the twins’ social media. She supposes it’s no use asking for a kiss again, so she might as well swing in the direction Ingo himself is leaning… for whatever reason.

“Hmm, well, since you’re not down to getting dirty with saliva exchange, how about I ask you out to that café you mentioned instead, and we get to bacteria exchange later, once you do actually taste like coffee?”

Another flirtatious wink, and Kate is expecting Ingo to finally let her down gently, so this exchange can be over and they can go their separate ways. But instead, he blushes again and looks away, stuttering for a moment.

“U-um… I suppose that would be more appropriate…”

As soon as his mind can focus on something else though, his voice and face become a little excited, rather than bashful. “I would enjoy showing you the various flavors and blends they have. They don’t just have coffee! They have tea and juices as well. Perhaps you will find something new you will like!”

Kate rolls her eyes a little, but she was still smiling.

“I think I already did, since I’m going to be with you”, she winks again. It probably looks like a tick at that point. “So what time do you get off work?”

Ingo looked thoughtful, and it seemed like he was genuinely thinking about this. “Unfortunately, our roles as Subway Bosses do not award us the luxury of ever truly having time off. However, spending my break in pleasant company would be favorable to spending it locked in my office”.

Kate doesn’t show it, but her heart skips a beat at the sudden compliment, and she feels her cheeks grow warmer. Ingo doesn’t notice he caught her off guard though, as he is busy giving her the time when they would meet. It’s a good thing, because Kate is sure she wouldn’t be able to come up with anything to say in that moment.

“Our time will be a bit short, but hopefully enjoyable. I can ask Emmet to do some of the paperwork for once. Of course, I will most likely have to go back and redo it because of his atrocious handwriting”. He sighs and shook his head, before looking at Kate again. “Nevermind, I can pull a late shift. I look forward to our meeting”.

Kate is smiling and nodding, before she even fully realizes what exactly she is agreeing to. She isn’t quite there fully, as otherwise the conversation wouldn’t flow as well as it does now, and she would stumble over her own words. “Got it. A short meeting is fine with me”. She smiles slyly again. “I’ll just have to be super efficient and try to make you blush as many times as I can in the short amount of time we’ll have! Where should we meet?”

“We could meet at the Gear Station. I can guide you to the café in question. And there is no need to make me blush, dear passenger!” He perks up suddenly. “Ah! It would not be appropriate for me to continue calling you passenger. Is there something else you would like to go by?”

Kate pauses for a moment. She wasn’t initially planning on sharing her name, since she was also not planning on taking this anywhere far. Her plan was to just have a short conversation, see the reaction, be sure that her curiosity is satisfied and make sure she doesn’t feel like she is missing a chance at anything, because she knows she freaked him out. If she gave it a few more seconds of serious thought, she would have completely lost her composure, panicked, and flee the scene, never to be seen again. But she isn’t thinking about all that anymore at the moment, instead relying only on the front she adapted, and smiles again.

“Of course there is a need! A need for me to see you blush! It’s so cute!” She locks her hands behind her back again and sways her hips left and right idly, moving her weight from one leg to another, making her dress and sash ribbon on the back sway along with her. “Yeah, that works for me. And I guess I should share my name, since I keep saying I want to taste you. My name is Kate. Nice to meet you”.

Ingo raises his arm and holds the rim of his hat. Kate has a feeling he is also smiling, though it’s pretty hard for her to tell by his face yet. “The pleasure is all mine, Kate. Please remember, the Subway Bosses are friends, not food”.

Kate giggles again and puts a finger on her cheek. “That will be hard to remember. You look so sweet, I can’t help but want to give you a peck on your cheek! But I’ll try to hold off until we get to that café at least”.

She winks for what feels like a tenth time, and Kate feels that she really needs to wrap this up, as she isn’t sure for how long she can keep this going. She smiles again, this time more mischievously, as she waved at Ingo and begins to leave.

“See you again soon!”

She catches only a glimpse of Ingo waving back at her and mirroring her goodbye with another blush. Kate doesn’t actually need to go anywhere, and is simply walking in a random direction, before changing tracks and going towards the station exit once she was out of Ingo’s line of sight. Only when she is outside the station, in the sunlight and fresh air, does everything suddenly dawns on her.

“What. The fuck”.

She stops in her tracks and stares into the distance, her expression shell-shocked. What in the actual fuck just happened? She just scored a date with that man, didn’t she? What did she… How did she even manage that? She was being absolutely obnoxious, she was sure he’d tell her to fuck off. There’s no way he’s that patient. What is he, a saint? Unless he’s into terrible pick up lines or obnoxious behavior… Oh Arceus, what about all the things she said?! She said all of them without even thinking, because she was sure that would be the only time they speak or see eachother, but now she has to face the consequences of her actions, because she will see him soon enough. On a date.

Maybe she should just… not go? It’s not like they exchanged numbers or anything, neither did he know where she lives. They could both just… forget this ever happened, like a bad dream. Sure, this will haunt her whenever she tries to sleep at night, but… Well, ghosting him like that wouldn’t exactly be great either. But maybe it would be better this way? There’s no way he actually wants to go to a café with her, right?

Despite thinking all that though, Kate searches for her phone in her bag, to write down the time Ingo gave her, before she has the chance to forget it. Once she sets up a reminder, she stares at the clock on her phone screen intensely, as if trying to burn a hole in the poor device. Her heart is racing, her breathing was fast, as if she ran from the subway instead of just walking, and she feels like she’s shaking. The hand she is holding her in phone feels cold, despite the air around her being warm from the sun.

…Maybe she should actually go. If she just runs away now, then all of this cringe would be for nothing – she wouldn’t be able to let go of this, ever. And she does need to interact with more people than just her Pokémon and the cashiers at the grocery store… And it’s not like this would go anywhere too far, right? He’d see he doesn’t actually enjoy being around her that much, they go their separate ways, Kate stops thinking about him every single day, and all of this becomes a slightly less cringy memory for her.

She puts the phone away and walks home, to calm down, think less and maybe eat something. If she thinks about this too much, she might panic and move to a different region altogether again.

[vvatchword]

I'm so concerned that I'll NEVER finish a novel-sized anything.

I mean, technically, I have. I've finished about 23 novel-sized things. It's just that most of them are shitty and the one that wasn't shitty was still... not very good. A very long process, this. But the idea is, I would like to end a story and have that story be good all the way through. This is the dream. Doesn't matter how good the ride is if it terminates in a brick wall.

So my BioShock hyperfixation has been gradually winding down for the past... oh, two months? I have managed to ease my fall by sliding down the fireman's pole of "adjacent interests." Anyway, I'm heading toward a drawer period with this story--totally normal for me. Having a hyperfixation for a literal fucking year is the weird part. Just six more weeks and it will truly be that old. Unfortunately, it's a sign that nothing is quite right in my life, but at the same time, I ain't wastin this fuckin impetus, ok

Now consider this.

A Summer for Saya. TMNT fic. Leorai. Exceptionally cursed. I've known how it ends for years. I have easily written about 150,000 words just trying to get the thing to the finish line. I end up skidding on my face into a compost pile EVERY. FUCKING. TIME.

At this point I've formed a goddamn complex about the dumb fucking thing. And by forming a complex about Saya, I've formed a complex about Uprising. I'm terrified I won't complete it correctly or worse--at ALL. There's a reason I haven't posted much of Uprising: I do not want to get hamstrung by feeling like there are Expectations. It's Expectations that get me most hung up--no matter how I try to push them out of my mind.

I know very well what I must do: ease up :) Relax :)) Think about what's gonna be fun. Forget everybody but myself. Turn on the good music (or none at all). Go to a strange, new, and/or comfortable place and write with a coffee and a biscotti. Follow my excitement, my passion, whatever interests me. Go re-read some old comic books. Just read some books full-stop. Try to get excited about it. And so on.

It's at times like this that I remember a scene from Rick and Morty in that stupid-ass "Get Schwifty" episode, where Rick tells Morty that he has to stop worrying because that just fouls up the creative process. Granted, the final product is, "Take a shit on the floor," which may be a sort of wisdom in its own way, but I can't even take the goddamn shit. It's impossible to trick myself. I have no idea what to do. I am my own worst enemy.

One of the problems that hit me with Saya was that its drawer period came RIGHT AT THE END. Just right there at the climax. I was just done. We needed space from each other. And every time I come back, I'm just not able to get back into the right headspace.

So right now I feel like I have got to try and finish Only Man before the drawer slams shut or I may hit the same horrible, impermeable wall. My biggest fear is that it'll turn into a forever wall. This forever block. My own ability to screw up my own creative process so goddamn badly that nothing ever ends and I'm just writing and writing forever.

It may be good for me on a private level, but I'd love to share my work someday, you know? I'm proud of these things for a goddamn reason.

[loremonster]

When I write intimacy, it is never Just Physical or Just Emotional. Every touch has a motivation, every turn of the conversation revealing the relationship between the characters as they embrace or reject or shy from or are Over The Moon about being vulnerable with their partner(s). Again, this vulnerability is not solely physical, and written correctly a conversation about a subject that causes discomfort and Getting Through It Wanting To Do Better For The Other Person can be even more heart poundingly thrilling than a sexual encounter. High emotions still need to be addressed and managed in a relationship where no one is DTF but they are Ride Or Die.

Intimate moments can have both, in whatever measure works best with those characters. Who are they when all pretense and preformances are dropped? What do they communicate? How? Is it anguish that forces them to say it, or desperation? What do they fear, and how do they handle those insecure moments? What do they Want? Do they intend to persuade, hope to receive, hope to be asked, anxiety that they've got it all wrong and this whole thing is a misunderstanding?

Done right, stepping into the space of bonds that last one's whole life can express all parties involved in their rawest form; and then show what their synthisis does for them. Where releif is found, where anxiety gives way to security, when an enraging misunderstanding turns to emberassed tears and how soothing is provided.

Sex scenes go an extra step, but its also Not A Place every character wants to go. A character of mine, Jahta, eluded my understanding for more than a decade. Then I took another crack at his first appearance in the book and realized Oh My Stars He's Ace like'd he'd slapped me across the face 🤣 and after that, everything else about him snapped into place.

nothing but respect for our troops (smut writers) but listen. i dont want to be the person to tell you this, but not every character is going to be a dom or a sub. some people. and i know this is hard to hear. but some people do have vanilla sex. and some of those people might even be The Character.

[local-lesbrarian]

Sometimes You're Trying to Tell Yourself Something

We recently dug around our old files for a story we kinda remember writing for a college class that, if we recalled correctly, may have had some dissociation/system vibes.

And uh...yeah. It very much does. More than we thought when we went looking. It's about an emotionally repressed people pleaser and a "stranger" who's trying to get through to him but largely failing. And y'all. It's Lilith and Cass. And dissociative episodes, and blacking out when an alter takes over. And we called it "Identity."

The assignment was to emulate Joyce Carol Oates's "Where Are You Going, Where Have you Been," but we ended up with this kinda dark psychological "fable," as our professor put it. And it's about system stuff.

And we wrote it in 2015?!? Eight full years before we knew what we were! This is why we never get rid of anything. I think we've always known, on some level, that our writing is us trying to communicate to ourselves.

Full story (2,323 words) under the cut, if you're interested. Our writing has definitely changed a lot in the last nine years, but I still wouldn't call this a bad draft. Especially for 22.

A----- M-----

Emulation Workshop Draft

10/28/15

Identity

His name was Nik Lundstrom. He had a way of being constantly upbeat. It took effort, but no one else noticed. He was careful about that, knowing a façade of strength was better than a moment of weakness. He was rarely alone.

Nik was one of those freaks who was happy to help people move, driving a Blazer almost as old as he was back and forth across town. When his flatmate needed a ride home from a party, or when his cousin needed help with kinetics homework, or when his coworker at the gas station needed a shift covered, they called Nik. He wouldn’t say no.

He was a good listener, too, and very proud of that. He spent senior prom guiding his date through an emotional breakdown. His sister, Tress, would always call when their dad’s homophobia surfaced. The listening was never a façade. He might go through the motions giving people rides, but he found the emotional burdens easier. Maybe it was the stakes, or maybe he just liked connecting on that level. He sometimes wished he had someone to help him.

Nik didn’t much care for his flatmate, whose name was Michael. For one, Michael had finished college and just started at a law firm. Nik had wanted more from life than study and work. So had Michael, but somehow Michael managed to get high one night and pass his BAR the next. He probably could have moved somewhere better if he didn’t spend so much on drugs. Nik’s family knew Michael’s, and always asked Nik why he didn’t just buckle down and get through those last few semesters like his successful lease partner. Nik deflected and derailed such questions.

The closest his friends got to seeing that positive outlook crack was when he talked to them about Michael. “He’s an asshole without realizing it.” Nik wanted to say things like “Michael’s existence screws me,” but had to hold those sentiments. Saying such things would only make it all worse.

Nik had the night off one Wednesday, a real night off. For once, he took it, getting out of the city lights. He sat on a guardrail over an inky crevasse, a not-quite-sheer descent to the waters of Lake Michigan shining silver under the moon. His Blazer sat dark and cold and empty in the lot that was dark and cold and empty, if only for this one night.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from his sister.

“Thanks for last night,” it said.

“Anytime. Dad will come around,” he sent back. Then he turned his phone off. He just really needed this one night.

He couldn’t avoid a twinge of annoyance when someone else sat on the guardrail, a few feet to his left. He should have been startled—he hadn’t heard anyone coming—but the only mild surprise came from his own calm. Even in the moonlight and fluorescent glow from the lot, he couldn’t make out much of the other’s face or features. Physicality was there—the other existed, but vaguely, as though out of focus. He could see straight black hair, a matching dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves. On one exposed forearm was some twisting tattoo, maybe a snake, and an antique-looking gold watch. The stranger wore sunglasses, dark aviators with a bit of red tint.

“It is a nice night,” the Aviator said with a voice both flat and smooth.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Nice night for a break,” the Aviator said.

He just nodded, trying to focus on the Lake.

“You don’t recognize me?”

“No. Sorry.” He tried to sound disinterested.

“Figures.”

The Aviator lit a cigarette and took a long draw. When the smoke wafted over, he held his breath, denying the pleasure secondhand gave him. Instead, he produced a cough, feigning irritation.

“Been clean for a while now, eh?” the Aviator said.

“Yeah,” he replied before his thoughts caught up. How did this person know he’d ever smoked? Who was this stranger? Was this a stranger?”

“Two years now, by my count,” the Aviator said, turning to glance at him for just a moment, and the sunglasses dropped an inch.

He recognized something familiar, but couldn’t place it. The exposed eyes, maybe? The Aviator pushed the shades back up and turned back, and he forgot what sparked the recognition. As he continued to watch, the obscurity seemed to spread from the Aviator. The guardrail blurred. The sound of wind through pines dulled, and the waves became even more muted than distance alone should dictate. He shook his head and went back to the Lake, and everything returned to normal—as normal as they could be. He must have been more tired than he thought, if reality was now tinged with the surreal.

“Tsh. You really don’t know me,” the Aviator said, taking another long draw. “Makes this a bit of a one-sided conversation.”

“Are we having a conversation?”

He kept his eyes on the Lake, using its immensity as a focus.

“That was the plan.” The Aviator took another long draw.

He risked a peripheral glance, and saw the cigarette was more than half-gone. How long had they been sitting there? It crossed his mind to check the time, but didn’t dare take out his phone. He was scared. He was afraid to break the silence—afraid of what else the Aviator might know. The night was cool, especially near the water, but he felt feverish. A cold sweat percolated between his goosebumps.

“That was the plan,” the Aviator said again.

Without turning, he knew the Aviator was facing him.

“Are you ready?”

“For what? I still don’t—”

“You don’t seem ready. No problem. It looks like we’re out of time, for now.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Yellow light appeared from behind, casting the Aviator in even deeper darkness. Gravel crunched as another vehicle entered the lot.

The Aviator stood, flicked his cigarette over the slope, and started down the road. “I’ll see you later. Don’t worry—we’ll talk again real soon.”

He watched the Aviator go, even as he heard a car door open and close.

“Nik?” said Grant. “Hey man, fancy that. I was just stopping to take a piss.”

Nik rose from the rail and turned to his coworker from the gas station. He glanced down the road, but the other was gone.

Grant was on his way to a bar the next town over, and invited Nik to join him and some friends. Nik acquiesced. Whatever peace he had that night was broken well before. He thought he might have been able to find it again, but had no excuse for a raincheck. He didn’t mention the other to Grant. He didn’t tell anyone about the encounter over the next few days, as he resumed his routine accommodating. His dad threatened to cut off Tress’s financial aid, and Nik had to reassure her. “Mom wouldn’t let him,” he told her. He helped Grant move from a dingy apartment to a stale townhouse. Michael received his first paycheck and bought a $100 bottle of Scotch to share with his law school friends.

On Friday, Nik went out with his parents for Italian. They asked what he’d been up to. His mom said he should visit more often, or at least call. They didn’t understand that if he wanted to feel like a twenty-something dropout with no forward momentum, he could just hang out with Michael—not that he could just say that. Instead, he told his parents about the tutoring, the working, the bar, the move.

“Well, at least you help people out,” his dad said. “That’s good. But why can’t you help yourself out, like Michael does? Jan says he’s a practicing lawyer now.”

That wasn’t totally true. The way Michael put it, he was still closer to a paid intern. But Nik just nodded and ate his linguini for two slurping minutes.

“Where’s Tress?” he asked.

His dad grunted. His mom said Tress was out with her girlfriend.

“Her whore, you mean,” his dad said. His mom shot a look, but his dad didn’t relent. “Tress could have been here, but chooses to hang out with those dykes instead of her own family.”

Nik clenched his fork, but still held composure. “So, you invited her, then?”

His dad looked at him; his mom looked down.

“And you wonder why,” Nik muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Nik’s parents invited him to a party Saturday, some kind of retirement thing for his dad’s boss. They said Michael and his parents would be there, too. He said he wasn’t interested.

“That’s fine,” his dad said, but in a voice like a machine under stress that heralded some future passive-aggression. His mom stayed quiet; she had spoken her piece already.

Nik did dress up a bit Saturday night, but not for the party. He shrugged at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He supposed he just wanted the feeling of clean hair. He got in his old Blazer and drove to the Lake again, but to a different spot. This one was low and close to the water. He still needed a night to himself, but wanted something to drown out the silence. Waves broke on the rocks as he got out of his car and lounged onto a bench. Even over the white noise, though, he heard footsteps. Christ, was that Grant again? He couldn’t do the bar again tonight.

“Am I late?” said a voice both flat and smooth.

He craned his neck and saw the strange person from that strange night, wearing the same black shirt, dusky-red aviators, and venerable gold watch. Except this time, there was another—dirtier, with some ratty sport coat and smaller sunglasses. The new one looked everywhere but the bench.

“Am I late?” the Aviator asked again.

“Don’t know.” He tried to match the flat tone, covering his anxiety with apathy. “What for?”

“Still haven’t caught on?”

“To what?”

The Aviator laughed a little, sitting down at the other end of the bench. “Should we continue our conversation? We didn’t really get started last time.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“I don’t know you.”

“262-65-2548,” the other said.

He felt a pit open up at the recitation of his social security number.

“Twenty-five years old,” the other said. “Three cousins on the father’s side, five on the mother’s. A sister—though your father would beg to differ on that.”

He tried to stand up, but slid down instead, onto the cold sand and dewy beach grass.

“Hey man, I’m your friend tonight. Nothing to worry about.”

The other night, he was just a bit tired. But now, he was definitely freaking out. Losing motor control. Hallucinating. Just too much this week, was all. These strangers could be real, some kind of stalkers, but then why were they so blurry? Why could he sense the night growing darker? This must be what blacking out feels like. The others weren’t there—couldn’t be. He was alone.

“I’m still here,” the Aviator said, now also on the ground.

He hadn’t heard any movement, or seen the stranger move in his periphery. “I should get going,” he said.

“No, let’s talk.”

The one in the sport coat shuffled through the sand, nervously, still not looking at the bench. “You want me to slash his tires?”

The Aviator clenched a fist. “Shut your wordhole!” Then the Aviator relaxed, said not to mind the new one, mumbling some name he didn’t catch. Said the new one was just high, and wouldn’t slash any tires.

“I’m leaving,” he said, struggling against the encroaching gloom. “I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Things.”

“Like that party? It’s a bust. No action there.”

“How do you even know?”

“I know who’s there. Your folks; Michael Allenson; Mr. and Mrs. Allenson; Justin Kiser; Anna Ramirez—Tress’s gal. I know everybody.”

“You don’t know me,” he said through the increasing constriction in his chest. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

The Aviator lit up a cigarette. “I know you.”

“What’s my name, then? You know all this other shit, all these other names—what’s mine?”

Sportcoat broke into hysteric laughter.

“You’re crazy,” the Aviator said. “More of a caricature than a character.”

Sportcoat shuffled off, and the Aviator answered the question.

“What’s your name? Names have little use here. As for who you are—well, that you have to tell yourself. Maybe if you gave yourself one honest look, you’d figure out who I am, too. Who we are, I should say.”

“I’m leaving. I could leave right now.”

“But you won’t. You don’t want to. It’s so much easier to let others tell you what you want. Who you are. You’re afraid of real choices. They interrupt your precious routine, challenge your identity, channel your blame to yourself when you inevitably hit the ground. God forbid you do something to help yourself.”

The night deepened as the Aviator spoke. Everything grew duller—every sense decaying into grey and umber. The wind died. The Lake died. The meager light died. He couldn’t remember where his car was, or what kind it was. He tried to stand. He willed his arms to push, his feet to set themselves under him, but nothing moved. His chest tightened further. There was no sound but the Aviator’s voice, not even the rustle of clothes from trembling limbs. He was suffocating on the night, choking on the howling dark, the screaming silence around them.

“Tell me what I want,” he managed to say.

“You want to stay here, where neither of us know your name.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

The Aviator, removing the shades and locking his gaze. “Wrong question.”

“Who am I?”

“The fearful part of me.”

The Aviator blinked, and Nik was gone.

[caelans-got-opinions]

@estrangeloedessa

Wow, thank you! Lol, I wasn't actually expecting anyone to vibe with my headcanons on Jack - y'know, with him being a pretty minor character in a small fandom. But hey, since I'm here, I'd be happy to share a few more about Jack by himself (especially since he's one of my favorite characters):

As stated above, I wholeheartedly believe this man to be pathetic with finances. He had to sell magical items for cash, and he's mentioned to have gambled some away as well. If he hadn't been coasting through his early life on finances earned from killing giants, he'd maybe have picked up more practical skills managing money - basically, I think the fame stunted him in that department.

I personally headcanon that Jack was only around Sabrina's age when "Jack and the Beanstalk" took place (probably twelve years old). At the very least, I think he was young enough that he hadn't learned to appreciate life outside of the glory and wealth that he got after killing his first giant. Like, I don't think the lessons that normally come from growing up in poverty were instilled in him.

If I remember correctly, none of the versions of Jack and the Beanstalk that I read ever mentioned Jack's father. So I don't think it'll be controversial to say that I headcanon Jack having been raised by a single mother. I've never really considered whether I think that Jack's dad was dead or that he just abandoned his family. Unless Jack's father was a lot like his son in personality, though, I guess my bet is that Jack's mom was a widow.

gay gay homosexual gay

Oh sorry, I should elaborate on that last point. Jack makes my gaydar go off. I think he's a gay man. I think he likes tall guys with a sense of adventure and a bit of mischief to them. (He'd simp for Jake if they met in canon, on gods. Watch this man do a magic trick and grow a moral compass in record time because Handsome Man. It's not really morals with that kinda motivation, but it's better than *gestures vaguely at everything Jack did in book one* that.)

I think Jack might have had some morals before Ferryport Landing. Like, I think he would have planted a magic bean for the attention of killing a giant even pre-Ferryport but I don't think he would have attempted to murder children before 200 years of being trapped in the town. I don't think that he was necessarily a good person, but I think Ferryport Landing would have broken him down into the awful person he is in book one.

I think Jack was one of the Everafters who got mentally wrecked the hardest by being trapped in the barrier. He's shown to love excitement and danger in the book (like the magic carpet ride), and I believe he's probably the curious, adventurous type. So, y'know... pretty much one of the worst things that could happen to that kind of person would be, say, being stuck in a small town for centuries, not knowing when you'll be able to see the world again.

In the books, Jack says that he sold the Shoes of Swiftness. You know who's in possession of the Shoes of Swiftness? Jake. (Don't know if Buckley changed that in the anniversary editions, but I'm going on the originals because I am not buying the new editions.) So a loooong, long time ago, I came up with the headcanon that Jack and Jake knew each other before Jake left and Relda hit the whole town with forgetful dust. I like to think that maybe they were friends back then, and Jack might have ended up leaving the Scarlet Hand if either a) he hadn't forgotten Jake, or b) Jake had come back to town before the events of book one.

I believe Jack is alive and locked up in a prison in the giant kingdom. At least, not taking into account my own OC above, who I, again, wrote as having broken Jack out. Also not taking into account the fanfic I've wanted to write for a long while where Jake negotiates for Jack's freedom and hopes to undo the effects of the forgetful dust to get the bestie back. (If he can forgive The Queen of Hearts, he can forgive Jack.)

Jack's mom has been dead for a long time, and one of the first things he'd do after getting out of Ferryport Landing would be to return to the little pile of wood that used to be his childhood home and tend to his mother's grave. (And he'd be happy to see that there are still wild buttercups growing around the home. I don't remember where I came up with the idea of this, but I imagine Jack's mother having liked yellow flowers, and yellow being his favorite color because of that.)

Though I believe Jack would still miss his mother, I think he'd be all smiles and laughter while visiting her grave. I think he'd laugh and say "Oh, she'd skin me if she saw the state of this gravestone!" I think that Jack would believe that his mom would want to see him smiling and happy.

So that's what I've got!

Everyone else in the Sisters Grimm fandom: Well-thought-out criticisms about the books, great fanart and fanfic, excellent posts diving into character psychology and points I never even considered.

Me at 3 am: What if I put Jack the Giant Killer in a gay situationship?

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hi! May I request a GN!Human Aircraft maintenance technician X Yandere TFP!Starscream, maybe they find him and fix him up and he decides to take them with him to be his own personal medic?

Yandere Starscream X Aircraft Maintenance Technician

I have 0 clue about jets other than hehe go fast, so the terminology will be pretty rough. Also I was fucking HYPE to write this one y’all.

You worked on aircrafts- and you were damn good at it. Not only were you good at it, but it was your passion. Everyday you get excited to get to your job. You had been doing this for three years as a civilian contractor, so you had ties to the military but weren’t technically part of it. 

The aircraft you were currently working on was a F-16. It was a gorgeous jet, one you’d love to have gone on a ride in. You gently checked around the jet for the problem, seeing that the pre ignition wasn’t firing off correctly. You got up on a tall ladder to fix the issue. You never noticed a huge robot making its way into the base.

Starscream was looking for anything to repair himself after a fight with M.E.C.H.. The organization was extremely pesky and annoying, and they had actually managed to injure him this time. He froze when he saw a tiny human repairing a jet. He looked curious at what the human was doing and stood directly behind them. 

You never noticed the huge bot standing behind you as you worked. When you made your way down the ladder you noticed the pole that wasn’t there before. You slowly looked up to see a huge robot smirking down at you. In an attempt to run away you stumbled over an air compressor and tumbled to the ground with a yelp. 

The robot clicked his tongue at you and laughed. “Well, I never knew you insects were capable of repairing something such as this. I suppose it’s only natural for you to accomplish minor sciences such as this.”

A lump was heavy in your throat. You were stumped at what to say, staring in fear and awe at the sight of him. “W-h-,” you gulped, “What are you?”

The robot laughed again, amused by your stupor. “I am a Cybertronian, from the planet Cybertron- go on, you may bow at your superior.”

Instantly, you felt irritation flood your body. While you didn’t know much about him other than he was a giant alien robot, you knew that he was an arrogant prick. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling. 

“How dare you roll your optics at me, fleshling?!” 

“Fleshling? Oh, if we’re slinging insults- why are you shaped like a long toaster?”

An offended sneer grew on his face. “I don’t know what a toaster is, but I am NOT one! I should squash you right where you stand!” He went to slam a hand onto you, but he grunted and grabbed his side in pain. 

You felt slightly bad for it. “Are you…okay?”

His face twisted into a snarl, but then he paused. He looked from you to the jet and then to the tool in your hand. “You are… a medic?”

You blinked. “Uh, I’m an aircraft maintenance technician.” You backed up slightly at the grin that covered his face. His sharp talons descended on you and snatched you off of the ground.

Screams filled the air as you were lifted by your hoodie. “Silence, human!” You shook with fear but grew quiet as the robot’s tone calmed down. “You will repair me, and perhaps I will spare your pathetic life.”

“A-and if I don’t?” The robot tightened its grip on you and you nodded quickly, getting the picture. He could use one finger and turn you into a puddle.

As he put you down and you got your tools, you wondered if you could even repair him. He sat down with a loud clang that startled you. When you began repairs, you noticed the symbol on his chest.

“So… got a name? And what’s that symbol?” You asked as you inspected the damage- it looked simple enough to repair.

The large robot huffed and puffed out his chest. “My name is Lord Starscream, a powerful Decepticon. This is the symbol of our great Decepticon race.” 

“... I see.” You thought that it was weird that he called himself ‘Lord’. It must be a weird power thing. It was clear to you that he wasn’t friendly, though. You just wanted to finish this repair and get out of here.

After welding one area shut gently, you finished. You backed away. “Okay, all done.” 

Starscream stood up, moving his body. He nodded slightly in approval, before glancing at you again. “For a fleshy you did… a decent job. Though not as good as I would have.”

Your eye twitched slightly. “Then why didn’t you do it yourself, if you’re so good at it?” 

He stammered for a moment before huffing in anger. “It was a weird angle! I could have done it myself, but why would I waste my time when I can make someone else do it?!” A threatening step was made towards you, crashing into the ground loudly. Your body fell to the ground. Fear consumed you. 

“O-okay, I get it!” You gulped. “I did what you asked, so let me go!”

Starscream looked thoughtful for a moment. A wicked look spread across his face as he laughed loudly with his raspy voice. “Ah, but perhaps you can still be of use!” 

When he reached out, you jumped up to run away. If you just got further in the hangar, you were sure he couldn’t reach in there or follow you. Ducking under his hand, you slid into the doorway. He waved his hand in the door as far as it could go - it almost reminded you of when someone tried to grab a pickle from a jar.

As you ran through, he shouted at you in a language you knew wasn’t from Earth. You ran to the otherside of the hangar to get out and to your car- you saw the missiles on him, and you wouldn’t stand a chance if you stayed there. 

Fumbling the phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number- your handler, Agent Louis. He picked up after the fourth ring. “What the hell do you want, this better be good seeing that it’s five in the mo-” 

“LOUIS! I’m being fucking chased, I need backup NOW! It’s some kind of robot thing- it’s heavily armed!” You turned the keys, changing the gear. You slammed on the clutch, accelerating at such a fast pace your head spun.

You could hear shuffling. “Where are you? Coordinates!” 

“I don’t know!” you sobbed, “I’m near the base somewhere, going towards the woods- I think if I can get there I can ditch the car and hide!”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up now-”

“No! Don’t ditch me you asshole!” 

“I have to call reinforcements! Just get to the woods and hide!” 

With that, you were alone to your racing thoughts. You heard loud slamming behind you and you looked in your mirror.-Starscream was destroying the base to look for you. He then noticed your Jeep driving away as fast as it would go and did something that shocked you to your core- he changed into a harrier jet to pursue you. 

Your foot lifted slightly on the clutch for a moment in shock, until you snapped out of your stupor and slammed on it again, driving to the woods. You were so close- but you knew deep down you couldn’t outrun a jet. 

The high-pitched sound of a jet echoed in your ears as Starscream pulled ahead of your Jeep. You slammed on the brakes as he transformed before your very eyes. The Jeep was going to flip, but Starscream caught it in his claws. 

You didn’t realize you were screaming until he yelled at you to shut up. His claws scratched along the car, making a horrible noise. Your hands raised up to cover your ears. 

When you looked up, Starscream had a smug look on his face. “Truly, you flesh creatures are such ignorant creatures. Did you really think you could escape me, a superior being?” His claw reached out and trailed against your cheek. “You’re lucky you’re of use to me, or I would have crushed you into paste.”

You shook with fear as he cut the seatbelt with his claw, pulling you out of the car. He transformed and threw you into the air. You landed in the seat of his jet-form and he flew off into the early morning.