#I really should just finish that first date fic in my drafts

[jonathanbyersphd]

Feeling like pure shit just want them back

[changbunnies]

Hopelessly Devoted To You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Greaser!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

♡ Genre: grease inspired 50s au, some angst and fluff, this was supposed to be a long full length fic but it somehow became just porn with plot lol

♡ Word Count: 11.2k

♡ Summary: You were so excited to see him again– the guy you'd spent your entire summer with, entagled in a fleeting but explosively sweet romance. But the Chris you meet again isn't the one you remember, and now if he wants to win you back he's going to have to prove just how devoted to you he really is.

♡ Warnings: chan is referred to as chris, smoking (cigarettes), some misogyny + toxic masculinity + fuck boy behavior, some 50s references and lingo, 1 instance of reader shoving chan in a fit of anger / sadness, jealous and mildly possessive chan, minor appearances from felix, changbin, minho, and hyunjin (who goes by sam)

♡ Smut Warnings: 1 reference to reader losing their virginity to chan, references / flashbacks to other smut scenes before the main scene, light dom/sub dynamics, switch!chan, pet names (doll, sugar, baby), public sex, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f rec, referenced m rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, daddy kink, panty stealing (kind of), squirting, 1 mention of reader having pubic hair, maybe a lil breeding kink??, protected piv

♡ Notes: i've had this sitting in my drafts since december and finally got around to finishing it gfdhgfh this is incredibly self indulgent as grease is one of my fave movies ever and chan as danny zuko is constantly rattling around in my brain. the build up is pretty short (by my usual standards) as i moved the plot along a lot quicker than i normally would so idk if it's my best work but hopefully you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You remember well the first time you met Chris. Lounging aimlessly at the beach with the sunset on the horizon, his feet in the sand with a silver dog tag necklace hanging low over his bare chest, a cigarette from his previously discarded jeans held between his lips. Fresh from the ocean with beads of water still dripping off his toned body, slicking back his damp hair before fumbling through a different pocket for his lighter.

You watched him bring it up to his face after successfully digging it out, cupping his other hand around it to protect the flame as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. You watched him take a long drag, watched him blow the smoke out from the corners of his mouth, watched him sigh before deciding to towel dry his legs enough to wrangle his jeans back on. 

The beach had been quickly growing sparse by the time you spotted him. Groups of friends clearing out to make it to the local diner before all the tables were filled, parents wanting to get their kids to bed before the moon fully rose in the sky, couples on double dates bunching up in one car as they decide to hit the drive-in together.

You yourself were in no rush to leave– you came alone, tired of your parents bickering during what was supposed to be a fun family vacation. You’d stay as long as you could, you’d decided– really soak in the peace the sea brings before returning to your aunt’s beach house, where you were all staying for the summer.

But safe to say, the sight of him enraptured you. He was handsome, devastatingly so– you never expected to see a man with a visage to rival even that of James Dean himself with your own eyes, but there he was before you; and your heart stuttered when he glanced over in your direction.

He had just finished pulling his jeans up and over his haunches when he noticed you, cocking a brow when your eyes met– and you could tell in an instant that he knew you’d been staring at him. His smile made your breath hitch, pretty dimples peeking out on his cheeks as he acknowledged you with a playful wave.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hand and waved back, and he grinned, eyes still locked on yours as he pulled up the zipper of his jeans. He turned back to his belongings on the ground, shook the sand out of his white tee before pulling it on. He grabbed his leather jacket, slung it over his shoulder before turning to look at you once more.

You swallowed, face running hot from his gaze alone– you hoped, as he began walking towards you, that you could play it off as having not put on enough sunscreen before coming here. You were sitting on a towel, legs to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, but you lowered them as he approached you.

He tossed his cigarette to the the side once he was close, letting its flame fizzle out in the sand. He looked you up and down when you stood up, introducing himself with a charismatic smile that made your heart race faster. You stuttered when speaking, and his smile widened, one of his hands going to rest in the pocket of his jeans while the other kept his leather jacket in place over his shoulder. 

Chris was the most, to say the least– and when he asked if he’d see you again tomorrow, you promised him he would. You watched him walk over to a beat up, old top down cadillac, throwing his jacket into the car before jumping in– literally jumping in, hand on top of the closed car door as he hopped over it into the driver's seat. 

He gave you another glance after starting the ignition, and you smiled meekly as you offered him another wave. Chris grinned, raising his hand to say goodbye before putting it back on the wheel and burning rubber out of the parking lot.

You spent nearly every summer day with him after that. Days at the beach spent splashing each other in the water while you giggled, hopping in his cadillac to go catch whatever new flick was showing, or sharing a milkshake at his favorite diner. He’d hold your hand as you walked through the sand, giggled with you over silly inside jokes while eating burgers and fries, hugged you tight after you gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.

Chris gave you dimes to pick tunes on the jukebox, and would sing along to your selections with the prettiest voice you’d ever heard. He took you to the county fair, would shoot you goofy grins after kissing you with lips sticky from cotton candy, got on the ferris wheel with you and squeezed your hand when the height made you dizzy, kissing away your nerves when you reached the very top.

He won you a teddy bear from the soda toss, put his leather jacket over your shoulders when the sun set and the air began to chill, wrapped his arm around your shoulder while you were waiting in line to buy some popcorn. He’d lean down to whisper a joke in your ear, and you’d slap his arm with a giggle while he squeezed you closer.

You watched him soup up the engine of his car, and he’d take your hand after a long day of working on it, pull you in to dance with him while the radio blared the hippest tunes. When he was satisfied with the restoration of his cadillac, he started taking you out on long drives, wind whipping through your hair as he drove fast through the back streets of the city.

He’d drive you to secluded hills overlooking the city, where you’d make out until he had to drive you home in time for curfew. He’d park his car far down the street, away from where your family could see him dropping you off– because Lord knows your mother's heart would give out if she saw you spending your vacation with a guy that looked like him.

And through it all, days spent back at the beach where you first met him were always your favorite. You would let Chris lay you down on a towel in the sand and kiss you over and over, until you were both heaving and hot. You lost your virginity to him like that– alone on the beach, towels laid down and moon high in the sky after having snuck out of the window of your guest bedroom to meet him.

He’d whisper sweet words in your ear, make you fall apart with deft fingers and an equally deft tongue. Sometimes, instead of sneaking out to see him, he’d be the one showing up at your guest room's window, grinning at you as you opened it to let him in. He’d fuck you there, in the bed with his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of pleasure, lest your family discover what it is you’re really up to while "alone" in your room. 

Chris would crawl over to you in the passenger seat at the drive-in, sink to his knees and dip his head underneath your long poodle skirt, the flick on screen long forgotten as he pulled your panties to the side to kiss and lick your dripping pussy. Sometimes he’d fuck you there too, parked all the way in back with the windows and hood of the car up to hide what you were doing (as if the rocking didn’t give it away to anyone who happened to look.)

Sometimes, when he parked up the street to drop you off after sharing ice cream at the drive thru malt shop, you’d lean over the gear shift, taking his cock out of his jeans and sucking him off right there, with not nearly enough care for who could possibly see you. He’d give you the sweetest kiss before helping you out of the car, promising he’d see you tomorrow too, and the day after, and the day after that, until eventually your family’s summer vacation had to come to an end.

Chris was a dreamboat that day, as he always was– hair greased back with a few curly strands left over his forehead, loose black tee tucked into his jeans, leather jacket on with its collar ever so slightly popped, his dog tag necklace sparkling when the sun hit it just right. He was leaning against the door of his newly souped up cadillac with a lit cigarette resting between his lips, though he promptly threw it to the ground when he saw you walking over.

“There’s my girl! And ain’t she a doll,” he grinned as he pulled you to his body, kissing you sweetly as you blushed. You weren’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen you in before– just one of your usual white blouses and pretty pink skirts, but he always made sure to tell you that he thought you were the absolute most.

He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door for you and closed it shut behind you when you got in. He hopped into the driver’s seat after, starting the ignition and turning to you with that beaming smile that made your stomach flip. “What’s the plan today, sugar?” he asked, throwing his arm around you while leaving one hand on the steering wheel.

In the end, you spent the day as you had many times before– driving through the city, hitting up the diner to split a strawberry milkshake, and watching the sunset at the beach; the same beach where you met him, and where the house you were staying in lied just a couple hundred yards away. You were sitting on the rocks, his leather jacket off and resting behind you, his arm curled around your waist. 

His jeans were filthy with sand, as was your skirt, but neither of you cared– you just stayed there together, watching the sun sink lower and the waves crash against the shore. Chris kissed you when you looked up at him with watery eyes, agonized over the idea of never seeing him again. He’d given you the best summer of your entire life, and all you wanted was to stay– but you couldn’t. And though he comforted you the best he could, you both knew it was the end.

Chris held your hand to help you off the rocks, gave you a kiss before you turned away to make the walk to your aunt’s beach house. And you both knew it was the end– but not just yet. He came to your window later that night, and you let him in, bringing your hands to his face and eagerly pressing your lips to his.

He walked you back to the bed as you kissed him, laid you back gently and crawled between your legs. He made you cum on his fingers before reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled it easily down his cock, his jeans having fallen down his legs just enough to let him fuck you.

You reached your hands underneath his shirt, hungrily tracing your hands over every inch of his skin. Your nightgown was bunched above your thighs, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eventually pulled the top of it down too, exposing your chest to him and leaving your stomach as the only covered part of your body.

Sweat dripped from his brow, his normally perfectly slicked hair tousled from your fingers sliding through it– and you didn't care that the pomade in his hair dirtied your fingers; in fact, it made it feel nicer when you brought your hand to one of your breasts, and rolled your nipples between them. Your stomach flipped when he grinned and called you a dirty girl, running a hand through his hair to grease up his fingers too and tweak the other nipple not being played with by your own.

He kissed you to muffle your moans and desperate whines, and it was nowhere near as effective as when it was his hand clamped over your mouth, but it was better. He had to slow down when fucking you fast unintentionally made your bedframe slam against the wall, and you gasped, praying no one woke up from the sound.

Thankfully, no one came knocking on your door– and though you were both desperate, clinging to one another hard and sliding your tongues around each other’s with fervor, he fucked you slow and deep after that. "Chris, daddy, please– 'm gonna cum," you moaned when he brought his slicked up fingers to your clit. 

Chris groaned before kissing you again, and you came with a muffled cry, your nails digging desperately into his biceps. He kept rolling his hips into you through it, your body trembling with sensitivity until he eventually came too, all his cum spilling into the condom. 

He stayed for a while after that, holding you close and wiping tears from your eyes with his thumbs. He snuck out in the middle of the night, promised you despite it all that it wasn’t the end– you’d see each other again someday, he just knew it; he wanted you to believe it too.

You got a couple of hours of sleep before morning, and gave your family the best smile you could manage as you tossed your luggage in the trunk of your dad's chevy bel air. You slouched in the back seat, trying not to cry and wishing more than anything you were in Chris’ old cadillac instead.

The Chris you reunited with wasn’t yours, and if it was, then fate was cruel for bringing you back to him.

The Chris you knew wouldn’t have looked at you like that– like you’re a desperate and fast girl, or an overly smitten near stranger hoping to get her kicks from him one last time while his friends snickered behind him. The Chris you knew wouldn’t join in on their snickering, tilting his head with an amused expression, tongue poking his cheek as he combs his fingers through his slicked back hair.

The Chris you reunited with wasn't yours, and the realization that you didn't really know him the way you thought you did utterly broke your heart.

You were back in the city– your parents, after having settled whatever marital disputes they were having, decided to settle down here. They loved their time together in the city when all their little tiffs were said and done, and they could tell you loved it here too.

They thought it’d benefit everyone to set up shop somewhere new, where everyone could reset. Plus, your mom wanted to be close to her sister again– and you certainly wouldn’t complain about spending more time at your aunt’s beach house.

You desperately wanted to see Chris again, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before you did– unlike you, he grew up in the city, lived here his entire life. And while it’d been months since you parted at the end of summer considering your parents had to do a lot of work to shift the family business to a new location while also looking for a decent house up for sale, it would happen eventually– you were certain of it.

And soon enough you did see him, knew in an instant it was him even at a distance– because you’d recognize his restored cadillac anywhere. He was leaning against the car door like usual, cigarette in his mouth and leather jacket on his back, with a circle of friends around him. You never met his friends– he told you they were pigs, said that you wouldn’t like them much.

Besides, you were only going to be in town a few short months– why waste your precious few days hanging around with other people when you could be alone? That’s what he always told you– and as you tentatively began to walk up the street closer to them, you could tell they certainly did talk more vulgarly than you were used to hearing.

“C’mon man, you gotta let me borrow her,” one of his friends begged in reference to his car, “she’s a real pussy wagon. My chick’ll cream if I pick her up in it.” “Get your own wheels, bozo,” Chris shoved him with a laugh, “I ain’t lettin’ you take my girl on any joyrides.”

“What if you come too? Make it a double date, you know– and nobody’s got bigger tits than Annette. I got dibs, but she’ll be real nice eye candy for you,” his friend persuaded and Chris hummed, as if seriously considering it. Would he really go?

“Mm, maybe,” he grinned, tossing his cigarette to the ground and digging it into the gravel with his foot, “You do got a point. Tell her to bring a pretty friend, and I’ll think about it.” You blinked, stopped walking and simply stared at him. Had he moved on already? It’d only been a few months, but maybe you fell for him harder than he fell for you; the thought of it made your heart sink to your stomach.

His friend cheered and hugged him tight, and Chris pushed him away with another laugh, running a hand through his hair to fix it up as he characteristically did whenever it got even the slightest bit out of shape. In that same moment is when he glanced over in your direction, catching sight of you by pure coincidence.

His eyes widened when he saw you, mouth gaping open for a split second before he called your name in a mix of utter shock and joy. That was more like the Chris you knew– and it gave you hope. You ran up to him, and he to you, bringing his hands to your shoulders and touching you up and down your arms– truly, he couldn’t believe you were here, and he had to touch you to be certain it was real. 

“What– what are you doing here? I-I thought you went back home with your folks, I thought–” he was smiling, entirely giddy as he looked you up and down. “We moved! I’m here to stay,” you told him excitedly, bouncing on your heels as you stared up at him.

It made you so, so happy; to the point that the contents of his prior conversation entirely lifted from your mind. It pains you thinking back to how naive and lovesick for him you were– you wish you'd have known better. 

“I can’t believe it! I–” he started to exclaim, but then realized his friends followed him, crowding around his back while shooting him inquisitive looks, and he quickly took his hands off you.

He cleared his throat, tucked his hands in his pockets in a gesture meant to bring him back to his aloof state of being, and he grinned– not that pretty grin that made your heart flutter, but a wicked one. “I mean– that’s cool, baby.”

You didn’t like it, your brows furrowing at the change in his demeanor. “Christopher–” you started, but one of his friends spoke up before you could talk much more. “Who’s the chick?” he asked as he looked you up and down, and Chris hesitated. “Oh, uh–”

“Oh, I know!” the friend suddenly exclaimed, hit by an epiphany, “the one from the beach you wouldn’t let us meet– the one who puts out. This her? It is, isn’t it?”

Your face burned red, unpleasant heat crawling over your body as the rest of his friends snickered. He told them you put out? Why would he do that? Your expression crumbled, body trembling with embarrassment and grief, but Chris kept his own cool.

“Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t tell them all the horny details,” he smirked, and his friends' snickers erupted into full on laughs as they slapped his back in amusement. Your body burned hot with indignation, eyes welling with tears as your frustration and anguish boiled over. You shoved him as hard as you could, though it hardly even caused him to take a step back.

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on you, you– you creep!” you cried before turning away, ready to run back home to throw the teddy bear he won you in the trash and sob into your pillows. “That’s not all she laid on him,” one of his friends commented under his breath, the rest laughing and hooting as you sprinted away from them, back down the street.

Chris just watched, body tense and face sullen, heart twisting in his chest. He watched you turn the corner, wiping tears from your eyes before you disappeared entirely out of view, his friends still laughing and giving him pats on the back.

But when he turned to them, he put the smirk back on, and they all hopped into his car to hit the drive-in as if he didn't care about what just happened with you, as if the guilt wasn't going to eat away at him every night.

The next time Chris sees you is weeks later, at a new mom-and-pop shop freshly opened on the edge of the city. He’s there with his friends, all of them jumping out his cadillac before he’s even fully parked, rushing inside to grab a good table.

And when he walks in, it’s not his friends that he sees first but you– sitting at a booth with another guy across from you. There's an empty plate with tiny remnants of ketchup still left behind that he just knows you used for your french fries, and a milkshake between you with two straws stuck in it.

Part of him is relieved you aren’t sharing a single straw with the man like you would’ve done with him, but his gut still twists from the sight regardless. And when you giggle at something indiscernible the guy says, Chris feels liquid hot envy boil in his blood, jaw tightening and fists clenching as he cracks his neck. 

“Chris, over here!” his best pal, Felix, calls from across the shop, and that’s when you see him too. You can’t help but look when you hear his name called, eyes widening when they land on him. He tenses, eyes lingering on you for a few seconds longer before he inevitably joins his friends at the table they scouted out in the middle of the room.

He can't focus on anything his friends are saying– the only thing he vaguely hears through the fog in his brain is Changbin begging the others for spare nickels so he can afford the dog-sled delight. It all becomes tuned out noise, because all he can think about is how much he missed you, and how much it pisses him off that you're here with someone else.

It's Chris' own fault, he knows that, and that makes the feeling even worse– like bile in his throat that he can't swallow down. It doesn’t take Minho, the most perceptive of his friend group, to notice that he’s staring at you and to comment on it.

“What, you still hung up on that chick?” he questions, and Chris scoffs as he snaps out of his fog, leaning back in his chair and acting as aloof as he can bring himself to. “What? No, of course not,” he says, but his eyes still linger on you, fingers twitching with irritation when he hears you laugh again, and watches you playfully slap the man’s arm like you would do to his.

Eventually, you hold out your palm to your date, and he watches the guy dig through his pockets to give you something. Chris knows immediately what's happening– you’re waiting to be given a dime or two, and you’ll saunter off to the jukebox to pick a new tune once they’re in hand.

He watches you rise from the booth, waits until you’ve made the walk over to rise from his table, muttering to his friends that he needs to hit the can real quick. He takes a few steps in the direction of the bathroom, and then immediately turns, going straight to you instead.

He props an arm on the jukebox after he approaches, leans against it and looks down at you as you cycle through the record choices. “Hey baby,” he tries, but you ignore him, don’t even spare him a glance as you continue to give the jukebox your full attention.

“Listen– I’m sorry,” he tries again, and you just hum in acknowledgement, still not turning your gaze to look at him. He swallows, glances back at his friends who are perfectly oblivious to what he’s doing, and then back to you. “I just– you know how it is, right? The guys, they expect me to act a certain way, and–”

“That’s why I’m so glad I met Sam,” you interrupt, turning around to look at your date and offer him a sweet wave. Chris hates it, but at least you’re talking to him now– he’ll take what he can get. He still ends up scowling however when your date waves back, and you turn back to the jukebox, still without glancing up at Chris himself.

“What, you like that square?” he scoffs as he looks your date up and down. He’s smartly dressed; pristine khaki slacks and a brown sweater vest pulled over his white button up, his hair in a neatly styled, respectable crew cut– but that’s not your type.

At least, he hopes it's not; because that would make Chris the outlier, and that’s not what he wants to be. He’ll also be damned if he ends up losing you to a goody two shoes like that.

“He’s sweet to me. And I don’t have to question what his intentions are, unlike with you,” you reply, and the emphasis put on 'you' makes his heart sink. While he certainly deserves to hear it, it doesn’t make him any less upset– not with you, but with himself. He really let his pride and reputation get in the way, and he knows he fucked up. But he wants you, and surely you know that, right?

You finally settle on a tune; Those Magic Changes– the one he knows is your absolute favorite. The one he even used to serenade you with once whilst dancing, you giggling away with a cute blush on your cheeks whilst he twirled you around. He sang it more exaggeratedly towards the end, purposely putting on a goofy voice to make you laugh harder as he dipped you down.

He kissed you before lifting you back up, and then again when you were completely upright, your hand on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, your other free hands intertwined. The way you looked at him when he pulled back from the kiss made his heart pound, but he played it cool– shot you that grin that always made your legs feel like jelly, kissing your cheeks when it made your blush deepen.

Chris liked feeling the heat of your blush against his lips, liked having your hands on him even when it was in the purest of ways, liked the way you giggled and smiled at him when he playfully winked at you. The memory strikes him hard when you press the play button to start the song, and he takes a step back from the jukebox, fists clenched at his side.

You look at him then– really look at him. Instantly he feels small, your gaze that once held so much love for him now meeting him with the utmost scrutiny. He fucked up, he knows he did– but what does he do now? He can’t even trust himself to say something without fucking it up even worse. 

And the pain of it all hits you too– he can see it in your eyes just before you steel your expression, and do your best to act unaffected. "See you around, Christopher," you mutter as you turn away from him and the jukebox.

You walk back to the booth where Sam awaits your return with a smile, while Chris just stands there, your favorite song blaring painfully loud in his ears as he stares at your back. "..begs you please, come back to me, please return to me, don't go away again," the lyrics mock him harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he has to do something, anything, to show you he’s sincerely sorry. He needs to show you he still wants you, needs you to give him another chance– more than he’s ever needed anything.

The next time Chris sees you is once again by coincidence, while he’s sitting alone in the parking lot of the sock hop his little sister just begged him to take her to. He was trying to decide what to do with his time– if he left, he’d have to come back in a couple hours to pick her up, but surely it was better than sitting around outside, bored out of his mind while he waited for her.

He could go in, but sock hops aren’t really his thing– the only time he ever danced was with you, and he didn’t plan on changing that. All he’d do inside is stand on the edge of the room and watch his sister dance, and he didn’t much feel like doing that either. Besides, his little sister was a good girl, and she didn’t need, nor want, his constant supervision.

And he’s just about to turn the key in his ignition and burn rubber when he sees you, arm linked with stupid fucking Sam as he opens the door for you with his free hand. And fuck, he doesn't even care that he's about to crash your date– he just needs to talk you. He jumps out of his car in a rush, pulling open the door to the building and heading straight to the line leading to the dance floor.

Chris’ jaw tenses when he sees you– Sam is leaning down to whisper something in your ear while you wait in the line, and you cover your mouth as you giggle. He hates how similar it is to the days he spent with you at the fair, waiting in line for rides and popcorn. The envy bubbling in his gut makes him feel sick, and he has to take a breath to calm himself down before he approaches you.

He steps to where you are in the line when he feels mellowed out enough, you and your date turning around curiously when they hear his voice call your name. Your eyes widen when you see it's him, but you’re quick to correct your expression before your date notices anything off about you. “Can I talk to you?” Chris asks, not at all acknowledging Sam’s presence beside you.

Even when you divert your gaze to glance at your date’s reaction, Chris’ eyes stay firmly on you, awaiting your answer. “Please?” he follows up, and it makes you swallow. It’s the first time he’s ever taken a pleading, desperate tone with you, and he can tell rejecting him isn’t going to come easily to you– it gives him hope that you'll finally hear him out, maybe even take him back.

“I–” you hesitate a moment, and just as Chris’ new, shiny hope begins to dim, you unlink your arm from your date. “I’ll be right back, just stay in the line,” you tell Sam before shooting Chris a look and walking past him. He follows you back outside, and you cross your arms as you stand against the cold brick of the exterior.

“What do you want?” you cut straight to the point. There’s a million things he wants to say, but his built up jealousy causes him to ask the stupid, burning question first and foremost. “Since when do you go to sock hops?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh– he’s unbelievable, breaking your heart like that and then pulling stunts like this. 

“Since nice boys ask me to go with them. Why, you jealous?” you accuse him and he scoffs, trying once again to play off what he feels. “Me? Jealous? Don’t make me laugh,” he says, unable to help the instinctive reaction to being called out. And he instantly regrets it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I go back inside then?” you ask as you step away from the wall, starting to walk past Chris and back to the doors. He grabs your arm to stop you, and you look up at him expectantly. “Don’t, I–” he grits his teeth, hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to be honest, “I am, okay? So don’t.”

He lets your arm go, and his admission thankfully proves enough to make you stay. You settle back against the brick wall, but you don’t look at him after– instead you look down at the ground, staring at your sleek, black and white saddle shoes instead of meeting his gaze.

It’s silent for a moment, with Chris wracking his brain as he tries to figure out the right thing to say to you. “What you did was terrible, you know,” you end up breaking the silence first, your voice soft.

“I know, I– I meant it when I said I was sorry,” Chris says while moving a step closer to you, and still you hesitate to look at him. “I didn’t believe you. Still don’t,” you reply, and honestly, he can’t blame you– he should’ve been more sincere when he approached you.

But he was being a fucking idiot, still trying to play it cool even though it was just the two of you standing there by the jukebox. And who gave a fuck if his friends happened to look over and saw him talking to you? Why should he care? Is it really so wrong for him to be whipped for you?

Even the first time he saw you again, he should've done all the things he really wanted to do. He should've kissed you and hugged you tight, should've told you how happy he was to know you’re here to stay, should’ve flipped his friends the bird and told them to fuck off if they questioned him. But he didn’t– he cracked under the expectations, and you suffered for it.

There’s a lot he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it– he’s never been vulnerable about his feelings before you, but he wants to try. Even if he screws up over and over again, he’ll keep trying– because you deserve it. And he should apologize again, sincerely, but there’s another question burning in his blood that he has to ask.

“Do you really like that guy? You’re not, like– going steady, are you?” Chris questions and you shrug, finally looking up from the ground to meet his eyes. “That depends,” you tell him, peeling your back away from the wall to stand directly in front of him, holding your hands behind your back.

“On what?” he follows up, and you smile– a small one, but it’s enough for him. “On you,” you answer, and the hope flares back up, drowning out the envy and shame in veins and replacing it with pure, unfiltered glee.

“Yeah?” he grins as he tilts his head, and your smile grows the tiniest bit more as you nod. You may still have your doubts about his sincerity, but the fact that you’re willing to give him a chance is all he needs– he’ll use the time you give him to prove it to you, to make sure you’re left with no doubts that you’re the one that he wants, to promise that he'll never break your heart again.

“Come with me then, back inside– you’re gonna be my date,” he says as he holds out his hand to you. Sock hops may not have been his style before, but they can be for you. “What about Sam?” you question, but still take his hand regardless.

“He can stag it the rest of the night for all I care. You’re mine, sugar,” Chris replies, and it sends butterflies sweeping through your stomach as you giggle in delight. “And your friends?” you ask next, knowing it’s very well possible he’ll crack under the expectations of his rep with them again if they see you together.

“Fuck ‘em,” he replies easily; and you’re both sure it’ll be easier said than done for him to not give a shit what they think, but he’ll do his best. He doesn’t want to do anything to make you regret giving him another chance. “Let’s dance, baby,” he grins at you, pulling you along with him as he steps back inside the building with you in tow.

There’s a thought in Chris’ head that he never before thought he’d ever have– the sock hop was perfect. And well, maybe it’s not the sock hop itself necessarily that he enjoyed, but you– yes, it was most certainly you. The time spent with you was everything he’d been missing, everything he could’ve ever hoped for following your departure from the city and his subsequent abysmal fuck up. 

He knew he didn’t deserve any of it– and he was certain you were going to share a more serious talk about it all later, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt walking back into the building and seeing Sam utterly bewildered that his date was now clinging to his own arm instead.

And he won’t shirk his responsibility to do better by you– he’ll own up to his mistakes, he’ll change, be someone deserving of you. It may take a lot of time and effort to unlearn all the dumb shit he’s taken in over the years, but he swears he’ll try– tonight is just the start of a lifetime of proving to you that he’ll do anything to keep you.

All night, you’ve been positively radiant– and truly, Chris has never felt luckier in all his life. He delighted in the way you smiled at him while dancing, enjoyed the way you squealed in excitement and bounced on your heels when the live band decided to play a cover of your favorite tune, couldn’t help the way a goofy grin spread over his face when you pecked him on the cheek following a slow dance.

You’re the only one in the world who’s ever seen it, you know– the only one who gets to see his dimples, or to hear him giggle. The only one he’s ever sung to and danced with, the only one he’s ever wanted to stay up all night talking on the phone with, the only one he’s ever taken out for more than a quick and simple joyride in his car.

He could feel the inquisitive, disbelieving stares too– Chris has lived here his entire life, and everyone knows the kind of guy he is. And maybe he’s simply lucky– he knows he’s nothing but a delinquent, knows his reputation precedes him, knows he doesn’t deserve the affection of a good girl like you. 

Regardless of it all, you love him– enough to give him another chance even when he hasn’t yet done enough to earn it. And effortlessly, you unlock the soft part of him– the part of him that desires and yearns and wants. He burns for you, the only girl in the world his heart has ever raced for, the only who knew who he was beyond the rough surface he projected to the rest of the world.

Now you’re outside tentatively standing next to Chris’ car, waiting for him to come back from confirming with his sister that she’ll hitch a ride home from her friends instead of him. It embarrasses him how she grills him with questions about you– and he answers in the vaguest of terms, having to promise that he’ll fill her in on it all in more detail later, but to please just let him go be alone with his girl.

He’s certain that no one else would believe it if he told them, but his intentions to be alone with you are entirely pure. Now that he’s close to having you as his again, he wants to do right by you– take it slow, kiss you soft and tender, touch you light and chaste, respectfully, sweetly. He wants to take you on dates again, wants to save up all his quarters to buy you something special, wants to devote his every moment to showing you how sincerely he loves you.

He wants you to meet his friends properly (after he gives them a stern warning to be gentlemen in front of you), wants you to meet his parents, and he wants to meet yours in turn. He wants to stop playing it cool and aloof and confident when he feels something– doesn’t want to keep pretending that the way you look at him doesn’t drive him wild, not just with lust but with adoration.

And certainly, you know that Chris is softer than he outwardly appears– you’re not blind to the way his cheeks and ears burn when you kiss him sweet and call him that name that makes his heart skip a beat. And unlike you, Chris knew what he was doing– so it was natural for him to always be the one leading your little song and dance, even when on the inside he felt like he was going to positively combust from the way your eyes sparkled at him.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to try– something that you couldn’t before, because your summer together passed by in a blink, and there was so much you didn’t know when your relationship first began. And Chris has taught you a lot in your time together– maybe more than he even realizes.

He may not know it, but he’s made you into a real insatiable minx. And now that you know he’s willing to beg and plead and grovel for you to take him back, oh how it makes your heart race with the possibilities. How far can you take it? How far is he willing to go for you, to prove that he’s devoted to you entirely? Would he really do anything to keep you?

Chris told you, just a few moments ago as the sock hop was coming to an end, that he’ll do anything and everything to make sure you don’t regret giving him another chance with him. He looked you straight in the eyes, vulnerable and entirely sincere, squeezed your hands in his as countless promises left his lips. 

Could he be manipulating you? Is he nothing but a dirty liar? It’s certainly possible– but you’d like to believe the Chris you knew last summer is the truest version of himself. You’d like to believe that the Chris you saw tonight isn’t an act to keep stringing you along. So you want to try something– something bold, something the you of last summer would’ve never thought to do.

You don’t think your shyness will ever entirely evaporate given that Chris is such an utter dreamboat, but he does well enough at playing it cool, so who's to say you can’t do it too? You can be playful and enticing, can play it coy and innocent while you flutter your lashes at him, can smile and pout at him in a way that makes desire spread through his veins like explosive, hot fireworks.

When Chris walks back out of the building you have to make a conscious effort to ignore the butterflies in your stomach– you’ve decided you’re a woman on a mission tonight, after all. The parking lot is sparse now, and the last stragglers from the sock hop all shuffle to their cars, his sister and her group of friends being among them.

Though you only met her briefly, you offer her a pleasant wave goodbye, and she smiles at you as she returns it– though you don’t miss the way she shoots her older brother a look after. A look that says “don’t fuck this up for yourself.” It almost makes you giggle– you like having his sister on your side; you get the impression she’ll chew him out if he doesn’t shape up the way he’s promised to. 

Chris doesn’t turn to you until after his sister and her friends have peeled out of the parking lot– you’re not sure if it’s because he wanted to make sure she was going to be safe, or if it’s because he felt like she’d gotten enough of an eyeful of him being affection with you, and he’d be embarrassed if she saw anymore. You like either answer.

“Hi baby,” he says, soft and sweet as he smiles, and it makes your heart once again skip a beat. Even after hours of dancing, he still looks utterly perfect– not a single piece of his greased up hair out of place. You hope you’re faring the same– you didn’t really get a chance to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the night to know for certain, but you want Chris to think you look divine.

“Am I taking you straight home?” he asks; it’s dark out now, but you still have a fair amount of time before you’re expected back home. And while he’d love to spend more time with you, he isn’t going to assume– this is a trial period, after all; he still has to earn that, he’s sure.

Calling you his earlier was more hope on his end than confidence– he wants you to be his, but he knows he has to earn your trust back first. And he’s going to be a gentleman– any boundary you have, he’ll adhere to, no matter what. He refuses to fuck up with you again.

“No,” you answer short and simple, smiling up at him as you do. But before he can ask you what you want to do until curfew, you’re speaking again. “My shoe's untied,” you pout, leaning back against his car while gently lifting your foot from the ground to show him, “can you fix it for me, please?”

“You want me to tie it for you, baby?” he laughs a little as he tilts his head to the side, thinking you’re just oh so cute when you keep up the pout as you nod. He gets down on one knee easily, and you put your foot right on his knee, watching as he ties your laces back together. When he’s finished, you don’t put your foot back on the ground– you press it right to the middle of his chest.

“Baby?” Chris looks up at you curiously– and there’s a twinkle in your eye he’s never seen before. He almost thinks you’re going to kick him back on his behind, but you don’t– you take your skirt into your hands, and start to pull it up. Slowly, it rises above your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he can see your pretty white panties, with its precious little pink bow in the center.

“S-Sugar, what– what are you–” he stammers, struggling to form words in a way he never has before. You’ve never exposed yourself to him like this– just out in the open, with no barrier between you and the rest of the world. You aren’t in your bedroom, you aren’t inside the car with the windows and hood up– you’re out, in the middle of the fucking parking lot where anyone could see. 

Fuck, even the times at the beach, when he made love to you in the sand, were much, much more secluded than this– because those excursions were isolated, close to your aunt’s beach house and happening in the dead of night. And this is very much not– it’s barely even 9 o’clock, and you’re at a public venue; anyone could come by, and for any reason.

“I need your help with something else too, daddy,” you say as you pout some more, clearly acting coy, and he swallows as he stares up at you. “Can you do it, daddy? Can you help me?” You take as much of your skirt's fabric into one hand as you can, keeping it lifted above your thigh while you move your other hand between your legs, pulling your panties to the side to show him your pussy.

The action sends all of Chris’ blood careening to his cock– he can’t believe you’re really doing this right now. “Right– right here? N-Now?” he gulps, taking a quick glance around the parking lot. You’re alone now, but still– he never thought you’d do something so bold. Even just fooling around in the back seat of the cadillac with as much privacy as he could give you made you impossibly shy.

“Yes, here, now,” you tell him, keeping your panties hooked to the side with two fingers, while using the other two to spread your folds apart for him the best you can. You’re trying to entice him, and fuck, is it working. He never thought he’d see you this way, and it’s making him feel so utterly electric– he’s a fucking live wire, and he’ll pour his current straight into you.

Anything you want from him, it’s yours– he doesn’t need any convincing, he’s already impossibly ensnared by the rope that is your desire for him. And fuck, he said he wouldn't do this, said he'd be a gentleman, take things slow and build back up to intimacy with you– but if you're practically begging him for it, how can he resist?

Chris takes your foot into his hand, carefully lifts it from his chest and throws your leg over his shoulder before he crawls closer to you. The concrete of the parking lot ground is brutal against his knees, but he doesn’t give a shit– you need him, and that’s all that matters.

He replaces your hand, keeps your panties shoved aside with his own. Now that your hand is free you use it to hold onto the car door and give yourself some extra support as he starts placing kisses to your clit. His lips always feel so perfect– especially when he licks them first, gets them nice and wet for you; the sensation draws out a pleasant sigh, but you both know it isn’t really enough.

Chris likes to tease you, make you wait until you’re squirming and trembling from all his repeated kisses, gets you so worked up you could beg and cry before he finally gives you his tongue. But tonight is about getting what you want, when you want it– so as much as you enjoy his soft little kisses, you’re not going to let him work you up.

He’ll be the one fraying at the edges, the one desperate and pleading, the one who feels like his brain is filled with cotton, looking up at you from down on his knees with glassy eyes full of need. You let go of the car door, bring your hand to his head and thread your fingers through his hair. You pull back just enough to have his head tilting away from your pussy, making his eyes land straight up at you.

“Baby–” he gasps, and again you meet his gaze with that sinfully deceitful pout. “You said you’d do anything for me, daddy,” you say as you shoot him your best doe eyed look, “Did you mean it? Will you do anything for me?” Fuck, you’ve got him throbbing– you can see his erection straining against his jeans, and it nearly makes you grin in delight.

Still, you don’t crack– Chris always does well at only showing you the version of himself he wants you to see, and you will too. You won’t give him your meek looks or timid declarations of desire for more of his touch– he’ll only see a new you; a confident you who knows exactly what she wants. You’ve learned from the best, after all.

“Well?” you demand when he doesn’t immediately answer, and you watch him swallow, swearing you can see the shiver that spreads down his spine and throughout the rest of his body. “Y-Yeah baby, I meant it. I’d do anything for you,” he tells you, hoping you can’t see how red his face and ears are getting in the low light.

“Prove it– prove you want me, prove you’re good for something,” you say, and again he shivers, breath catching in his throat. “Eat it, make me cum.” Fuck, Chris is reeling– he still can’t even believe it’s really you talking to him this way. His brain feels like a faulty circuit board, all his synapses sparking dangerously as they fire off, ready to ignite his blood and engulf him in an uncontrollable flame of desire.

When you let go of his hair, he wastes no time diving right into your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. He brings his free hand to your ass, squeezes and holds you in place while he shakes his head to get more of you on his tongue, his nose bumping your clit and making your legs quiver.

You bite your lip, doing your best to suppress the loud moan he brings out of you by sucking on your clit. His plush lips wrapped around it, the flicks of his tongue, how expertly he sucks– it’s already so overwhelming, in the best way possible. Chris does his best to sink lower, tries to lick at your hole and get his tongue inside, but it’s hard like this– he’s not sure if he can.

“B-Baby, doll, let me lay you down, in the car, let me–” he pulls away from your dripping center to look up at you, and fuck, he looks ruined in the prettiest way imaginable. His eyes are hazy and pleading, glistening with your arousal from the tip of his nose all the way down to his chin, sweat dripping down his brow. “Need to spread you out, I– please? Gotta taste more of you.” 

Shit, you can’t deny you want it– especially not when he’s begging like this. You nod, and he smiles at you in appreciation, a smile that makes your knees even weaker than they already are. You take your leg off his shoulder, and he quickly rises to his feet, giving you a messy kiss before he ushers you away from the car door to open it for you.

You crawl into the back seat, and he follows, slamming the door shut behind him. He waits until you get comfortable, not acting until you're lying propped against the opposite door of the car. Chris hooks your panties in his fingers, pulls them down your legs and tosses them aside into the footwell; it'll be a sweet treat for him when he finds them again later.

He'll keep them, he thinks– stuff ‘em in his pocket and take them back to his room, where they'll lie safe and protected under his pillow. It's a dirty thought, one that'd otherwise fill his gut with shame, but right now all he feels is need– need for you to cum on his tongue, need to give you everything you want and more.

He settles on his stomach between your legs, and it’s certainly not easy, but he manages well enough. One of your legs ends up over his shoulder again while the other stays spread out with the help of his hand holding you under the knee. And finally, his tongue dips into your hole, and it’s pure bliss– maybe even more so for him than you. He’s hungry, utterly ravenous; all he can think, breath, and taste is you, you, you.

“Chris– your fingers, need your fingers,” you whine more shamelessly than you would've otherwise liked, but you know he enjoys it. He separates from you long enough to run his fingers between your folds, making sure they’re nice and slick for you before he presses them to your hole. 

He slides one finger in first, bringing his mouth back to your clit while you adjust to the feeling. Your legs are already trembling by the time he adds another finger, and when he starts curling his fingers to hit your most sensitive spot while flicking his tongue against your clit you can hardly even breathe– it’s just so, so good.

Your stomach is clenching, thighs and legs shaking hard, your release building up with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Oh, fuck, Chris–” you cry when he presses the tips of his fingers into your spot harder. You’re certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still wearing your shoes, your toes would be curling from the pleasure.

Your pussy sounds so sloppy and messy, and Chris himself isn’t making it any better– he’s drooling so much, his saliva drenching you just as much as your own dripping arousal. You’re breathing hard, and even your hands are shaking as they continue to hold up your skirt to watch him devour you.

“Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, I’m gonna– fuck, gonna cum for you daddy, please don’t stop,” you’re crying loud– and you know you should at least try to be quieter considering how out in the open you are, but you’re too far gone to care. With your head thrown back, you whimper and moan, high pitched and loud, eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you.

It feels like it’s endless, the waves of pleasure ceaselessly jolting your body as your vision blurs white; and you feel wet; so, so wet. It’s only when you finally come down from the high and lift your head back up from where it thunked against the car door to look at Chris that you realize why you feel so drenched.

It’s not just your thighs that are dampened– it’s your skirt, Chris’ face and shirt, the leather of his seats; all of it is soaked with your cum. Your face starts to burn hot, and you swallow as Chris stares at you, almost bewildered. “Baby– did you just..?” You squirted for him, because of him– he doesn’t even fucking care how much of a nightmare it’s going to be to clean his car, all he can think about is how fucking sexy it is.

You simply nod, because it’s all you can think to do– you really weren’t expecting this to happen. “Oh my god, baby, you have to do it again, please, you have to,” he practically whines, and his enthusiasm over it makes you giggle. You honestly feel more than a little shy about it, but Chris’s apparent elation makes it worth the tinge of embarrassment.

You reach out for him, take the necklace dangling from his neck into your hands and pull, urging him to come closer to you. He crawls up your body, and you kiss him, sliping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself all over him. “Fuck, you’re so dirty baby,” he groans when you pull away, “what are we going to do, huh?”

It makes you giggle again, a soft thing full of mischievous delight. He basks in it, giggles with you before he kisses you again. “Need your cock now,” you tell him when he pulls away, and shit, he’d nearly forgotten how fucking hard he is whilst wrapped up in pleasuring you. He can feel it straining against his jeans, desperate for stimulation of its own.

“Yeah? Want my cock baby?” he asks, grinning at you the way he always had before; you tug on his silver chain again in response. “Don’t forget, you’re giving me everything I want. Everything, okay?” you say once his face is mere inches from yours again, making him look you closely in the eyes. Chris swallows as he nods, the smile you offer him once again making his brain feel fuzzy and floaty.

He looks you over once more, really takes it all in before he scrambles over the front seat, reaching for the glove box where he still has some spares from your time together over the summer. Condom in hand, he settles back over you, and you help him with his jeans while he tears the package open. He spreads it quickly down his length, and you take your legs in hand, holding them under your knees to keep yourself open for him. 

The sight of you like that is dizzying– legs open, skirt bunched up all the way to your stomach, pussy wet and glistening, with the hair there matting from how wet you are; you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. He moans as he pushes into you, so slick that you take him with ease. You take his face in one of your hands and pull him down to kiss you, a desperate one that makes pleasure lick over every inch of his skin.

Chris rolls his hips into you slowly to start, while you let go of the leg you're still holding to wrap your limbs around him, keeping him pressed close. He grabs onto the car door, uses it to keep himself steady when he starts to pick up the pace of his hips, harsh breaths and low moans leaving him freely. Neither of you are trying to be quiet, the street lights are burning bright, the hood of his car and the windows are down, anyone could hear you or see you– and the excitement of it all makes the pleasure he feels all the more intense.

“Baby, your tits– let me see ‘em, please, can I see ‘em?” he asks between labored breaths– he needs to see them, has missed them more than is probably allowed. You quickly do as he asks, fumbling with the top few buttons of your blouse to expose yourself to him. You tug down your bra so he can see your breasts bare, and again he groans, bringing his free hand to one of them to brush his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Oh, you’re so pretty– so, so pretty baby,” he says, groaning when the words make you clench harder around him. It doesn’t take long for the car to start rocking with the motion of his thrusts, his rhythm quickly growing sloppier. He’s been so worked up, and believe it or not, he hasn’t actually fucked anyone since you– he feels so high strung and on edge, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

He just hopes he can make you cum again before he does, or at least make you cum with him– he needs you to be happy with him. You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, you can tell that he’s already impossibly close– so, like the little minx you are, you talk dirty to him, wanting to see him utterly unravel at the seams. “You gonna fill me up, daddy? Make this pussy all yours?”

Chris gasps and shudders, goosebumps erupting all over his impossibly hot skin. He knows he can’t actually– all he’s going to really fill up with his cum is the condom, but fuck, the thought of it is making his head swim. “Y-Yeah, gonna fill you up baby, daddy’s gonna make you so full,” he breathes, and God, that really does it for you.

You bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick, practiced circles. Even through the condom he can feel you gushing and soaking his cock, and it sends him over the edge– as do the sounds of your incredibly pretty whimpers and moans of pleasure. His hips still when he cums, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes roll back, head thrown back in utmost bliss.

It takes Chris a few moments to recollect himself and catch his breath, and he slowly slips out of you when does. He tucks his softening length back in his jeans before he helps you fix your bra, and smoothes your skirt out over your legs while you button your blouse back up. “You feeling okay, baby?” he asks, wiping messy strands of hair out of your face.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, faces flushed and hot, hair utterly a mess– it’s obvious, even with your clothes fixed up, what you’ve been doing. “Mhm, are you?” you ask, and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m peachy keen, jelly bean,” he replies and you giggle, kissing him once more.

He looks at himself in his rearview mirror when he pulls away, does his best to fix his messy hair while you lift yourself up from your propped position and stretch out your aching limbs. He then takes another glance around the parking lot, and notes that you’re still the only ones here– thank God. He was too enraptured by you to check earlier, and he’s grateful that no one else has showed up.

“Should probably get you home now, yeah?” Chris asks, looking at the clock on his dashboard and noticing it’s now getting dangerously close to your 10 o’clock curfew. He helps you get into the passenger seat when you nod, and you smile at him when he settles in beside you. He turns the key in the ignition, one hand resting on your thigh while the other stays on the wheel, and he drives you home.

Chris parks up the street, like he did all those times at your aunt’s beach house. He watches you walk over to your house, and he smiles when you turn around to blow him a kiss. At 11 he leaves his car, walks up the street to your home, and approaches the only window with a light still on– the window to your new bedroom. And you smile as you open it for him, letting him crawl his way inside.

He sees the teddy bear he won you at the fair sitting right in the middle of your bed, nestled against your pillows, and he smiles, delighted that you still kept it even after he broke your heart. “I love you, baby,” he tells you in a whisper after a sweet kiss, “never gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, mister. Or I might just have to make you jealous again,” you warn and tease him with a cheeky little smile. He strips out of his jeans and tee shirt as you turn off your lamp, lies down beside you after you settle into your bed, runs his hand up and down your back as you press yourself against him. Head on his chest, with your arm and leg tossed over him, he kisses your head and smiles once more– because as he promised, this is just the start of a lifetime.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[croucify]

omg i loved your hamzah fic! every time a hamzah fic shows up on the tl jesus sheds a tear!!

feel like it’s so awkward to request but would love for u to write about dating hamzah on the dl & being a guest on the patreon pod

giving relationship advice to some sad slushys while being all sweet n giddy with each other……

STAWWWPP I LOVE THISSSS I GOT U!!!

✶ sweet nothing — hamzahthefantastic x reader

WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff, i used the name junia for the slushy that msgd and reader has a dog named loki

A/N: i'm not subscribed to the patreon and i don't entirely know what goes on there BUT i just know hamzah's alone for that???? even in a fictional universe, hamzah still can't read too BAHAHAHA also sorry if this took so long, i had this in the drafts for a while but just finished it now!

the whole day, you’ve been overthinking about being on your boyfriend’s podcast.

you’ve been on out of character before but martin would also be there with you and hamzah.

so here you were, zoned out while your boyfriend explained everything you're gonna do for this episode.

"okay, so... are you ready?" he finally finished talking, now looking at you and then seeing the state you were in. his eyes soften and he walks toward you.

"what's wrong?" he held your hands in his as he tried getting your attention. you look up and give him a smile.

"just a bit nervous," you force a chuckle then he pulls you in to kiss your forehead. "you think they'll notice we're.. y'know." you tilt your head, placing a hand on his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

he shrugs in response, hands now on your hips, caressing the exposed skin from your top. "i don't know honestly but i don't think it'll be a big deal for them cause i love you."

you giggle before pulling him in for a kiss.

"okay let's start then!"

the podcast went on like it usually did, you and hamzah spoke about everything and anything you could think of — from the recent movies you've watched to activities you guys have been doing.

the next part of the podcast's segment was introduced by hamzah, he pulls out his phone and looks at his instagram messages.

"okay so this is the first one, i'll read it first and tell me what you think."

you nod at him to start the he starts to read.

"hi hamzah, i'm f-17 and i finish high school very soon. for the past year, i've realized that i lick—oh sorry it's like my best friend who's m-18 and he's had girls chasing him for a while now and he was entertaining them but ended up not having anything with any of the girls. but recently he's been hinting at liking me and flirting with me playfully i guess i don't know if i should let him know i like him, help me please."

you look at him to see if he was finished then he puts his phone down, now turning to look at you. “okay so you like your best friend that sounds familiar,” hamzah gives a teasing look to you with a smirk on his face.

you roll your eyes playfully, inching closer to him on the sofa until your knees are close to each other.

“i can relate to this, i was clueless too if he was flirting with me or not,” you glance between hamzah and the camera as you speak, holding the mic a bit closer. “but in the end it still worked out and he’s… well my boyfriend now!” you both chuckle and you feel yourself blush, hiding your face with the mic.

hamzah places a hand on your thigh which thankfully wasn’t caught in the frame. “oh my god okay, since you’re sooo happy talking about him, continue the story and give our girl… uh… wait what’s her name—oh there it is! junia!”

you get closer to hamzah, now shoulder to shoulder, and interlocking your hands with each other.

“okay so before i dated my boyfriend, he really wasn’t entirely my bestest best friend but more like a close best friend? he had a special place in my heart–”

“oh really what kinda special place?” he nudges you which you ignore.

“and even before i realized i liked him, it was like i’m always wanting to be around him or talk to him a lot.” your gaze was entirely on him as you said this, completely forgetting about the camera recording and a smile started to grow on hamzah’s face, looking down at his lap to try and hide it.

“i’ve known my boyfriend almost 5 or 6 years before we started dating and it really took me a while to realize i was in love with him.” you were already smiling at him, rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

his head shots up and looks at you, eyes a bit wide.

“wait you were in love already?”

you bite your lip to try and stop yourself from smiling bigger. “yeah, dude, i’ve told you this before!” you let go of his hand, the smile still prominent on your face as you punch his arm playfully.

“okay loser, just continue,”

you roll your eyes and scoff jokingly. “but in all honesty, i know i barely talk and post about my boyfriend but he knows i love him soooo much,” you look up at hamzah who was trying to hide his smile by biting the insides of his cheeks.

you lean closer to him before continuing. “so junia! if you really think you both like each other then go for it! you never know what could happen.” you said and it was like you had hearts as your eyes as you looked at hamzah.

he indistinctively puts an arm over your shoulder as the podcast continues, reading more of the messages and giving the viewers advice.

“oh hamzah! i think this one you can help with,” as you were about to show hamzah the message, your dog, comes out of the room and tries pulling you away from hamzah.

“jesus christ, loki, stop stealing my girlfriend.” he muttered but was still heard on the microphone.

you leave the couch for a while and place your dog in the room.

“okay so here’s the message.” you hand him the phone and he reads it.

“hi hamzah, i don’t know if you’re taken or single cause honestly you’ve been sending us mixed signals at the moment but if you are taken, can you help me flirt. i start college soon and i still don’t know how to talk and flirt with girls—okay i see what you’re trying to say here y/n what the hell.” he glares at you as he finally finishes reading and you stick your tongue out at him which he just smiles at.

"just a tip to everyone who's watching, never ask hamzah how to flirt cause this boy can't flirt to save his life!" you laugh as you said the joke, hamzah putting the phone down and covering your mouth to stop you from saying anything else.

the recording went on for a few more minutes, you ended the episode on a positive note since all you did was tease and make fun of each other.

"i don't think i'll ever be invited back here again after that, so bye you guys!" you blow a kiss to the camera before standing up and stopping the recording.

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @kingvioleta @tumb1rgir1z LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

[lodeddiperactivate]

Falling out (timeskip with you and Rodrick)

A/N: Found this in my draft. Started writing it a while back with the intention of turning it into angst with you and Rodrick fighting over what happened but got lazy! Just gonna post this as a blurb/drabble, not planning to turn it into a full fic series anymore :/

You and Rodrick have been friends since highschool, and at some point, yeah it felt as if there was something between the two of you. However, neither one of you did anything about it for the sake of not ruining the friendship. Eventually, after graduation, you two went your separate ways. He became more focused with his music career, and you moved to New York to become a journalist. You thought that was the end of it until one day you got a call from your mom asking you to help Rodrick find an apartment in New York.

It had been 5 years since the last time you've seen each other at your highschool graduation, and you honestly believed that moving to another state will ensure that you won't ever get to see him again. The thing is you two started having a fallout when you heard rumors that he was dating Heather.

Your mom instructed you to meet Rodrick at a cafe near your apartment so that he can also tour any vacant units in your building. You protested at first but there's nothing you can really do as both your families remained close throughout the years. And now Rodrick is moving to New York because he got accepted as a Financial Analyst at some corporation, which is another surprise as you thought he had pursued music full-time.

~

As soon as you entered the cafe, you started looking for a table since you assumed he'd be late but to your surprise, he was already sat at a table by the window. He wore a light blue button down and some beige corduroy pants. His expression was vacant, as if the 5 years that went by had sucked his soul out of his body. He saw you and waved, and feigned a small smile as you walked towards him.

"Hey"

"Hey there, thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he said. He sounded so formal, you weren't really used to this new Rodrick.

"Not a problem, how have you been?"

"Fine, great. I got a job at this company and thought it would be a good opportunity for me to move here as well," he paused. "You look good."

"You too," you replied as both of you sat down. You were both testing the waters as to what topics should you talk about and which ones are off the table. After some silence, you decided to suggest that you both order.

"Oh I already ordered some chocolate chip pancakes for the table, and some orange juice," he smiled. Oh that smile! You missed it so much.

"I love chocolate chip pancakes,"

"I know," he looked at his hands in front of him, clasped together. "I remember."

"Uhm so my mom told me you were looking for an apartment?"

"Yes, I am!" He said as if snapping out of a trance. "I have all my documents with me." You smiled at him, and he smiled back and for some time, the two of you started to relax.

The pancakes arrived and you both ate for awhile until you decided to simply rip off the bandaid.

"So how are you and Heather?" He seemed surprise with the question but felt like he already had prepared an answer.

"We broke up actually. Second year in college. She said that I was holding her back," he trailed off.

"Oh I'm so sorry to hear that."

"No, it's fine, she was right. Loded Diper wasn't going anywhere and I was basically flunking every one of my major subjects."

"Loded Diper's no longer playing?"

"Well, we're on a hiatus, at least until I figure things out and I will figure it out," he beamed at you with a certain level of reassurance, much like his old self, you thought. You smiled back and proceeded to finish the rest of the food.

"We can start touring some units that are available in my building," you started as both of you walked back to your apartment building. "When will you be starting at your new company?"

"Err, tomorrow actually."

"What?! You won't be able to find an apartment and sign a lease in New York in less than 24 hours, you know!"

"Yes yes I know."

"Thank you," Rodrick looked at you and you looked at him. You missed him so much and you hoped that this will be your chance to get back to what you two were like before. He held your gaze as if he's searching yours for some sign that everything will be alright between you and him. You leaned closer and before you know it, he had let his forehead touch yours.

After some time, you lifted your head, "Okay okay, here's to hoping that the unit is still available in my building. I can guarantee the landlord that you're a good tenant and maybe that will speed up the process."

It didn't. In fact, even after touring some other apartments, you two were left with zero to nothing chances of signing a lease within the week. You were both exhausted so you've settled with him staying your apartment at least until he finds a place of his own.

[claiestve]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꨄ Alex

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: 🎧

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ↻ ◁ ɪɪ ▷ ↺

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

❝ Hung all my clothes in the closet you made

“I can’t believe we’re living together. Like, finally!” 

“I can’t wait to get your pictures in this new setting.”

“Alex!”

“What?!”

Your shoes still in boxes, I send them your way, hoping life brings you no new pain

“Is this my stuff?”

“Mhm.”

“You couldn’t even bother packing it up properly? Wow.”

I rearrange my memories, I try to rewrite our life

“You're good at staying rational until you're not.”

“What?”

But no matter how I try to

“Want to tell me what's wrong or am I supposed to guess?”

And no matter how I want to 

“You really think something's going on between us…?”

And no matter how easy things could be if I did

“I’m sorry about the other night, I was overthinking and my thoughts got the best of me…”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I forgive you.”

“You okay?”

And no matter how guilty, I still feel saying it

“Why the hell am I the last person to know about this? If anything I should be the first. Not only are we dating but you live with me. But you told me after everyone else? After all the people that you don’t live with? What kind of shit is that Alex?”

“I didn't tell you at first because I knew you'd react like this.”

I wish I hated you

“Hey, hey. This… this will be– it’ll be okay.”

“But it’s over now.”

“I know it'll be the end of us but…”

I wish that weren't true

“You know you're my favorite person. You're adorable and clingy. The day hasn't even started yet and I'm falling for you a little more.”

“Go back to sleep, stupid.”

Wish there was worse to you

“You know, Alex. This year has been the best. I don’t even mean it in a weird, sappy way, but I don’t know. You make every year a good one.”

I wish you were worse to me

“Well, you stay here where it's romantic and warm, I'll be back with the hot chocolate, okay?”

Yeah, I wish I hated you. ❞

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

that was literally justtt dialogue (exhausting but after yesterday, i had to)

dont worry, the andrew fic is still in the drafts i just got more motivation to kinda finish this after yesterday.

[captainsophiestark]

No Way To Know For Sure Part 2

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Part 1 - Join My Taglist!

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

Also written for @ghostofskywalker as a part 2 to the fic you let me adopt a while ago! I've had this in my drafts since all that AI stuff and I'm happy to have rediscovered and finished it 😄 Hope you like it!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Now that you've decided to move to LA with Daniel, there's a few loose ends left to tie up in New York.

Word Count: 2,174

Category: Fluff, Humor

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

I sighed dramatically as I sared straight ahead out the window, watching all the people bustling around the streets and the familiar, giant buildings hovering over them. I'd been gone for some time now, but New York hadn't changed.

Jarvis, currently in the driver's seat of the car, was positively buzzing, and I could tell he was struggling not to say anything. Even the great city of New York couldn't keep me distracted from all the ridiculous energy he was projecting.

"Alright, Mr. Jarvis, spit it out," I said, at last turning from the window to look at my friend. He glanced at me, lips pursed tight to try and hold back a smile before he had to turn his gaze back to the road.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I must admit, I'm rather excited. Since Mr. Stark has been spending more time in Los Angeles, I've missed seeing all of you here in New York. Having you regularly in Los Angeles as well as Rose and Chief Sousa... well, it will be a delight."

A smile made its way onto my face despite my best effots. I'd wanted Daniel to drive me in to the office this morning to put in my transfer request for the LA office, but he had a meeting with an informant he couldn't move. I hadn't really wanted to resort to Jarvis, only because I knew he wouldn't be able to stay calm about my decision, but now I had to admit I was happy to be here with him.

"It'll be wonderful to get to see more of you too, Mr. Jarvis," I said with a smile. "You, me, Ana, and Daniel should set up a regular double date."

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Jarvis turned to give me a big smile as we at last pulled up in front of the New York SSR. He hopped out and ran around to open my door for me, beating me to the punch of opening it myself, something we'd turned into a bit of a competition. "Ana will be delighted at the idea too, I'm sure."

"Maybe we can even invite Howard," I said, my voice serious even though I was cackling in my head. I got out of the car and stood, smirking at Jarvis' less than enthusiastic expression as I continued. "He can bring along whoever he's brought home with him on any given week."

"That may be the single most horrifying suggestion I've heard in my entire life."

I cackled, clapping Jarvis on the shoulder as I walked past him and towards the entrance to the "telephone company".

"Thanks for the ride! I promise I won't let Howard crash any of our couples' nights, unless he finally gets a girlfriend who sticks around for more than a few weeks."

"At this point in Mr. Stark's life, a few days would be impressive," he called after me. I laughed, then turned back at the door to give Jarvis a smile.

"I'll see you back in LA!"

"I'm looking forward to it!"

I smiled and waved before finally heading through the door and back into the familiar hallways of the New York SSR. Daniel would be picking me up later, after I got everything sorted out for my move, and then who knew when I'd next be back in this place and this city. We had plenty of friends here and the other half of the SSR, so it's not like I'd never see the city again, but for the first time since I'd started working here I had no idea when I'd next be back. I tried not to let it get to me, but stepping into the currently-empty bullpen of the place I'd spent so much time in the last few years drove the knife in a little harder.

I'd intentionally arrived before most of the other agents got here, hoping to avoid a lot of hubub about my transfer request. No matter how nostalgic I felt being here, my decision had been made. I loved Daniel and the life I'd started building with Daniel in LA enough that nothing could make me want to leave it. Not even my favorite pizza place on the way between here and my former apartment.

"Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Of course, I couldn't get away with avoiding Chief Jack Thompson, especially not when I had to turn my transfer request papers in to him. He came striding out of his office, a massive grin on his face as he crossed the bullpen towards me.

"Long time no see, Agent."

"I saw you two weeks ago, Jack."

"Yeah, but in LA. You've been on-loan for a while. I haven't seen you as my agent, in New York, in a long time."

I just rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, enjoy the next half hour then, because as soon as these papers are finalized, I'm officially Daniel's agent."

"Now hold on a minute, I have some serious concerns about you leaving that we need to address before I finalize anything. I mean, is it really appropriate for a chief to be dating one of his own agents? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me."

"Jack. You are the one who sent me there, you meddling mother hen, with the exact hope that this would happen. I will literally fight you in the middle of the bullpen if you want to use that against me now."

Jack held up his hands. "Alright, relax. Your transfer's basically already finalized, I just need your signature next to mine. Then you can go run off into the sunset with Sousa and leave the greatest city in the world behind like it's nothing."

"Alright, you went to Ithica for college. At least I'm leaving for another interesting city, even if it's not as good."

"At least we can agree on that last part."

I snorted, but I couldn't totally keep a smile off my face either. Jack and I had actually kind of become friends in the past few months, especially in the wake of Daniel leaving, and I was surprised to find a little ping of sadness in my chest at the thought of leaving him behind with the rest of this city. If you'd told me a few years ago I'd be missing Jack Thompson, I would've laughed in your face.

Jack pulled the transfer papers out of a file on the nearest desk where they'd apparently been waiting for me all morning, setting them down in front of me. In turn, I handed him the papers I'd filled out since I last saw him, then glanced at what was in front of me. True to his word, they only needed my signature to be finalized.

"We're gonna miss you around here," he said, his voice unusually serious. I glanced up to find him holding out a pen to me, a small smile on his face. "Seriously."

"...I'm gonna miss you too, Jack."

We held each other's gaze for a few moments, maybe the first time we'd had a sincere exchange in my entire time working here. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking away as I finally took the pen from his hand.

"Alright, that's enough of that sappy crap. You bring a box to clean out your desk? I don't want to have to waste agency time clearing out whatever garbage you left in there before you went to LA."

"Don't worry, I've got a plan for all my leftover trash and scribbled notes I don't need anymore."

"I don't like the way you said that. What do you-"

"Oh, thank goodness!"

I straightened from signing the documents after finishing the last one to find Peggy coming through the doors into the bullpen, looking slightly more frazzled than usual. She shook her head at me as she approached, dropping her stuff at the base of the desk and putting her hands on her hips.

"I thought I'd missed you. I can't believe you were planning to just duck in and duck out this morning. What were you planning to do if Thompson hadn't called me to tell me when you were coming in? Just leave for Los Angeles without a goodbye?"

"Actually, Daniel and I were planning to invite the two of you to dinner tonight for a real goodbye. I'm just trying to avoid causing a scene in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of the SSR's workday."

Peggy and Jack both scoffed, the sounds eerily similar. I raised an eyebrow, but Jack leaned in and snatched the papers off my desk before I could comment.

"Alright, I'm gonna go process these since you don't want to hang around here. By the time you're done with your desk, I'll be done with these."

I nodded, watching Jack's back as he headed back into his office. As soon as he disappeared through the doorway, I turned back to Peggy.

"I need you to get him out of his office for, like, five minutes between when I finish cleaning out my desk and when I head out of here. I'm gonna put all the papers and stuff I don't need in his desk."

Peggy grinned. "I'll make sure you have the window of opportunity you need."

"I knew I could count on you."

We snuck a high-five before Jack could notice, then I headed over my desk to start the packing process in earnest. There really wasn't much I needed to get, since I'd brought most of the things I needed with me to LA the first time, but a handful of the things I'd collected found a temporary home in my bag. Even better, the stack of trash I was planning to stick in Jack's office was substantial, and just like Peggy'd promised, she dragged Jack away from his desk long enough to give me just the opening I needed.

I stepped out of his office and back into the bullpen after finishing my mission, and a moment later, Peggy and Jack came around the corner to join me. I smiled at the both of them.

"Desk's been cleared. Papers are done. I think... I'm officially all finished up here."

"You sure I'm not going to find some trash you forgot about when I try to put somebody else at your desk?" Jack asked, hands on his hips. I rolled my eyes and sighed, responding without missing a beat.

"Of course not, Jack. You're not going to find any forgotten trash in my desk. Come on."

All true, technically. Peggy grinned at me, but I managed to keep a straight face as Jack put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"...I guess this is it, then, huh?"

"I guess it is."

I sighed, looking around at the empty bullpen one last time. I hadn't been working out of this office for a while now, and it's not like I'd never be back. But something about having my desk packed, ready to head out the door with the last of my roots pulled up still hit me a bit.

"I'm... gonna miss you guys," I said, shaking my head as I turned back to my two friends. Jack rolled his eyes, since we'd already exhausted his reserve of sincerity for the day, but Peggy gave me a soft smile.

"We'll miss you too. And you can expect regular visits from us in the winter, when we're sick of the snow and need to use our friends for access to the sunshine in Los Angeles."

I grinned. "As long as you promise to bring real pizza with you whenever you visit."

"Deal."

We shared a smile, and thankfully, before any of us could get any sappier, Daniel walked through the door, his meeting with his contact apparently over with.

"Hey," he said, giviing me a smile as he walked over to join us. He leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then pulled back with a smile. "You ready to go? Our favorite breakfast place is waiting for us."

I smiled, then gave Daniel a nod. We were technically on vacation, so we'd planned to spend the rest of our day on a tour of all of our favorite places in New York city.

"We'll see you guys for dinner tonight, right?" Daniel asked as he took my hand, the two of us taking a few steps towards the door.

"As long as you're buying," called Jack, and Peggy nodded. Daniel shot him a thumbs up as I rolled my eyes, and just like that, Daniel and I were standing on the threshold of the New York SSR.

"You ready?" Daniel asked, leaning in to whisper to me. I took a deep breath, sparing one last moment of reminiscing for the place I'd spent so much of my life in over the last few years, then turned to Daniel with a smile.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

He smiled back at me, giving my hand a quick squeeze before we turned our backs on the office, officially and completely moving forward together. It still stung a little to be leaving, but not nearly as badly as it could've, since I knew and loved where I was heading.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[multifandomfanficss]

More Than I’m Willing To Lose Part 1

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Featuring platonic!11th Street Kids

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Prompt: After Project Butterfly, ARGUS decided to make some new additions to the team. You and Adrian have been secretly, hopelessly in love with each other for a year now, but are unaware of the other person’s feelings. Tired of waiting for Adrian, you decide to go on a date with someone else that doesn’t end very well. This is Adrian x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Reader injury, mentions of vomit, gun violence, panic, hospitals, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language

A/N: So funny story…I’ve actually had the first two chapters of this in my drafts since last August because I was afraid if I posted them I would never finish the fic. A year later I actually wrote two more chapters, even though this was originally only supposed to be three parts. The chapters are done, but are still going through some proofreading and light changes. I’m gonna post a chapter once a week. The original concept for this story was to write what I called at the time “the ultimate hurt/comfort”. The concept I started with was based on an episode of Criminal Minds, but it expanded overtime. I hope you guys enjoy!! ❤️🧜‍♂️❤️

You were happily kicking your feet back and fourth at the table waiting to be let go from the debriefing. After everything went down with the butterflies, ARGUS decided it would be best to expand their small Evergreen team. You were the first addition. They had planned on adding more, but after a year you were still waiting on a big enough mission to present itself for you to be assigned more muscle. Truth be told Harcourt, Adebayo, Vigilante, and Peacemaker could handle themselves. You were great help in the van when Economos needed it. An extra hand was always needed on computers and medical needs. You weren’t a fighter, but you still found your place on the team.

“What are you so happy about?” Adebayo asked in a chipper tone.

“I have a date tonight.” You say blushing. You hadn’t been on a date in a long time. Truth be told, you were holding out for a certain team member of yours, but you feared Adrian would never get the hint and ask you out, let alone even have feelings for you, so you were doing your best to move on. He sat up a little straighter in his chair and stayed uncharacteristically quite, but you didn’t really notice. You were preoccupied by thoughts about your date and questions from your teammates.

“You got a date? Who would wanna date you?” Chris laughs. You roll your eyes.

“A really hot guy! Who’s much cooler and better look than you!” You laugh back at him. You know he’s just teasing, but you can’t help, but feel just a little hurt. You push down the feeling.

“Where did you two meet?” Leota asks.

“At a bar. He walked up to me and we started talking. It was mostly about work, but I didn’t mind listening to him. His job sounded super interesting.” You tell them.

“What do you mean you talked about work? Your job is a secret.” Adrian finally spoke up.

“Well he actually did most of the talking. He doesn’t actually know anything about computers so I just rambled on about coding. He thinks I work as a computer specialist at Best Buy.” You laugh. Adrian’s face stays deadpan.

“What does he do for work?” He asks.

“He’s a lawyer, I think. I don’t know. I can’t really remember what kind of law he specializes in.” You say, hoping to end the conversation. His eyes bore into you.

“Well that’s very exciting and I hope you have fun, but not too much fun. We have to all have to be here at 9am tomorrow.” Harcourt reminds the team. Everybody groans. The meeting ends and you start walking to your car, but Adrian stops you.

“I don’t think you should go on that date.” Adrian starts.

“And why not?” You ask.

“I just have a bad feeling. I don’t think this guy is who he says he is. You barely know anything about him! What if he’s some sort of criminal?!” Adrian begs you to not go on the date. You can’t help, but begin to bubble with anger. This is the first date you’ve gone on in over a year thanks to Adrian and he doesn’t want you to go on this one and the only reason he can pull out of his ass is his stupid intuition? No. You’re going on that fucking date.

“I’m not who I say either. Does that make me dangerous? I appreciate your concern, but I’m going on the date, Adrian.” You say, before leaving him in the parking lot.

Maybe you should have listened to him. The date was nice, but if you were being honest you did feel like he was hiding something. You pushed down the feeling though because you knew you were hiding something too.

Your date Jack was nice enough. He paid for the date and walked you home. It wasn’t until you got home that you felt not just uneasy, but scared. You were walking up the stairs to your door when you heard a clicking noise. You worked around guns enough to know exactly what that sound was. You slowly turned around to confirm your suspicions.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Shut up. I’m the one asking the questions.” Jack says. You nod, feeling your breath catch in your throat. It isn’t often you’ve found yourself in trouble like this, but on the rare occasion this did happen your team was always there to keep you safe. Adrian was always there to keep you safe. A tear slipped down your cheek at the thought of Adrian. He told you not to go on this date and you didn’t listen to him. Now you were never going to see him again. “Where is the Task Force X headquarters?” He asks.

“What?” You ask.

“Come on, dumbass! I know you’re on their team. You’re going to tell me everything you know, including who Vigilante is and what you’re currently working on and you’re going to tell me quickly or else you’ll never see your team again.” He rambled, stepping closer, gun pointed at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You cry and play dumb.

“You should really get better security on your home computers. Your computers at work are fine, but the second you got home and pulled out your little laptop, you were mine.” That’s when you stop dead in your tracks. You always do your work from headquarters. Always. Except for the day you worked from home sick.

“I don’t really need you. I could just take your laptop. I just thought this would be more fun. After all, the thrill came entirely from stringing you along. Burglary isn’t really my style and I didn’t really feel like taking the time to hack into your laptop. You were so eager to go out with me too. I barley had to ask.” He laughs before pulling the trigger. You feel a sharp pain in your shoulder and you fall to the ground with a scream, at least you think you screamed. You can’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears. You can’t move. All you can do is cry. You feel hands all over you, searching your pockets. Your keys are taken from you as you watch Jack break into your house. As quickly as he’s in, he’s out, laptop in hand. He’s got what he needs and now he’s going to leave you to die. The ringing starts to go down and you start to feel hands on your body again. You try to move, but cry out in pain. You clench your eyes shut in both fear and pain.

“Please don’t touch me. Please. Please get away from me. Please don’t hurt me anymore” You beg. You don’t know who is above you, but you just hope it isn’t Jack or whoever he may be working with.

“Shhh it’s gonna be okay. I’m here. It’s me. It’s Adrian.” You hear his calming voice and you open your tear stained eyes to see him above you in his Vigilante suit. Your steady stream of tears turns into sobs. You hear footsteps approaching quickly and you start to hyperventilate.

“Peacemaker!” Adrian calls over his shoulder. When you realize it’s just Chris you calm down a little. “We need to get them help.” Adrian says, voice quivering.

“What happened?” Chris asks in shock.

“You were right.” You cry out, taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have gone on the date. You were both right. Who would want to go on a date with me? I should have known.” You hiccup through your cries. Chris stiffens.

“Hey, don’t talk like that! We need to go get them help.” Adrian says. You let go of any tears you were previously holding back.

“Please don’t leave me!” You cry. Adrian weaves one hand through your hair and the other holds your cheek as he lightly brushes his thumb across your skin.

“I promise I’ll never leave you. Peacemaker’s gonna go get my car.” Adrian promises.

“I am?” Chris asks.

“Yes, you are dude.” Adrian says, tossing him his keys. Chris runs a couple blocks to the car.

“I’m sorry.” You whine after your sobs subside a little.

“Why are you sorry?” Adrian asks.

“I didn’t listen to you. I should have listened to-“

“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Adrian cuts you off. Your eyes start to feel heavy.

“Hey, stay with me. Stay awake.” He shakes you lightly.

“I’m so tired. Adrian, I’m so scared. Am I going to die?” You ask him. You think you might faintly hear the car pulling up.

“No, I’m not going to let that happen. Peacemaker’s here. We’re going to take you to the hospital. This is going to hurt, okay?” Adrian asks. You nod and brace yourself, but when he picks you up you don’t think you could have prepared yourself for that kind of pain. You scream and grip his arms, chest, neck- anything you can hold onto.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Adrian rambles out a spew of apologies. Chris hits the gas pedal as soon as you are in the back seat with Adrian.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” You whine.

“It’s okay. You can get sick if you need to. I won’t be upset with you.” Adrian secretly cringes at the thought of you throwing up in his car, but he knows you can’t help it.

“Actually can you try to hold it in because if you get sick, I’ll get sick and I can’t drive and throw up.” Chris requests. Adrian gives him a death glare from the rear view mirror. The two speed to the only hospital they know they can go to, the hospital they all went to after the final fight with the butterflies. The staff is less than happy to see Vigilante and Peacemaker walk back in, but they already know what the two men look like under the mask and the helmet, so it was the safest place to go. When you arrive you’re immediately placed on a bed and rolled away.

“No, I need him! Please!” You scream as you’re hauled away from Adrian. You don’t know wether to call him Adrian or Vigilante because your consciousness is slipping and you can’t remember what he’s dressed as, you just know you need him by your side. The nurses hold you down.

“Don’t move. You’re going to make things worse. He’ll be in the waiting room until you’re out of surgery.” The nurse promised. It broke Adrian’s heart to hear you cry for him and not be able to run to you, but he knew if he interfered that it would only take them longer to help you. The truth was he was scared too. He had never been this scared before. He had never felt like this in his life. He realized he was now also on the verge of throwing up.

“They’re gonna be fine.” Chris promised, placing a had on Adrian’s shoulder. He wasn’t 100% confident, but Adrian didn’t need to know that.

By the time you woke up, the whole team was there and Adrian was in his street clothes again. You saw everyone standing outside the waiting room talking while Adrian slept in a chair with his head against your mattress. You couldn’t really understand what they were saying so you just tuned them out. Instead you focused on Adrian’s breathing and his soft messy curls. You traced each curl with your eyes to calm yourself.

Outside your room the team was talking about you and, little did you know, Adrian.

“I’ve never seen him like this before. I’ve never seen him care so much about someone.” Chris starts.

“I thought he didn’t have emotions.” Economos questions.

“Everyone has emotions, even Adrian.” Adebayo added.

“It’s true. I’ve seen him cry before.” Harcourt added her two cents. They all give her a look.

“But can we at least agree he’s being MORE emotional than usual?” Economos asks. They all nod.

Back in the room you decide to start playing with Adrian’s hair. He jolts awake, only to realize it’s just you and he relaxes into your fingers. He then fully realizes it’s you again and practically jumps out of his seat.

“You’re awake! I’m so thankful that Peacemaker and I were patrolling that area and heard the gun shot. Never do anything like that to me ever again!” Adrian exclaims.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.” Adrian sighs, taking your hand in his. The rest of the team must have heard your conversation because they start to shuffle in.

“Hey, kid.” Chris says softly. You always hated that nickname when you started to work with the team, but you had grown to love it. It was given to you because you were the youngest on the team. You were a few years younger than Adrian making you over 10 years younger than Chris.

“How are you feeling?” Adebayo asks.

“Not so hot.” You make an effort at a laugh. You grip Adrian’s hand a little tighter unintentionally and he gives your hand back a squeeze to remind you he’s there. It’s hard to feel all of the spotlight on you. You can’t help, but feel like you’ve fucked up badly. John shifts uncomfortably where he stands.

“I’m gonna head back the van. I’ll be on coms when you get what you need.” Economos starts to head out.

“What do you need?” You ask.

“Could you give us some privacy?” Harcourt asks for the room. Chris and Adebayo leave to stand outside the door. Adrian reluctantly stands up, but you don’t let go of his hand. It’s embarrassing how you hear your heart monitor increase at the thought of him leaving you again. Harcourt must sense or literally hear your panic, despite trying to keep it down.

“Chase can stay if you want.” She says. You nod and he sits back down. Your heartbeat falls into a steady pace when he starts to rub his thumb against your hand.

“I need to ask you a few questions. They might be kind of hard to answer, but it‘s very important you answer them to keep yourself and the rest of us safe. You can take a break at any time.” She tells you and you nod. The first questions she asked were about Jack’s appearance. It was easy to describe hair color, but when you had to go more into detail it almost felt like you were back there with him. Your heart monitor increased again. You felt a tear slip down your cheek. You avoided looking at Adrian. You should have listened to him when he told you not to go on the date. You then went into detail on what he was looking for and what he asked you. By the end you were crying so hard you could barely get out the words.

“I think they should take a break.” Adrian told Harcourt.

“No, I have to keep going.” You told him.

“No, you don’t (Y/N). You can take a break.” She tells you.

“I have to keep going. It was my fault. First I didn’t check to make sure my connection was secure on my laptop and then I went on a date with him even though you said I shouldn’t. I should have believed you and Chris. Why would a guy like me? It’s my fault. He said I made it easy.” You cry.

“It’s not your fault. Chris was just being an asshole. You are worthy of attention from guys. It’s not your fault you try to see the best in people. Hell, I wonder what you see in me and why you’re my friend everyday.” Adrian says. Truth be told you see much more in Adrian than you’ve ever told him. You think you might love him, but you know you can’t say that. You can’t handle the rejection right now.

“I’m going to go out to the van. I think John’s got something.” She informs you. You forgot they were wearing coms and you weren’t. It was odd to not have their voices in your ear.

After everyone is gone you look back to Adrian.

“Hey Adrian, can I ask you a favor?” You ask.

“I’ll do literally anything for you.” You smile at him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” You trail off, embarrassed by your request.

“What is it? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” Adrian says, very adamant on helping you.

“Can you lay in bed with me and hold me?” You ask quietly. He smiles.

“Move over.” He instructs you as he helps you settle into the other side of the bed. He takes off his shoes and slowly climbs in, sliding his arms around you. You place your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. You start to drift off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his chest rising and falling with his breath.

“I promise I’m never going to let anything like this happen again. I’m going to keep you safe. I’ll make this right. I love you.” He says as you fade away. He must have thought you were already sleeping. You would respond if you didn’t feel so heavy. You’re not even sure if you heard him right. You could just be high on pain meds. You probably just imagined it.

[comesitintheclover]

Six Sentence Sunday Monday 📚📜🖊️

Thank you so much for the tag @bookish-bogwitch! your chart is awesome!

I will remember to try that/ a similar thing if I keep having issues with this fic I'm writing (but I should at least try to slog through a first draft of my trouble chapters first - i just get so anxious that I will fuck up the funny-conflict and make it miserable or something when it's 'perfect' (but vague af) in my brain and has been that way for 4 years...).

And thank you everyone who has tagged me in the last months/year <3 @nausikaaa, @ileadacharmedlife, @monbons, @supercutedinosaurs, @brendughh, @rimeswithpurple, and anyone else if I missed you because my tumblr notifs won't go that far back 😭💗💞💖 I love you all! Thank you for including me in the community even when I haven't been writing for a while! It's been so inspiring seeing what you all have been up to and I've finally started writing again so yay!

My goal is to finish this fic I've been writing for four years (i've written what I'm estimating is 50k words freehand and am transcribing and editing them onto my laptop and I still need to write the other half ... hahahaha 😅. But I love it. ) called *The Long Summer*, within a month (the first draft at least, I'll come back and edit it at a later date. I want to post it on ao3 over a summer so hopefully I will be ready next summer! I need to write it while I still love it!), and then I want to write the first draft of an original story for a month or so/NaNoWriMo, and then I will pick one of my Carry On WIPs to work on (hopefully just in time to celebrate snowbaz's anniversary!)

(The Carry On WIPs in question: I'm thinking I will probably pick my soulmate au fic called Meet the Parents/When You're an Adult You'll Understand, or a trans au called Fraternity house, orrrrr this magical Agony-Aunt fic called Basilton Grimm-Pitch’s 10 Step Plan for Getting Over*(letting himself be in love with) Simon Snow ).

And I'm planning to interact more with wip-wednesdays and six-sentence-sundays from now on to keep me motivated and accountable! (hopefully this works, battling my motivation is like trying to wrestle a fish or something... i'm constantly at a loss with my brain - oh why won't I do things that I love and have time to do??)

....Oh and I want to make some Carry On animations.... (this is probably why I don't do things... Too ideas many and hard to pick. I tried to make a schedule last night that included everything I wanted to do in a day and it was 35 hours long... oops).

*The Long Summer* is a harry potter fic, and since I know all of you lovely people from Carry On, and I know lots of people avoid hp stuff for obvious reasons (JKR is wrong! Trans liberation now!), I will keep the rest of this under the cut <3

here are the first six sentences from my 💗beloved fic💗:

Ron Weasley wasn't an introspective soul. By the time something actually rolled around to happening he would probably have had twelve chances to predict it, if he was Hermione. He presumed something like this would never have happened to Hermione. Summers were probably a lot more quiet in the Muggle world, as an only child, with parents who weren’t - well Hermione was so smart she probably already knew, no there was really no reason to write to her. And Harry - well he didn't want to write to Harry about it either.  Honestly, it would probably be better if he never found out.

(I wrote these when I was 16 and they may need editing but that's for future me to worry about - rn I'm trying to push out a first draft as fast as possible...)

Thank you to anyone who read this far!

Hi!'s, tags, and hand-hearts to everybody 🫶 @stitchy-queerista, @umdiasujo, @carpeosculum, and open tag to anyone who wants to be tagged! <3

[equestrianequivalent]

QuintSum has been finished. What now?

Yes, you read that right. I've finished the first draft of QuintSum. I'm done. I told you, I said I would be, and I finally am! So, what now?

Well, the short answer is that I'm going to release it all on Ao3, but there's a few things to discuss related to that process, because that won't be done in a day either.

How will you release the fic?

These will be the 8 arcs that are currently NOT on Ao3, and a rerelease of the first 4 arcs and finally releasing the last chapter of Goldenhills (29). This is how this will work in more detail:

Currently, I have reuploaded chapters 1-18. The next batch, as you can see above (at the time of writing), is 19-24. Then we will simply follow suit. All in all, it will be 18 individual releases, with 15 yet to come.

First things first:

Chapters 1-28 will be rereleased. Chapter 29 will be uploaded. This will happen first. I will not announce when the chapters are being rereleased, but once I have uploaded chapter 29, which I will announce, you can be sure that the rest of the fic is up to date.

ALSO, IMPORTANT: Remember how I said that you wouldn't need to reread the reuploaded chapters? I lied. You should probably reread the fic. Just saying. I have changed way more than I ever could've predicted that I would, and it shows. You're probably not going to understand a Solid amount of basic knowledge the characters hold at certain points, nevertheless what each character is thinking and why, especially not how we got to this point, if you don't reread the first 28 chapters. But also I'm not your mom you can do whatever you want.

After this, we will go 1-3 releases Per Arc. Most arcs will be released in two halves, as you can in the screenshot above. The short explanation is that this means there will be less releases with more chapters. (And don't let the low chapter count fool you, the wordcount goes haywire sooner than you think.) There is 135 chapters in total, it would take me over a year to upload this entire thing even if I released two chapters per week. And I don't want to do that. Therefore, I will release them per arc, which is a collection of chapters about the same part of the story, pretty much. Those releases will look as follows:

Arc 5: Chapters 30-35. (One release)

Arc 6: Chapters 36-51. (Two releases)

Arc 7: Chapters 52-59. (One release) (<- Most subject to change, this bitch is a complete mess in terms of chapter length already. Stay tuned to see how I deal with that I guess!)

Arc 8: Chapters 60-84. (Three releases)

Arc 9: Chapters 85-103. (Two releases)

Arc 10: Chapters 104-109. (One release)

Arc 11: Chapters 110-116. (One release)

Arc 12: Chapters 117-135. (Two releases)

I cannot say when these will be uploaded, but this means that there will be 15 releases of chapters. This is how it's going to work on My end of things:

I will edit and finalize the chapters in each release, and then upload that entire batch on Ao3 together. This will take however long it may. I have no deadlines and no goals to hit. It'll be done when it's done. Then I will release a post announcing that this arc has been uploaded, with a link to the First chapter in that arc. This will repeat until we reach the last chapters. And then we're done. It is Way less complicated than it sounds, all you need to do, really, is remember that I will release things less consistently, but when I do release, believe me, you will have stuff to read.

How long is this fic?

135 chapters. And the wordcount of the first draft ended up at 280k words. It will probably be a little more on Ao3 because I always add stuff when I revise. So far I'm 100% on track to double the final draft, but don't hold me to that. I'm personally assuming it'll be somewhere between 350-450k words.

What is important to keep in mind?

The tags. The fucking tags. Please. PLEASE. Read the tags. I have consistently talked on my main about how the biggest goal of QuintSum has been to "make Elizabeth's death worth it". Third-party sources would agree that I have done just that. Deia is also written with pretty heavy anxiety at times, and considering that Deia takes from my own experiences with both anxiety and autism, I can't exactly promise that it won't hit close to home for some people. Other than that, you can expect pretty standard things from the game. And a few near-death experiences here and there. Nothing is explicit, you're not going to get any detailed descriptions for anything, I don't think. While the final version does contain third person narration and description now, we're not going that far with it, I promise.

I will also release a little arc summary with each new arc released, this will be in the post on tumblr, and in the chapter summary of the first chapter of each arc. I will say tho, remember that I rate this story T, that rating speaks louder than Most of the tags. The tags aren't lying, but the severity of it is dictated more than anything by the rating.

Anything else?

Tell @jorvikzelda that you love them because they're the entire reason that I started, nevertheless finished this fuckass fic of mine. Stay tuned for the release, boys, we fucking made it.

(If you want some sporadic updates because I can't shut up, I'm always yappin over at @shiroselia and otherwise you can find me at Ao3 as per usual)

Cheers!

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where I give myself stupidly niche requests according to this marvelous card… or something. It’s been three years dawg. (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled).

Besides, if I didn't mess up in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

This fic is quite a long time in the making. I started working on it last year, before I even had the idea for Rice Vinegar, a previous entry in this bingo card series. I was reading/catching up to the absolute banging series that is Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire by @inkblackorchid. I was on my yearly YGO kick, this time mostly 5D's-related (it's either 5D's or Arc-V, I've come to notice) and reading Snapping Jaws and Piercing Horns (which you absolutely should read, btw, but I have a sneaking suspicion that, if you're reading this, then you've at least heard of SJPH), when the idea for this fic came to me. I really like the friendship between Aki and Crow that the series sets up during the WRGP arc, because it's got my two favourite 5D's characters involved and also it's got canonical whump material linked to it and I'm a sucker for that stuff. Everything was here for success; I was unemployed at the time so I had a bunch of free time on my hands, the inspiration was crisp and I could fuck around and find out with writing new characters I hadn't before. Issue: I hated what I was actually writing.

Since I was reading InkBlackOrchid's works, I was like "God, I need it to be as good as hers". Problem is, I don't have her writing style at all, all the while I was somehow attempting to pastiche how she writes Aki's POV. The result was a very spiteful narration that doesn't even fit Aki at this point of her character development or even the story I was trying to tell in the first place, and a lot of clumsy descriptions. It was bad, y'all. Now, that was the first draft. I had abandonned it at first, thinking I'd just never do anything with it nor with the idea I had, but I just happened to look at my AO3 subscriptions, remembered the banger 5D's fic series, and finally went on InkBlackOrchid's Tumblr. Reading her Autopsy of Crow series of posts reminded me of my WIP and made me want to finish it so I could throw my two cents in the 5D's fight.

I mention Brimstone in my Garden, Roses set on Fire this much because my love for this series is a genuine explanation for some elements of this fic. I like its version of canon so much I wrote established Faithship into this fic as if they were actually dating by this time of the series, forgetting that actually didn't happen in 5D's proper. Sorry not sorry on that front, btw, I've always shipped them and I don't think I'll stop anytime soon. The very first version of this idea wasn't even going to delve into Aki losing her powers after her crash pre-Team Catastrophe (my very own guilty pleasure of a duel, I actually really like it lol), but since I was so inspired by something that did, I figured I had to tackle the question as well. I hope it doesn't fall flat on its face. Be Careful what you Wish for had me by the gametes.

Wow, I had a lot of things to say for something that's kind of just whump I decided to write on a whim like a year ago, huh. I don't even know if my characters sound right (as in, I think my Aki is OOC, she's too open if that makes sense?), it's my first rodeo and it's scary but hey, getting out of your comfort zone is how you improve, ain't it? I don't know if this story is good, I didn't really rewatch 5D's before writing it, just pantsed it out based on memory and what I rewatched earlier this year (I think it was this year? I remember writing a post for my side Tumblr back then mentioning Max Verstappen out of all people and I wasn't into F1 until late 2023. Anyway).

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

Outside the Comfort Zone

Summary: Aki passes by Yusei and Co.'s living quarters to retrieve a copybook. Crow makes it way harder than it has any right to be. (or: a recently-ish powerless Aki finds herself having to care for a very stubborn, unwell Crow, and it goes as well as you'd expect.)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's (set during the WRGP arc)

Word Count: 4K words

AO3 version available here.

Event run by @badthingshappenbingo

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There’s something off with the garage of Poppo’s Time, today.

Oh, of course, most of it is obvious: the air’s still, there’s a distinct lack of mechanical clicking and Yusei isn’t here. It’s a minutia of various little details that, added together, make the entire place tilt forty-five degrees to the left.

It’s, unfortunately, not just these which make her feel this way. Frankly, if it was, Aki would’ve already gone out the door and back home. She’s just here to recover a copybook and it should’ve only taken her mere minutes to do that; yet there she is, ten minutes after stepping on the other side of the door, still without her biology copybook, still in a home that isn’t hers, and unsure of where to take the situation next.

The reason might just be the odd-looking Crow that’s standing in the way between her copybook and her.

Is she friends with said Crow? Yes? Maybe? “Friends” sounds a bit strong for their relationship, she’d say; there are no strangers to each other, and she likes sharing a room with him enough to consider them on friendly terms, but they don’t share enough emotional intimacy for them to be friends. At least, that’s how she sees it – maybe he sees it another way.

(Or maybe they’re already friends, and she’s just too afraid of rejection to admit it to herself – better be safe than sorry, even around the most transparent person she knows).

Whatever their relationship is, what Aki knows without much doubt is that Crow isn’t looking like himself. His stance is slouched and unsteady, his hand is holding the doorway just a little too tight for comfort and his eyes look mussed. It’s like his gaze, while explicitly trying to focus on her, is instead looking at something right behind her – as if seeing through her, which is a thought Aki truly has no time to unpack.

“Oh, hi Aki,” he tells her with an indignant wave, head bobbing along with the sway of his hand.

“Goo – good afternoon.”

His smile turns into a puzzled expression, which doesn’t help the impression she’s gotten so far. He looks around, his left eye twitching and his brow furrowed, then looks back at her when it seems like he hasn’t found what he wanted.

“You not hangin’ out with Yusei?”

Aki almost freezes.

“What do you mean?” She asks back, a shiver going down her spine.

Crow’s brow furrows even further, finally pointing her in the direction of the dark rings under his eyes.

“What do you mean, what do you mean? You come here to hang with Yusei, right?”

“He’s… He’s not here, Crow,” her voice staggers against her will. “He’s in Peru with Jack. I just came her to get a copybook I forgot here.”

The reminder, as useless as it should’ve been, seems to have confused him even further.

“Why the fuck would they go to Peru?” Crow asks, anger sipping in his tone. “That’s on the other side of the damn planet!”

He then hacks a lung out, prompting Aki to jump out. It’s harsh, not unlike the coughs she’d get when she was ill as a child and it seemed like the world was melting around her, psychic powers mixing in with the fever – the powers who, like so many people before, have abandoned her.

The silence is too heavy. She can’t let herself falter now. She may be in danger – scratch that, she’s fine, Crow is the one who needs help as far as she’s concerned. They’re friends, or as close as it gets, and she needs to step up now that his foster brothers aren’t here.

“They’re there to follow on a lead Bommer gave them.”

Her heart sinks a little further when all she sees is confusion. In fact, anything she says seems to result in confusion.

“How? That guy’s dead, y’know,” he gulps with a wince. “I know. I watched it happen. And, like, the dead don’t send emails.”

It’s an understandably difficult thing to swallow, she’ll give it to him. To this day, and despite her (former) psychic powers and links to the extrasensory through her Signer’s Mark, she still has little idea how Carly or Misty have managed to rise from the dead. It’s beyond either of their comprehension.

What shouldn’t be for Crow, however, is the whole travel thing. He was there when Yusei and Jack announced they were going. He must’ve been there to fret over them and their budget like Jack likes to complain about. So how come he cannot remember any of this? Why is he so—

“What time is it already?” Crow asks out of the blue.

It takes her aback, but she looks over her phone screen anyway.

“It’s fifteen to six in the evening.”

His face gets splattered in surprise.

“Shit! I’ve got a shift to attend to!”

“What shi—”

His hand lets go of the doorway.

“Sorry to leave this quick, Aki, I’m in a hurry—”

He walks past her, but before he can make it past her, he folds in half into another coughing fit. Fearing the worst, Aki runs to catch him with her arms, the click of her heels almost hiding the harsh sound of his cough. Heat sips through his clothes and through her gloves, ringing the final alarm that finally allows her to deduce what it was that bothered her so much about his appearance.

Despite the audible pain in his breath and the grimace on his face when he moves his arms, Crow still tries rising to his feet on his own. He weakly bats her away with his hands, but he has to lean against the nearest wall to stay upright. It’s an unreal sight, knowing how stubborn and enduring he truly is. Where is the man who was driving with an injured shoulder mere weeks ago?

“Is this shift really that urgent?” She makes no attempt at hiding her ever-growing concern. “You don’t seem like in any state to go to work…”

“What day of the week are we on?” is all he says back to her.

“It’s… Wednesday? Why?”

Crow’s face finally lights up.

“Oh! I’ve got some time ahead of me then.” He chuckles, but it dissolves into a cough, and she can’t keep her grimace to herself. “I thought we were Monday, for some reason?”

“You honestly seem very out of it,” she ends up bluntly stating instead of going along. “I really don’t think you should go work today.” Or tomorrow.

“Can’t afford not to,” he croaks back, but it lacks any sort of sting.

What looks to her like a dizzy spell ends up taking his resolution out, his whole body pitching forward. Once more, almost in rhythm, her body moves on its own as a result, her arms catching him in his fall.

Heat lingers on her hands even after she has finished bringing him to his room.

Unlike most of Team 5Ds, Aki has never had to care for someone else. She has none of Yusei’s instinct for help nor Crow’s experience with dealing with children. Usually, when faced with this sort of situations, she’d entrust the person in need of care to someone with a lot more ease in this domain – as it turns out, most of the time, it’s asking Jack’s childhood friends to handle his problems, much to his protests. As such, she’s never had to play nursemaid before, and nobody has trusted her with such a role until Yusei came along, and for once, she hadn’t wanted that to change (except for Yusei, but this is a situation that’s unrelated to her current predicament).

Whatever she’s used to, unfortunately, is now out of the realm of possibility. The two people she could ask about it on any other occasion where the need could rise up are respectively currently in Peru with terrible reception and too busy refusing to stay in bed for much longer than a minute to give her a precious hand.

And, you know, you don’t usually ask someone who’s sick to take care of themselves, let alone help you in the process.

Very much to her misfortune, this is all without taking into account that Crow is as stubborn as a patient as he is in every other thing. It was to be expected, of course, and Crow is nothing if not stubborn; but it hasn’t made anything easier. If anything, she should’ve seen it coming as soon as he was too beyond himself to know where his housemates were and why.

Still, it doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try her best in this situation. What friend would she be if she left a comrade in need on his own, harmful to himself? (And she craves for empathy, a part of her whispers, the part of her who misses her powers for the bond she enjoyed having with Black Rose).

Despite a losing battle against his own voice and the way his limbs tremble whenever he tries holding himself out of bed, Crow is insisting that, no, he’s fine to go work, and she has no reason to worry, because it’s not his first rodeo… or something along those lines. Admittedly, it’s difficult to understand everything when he’s struggling to push the sentence out of his throat to begin with, let alone articulate his thoughts.

All that ends up doing as a result is annoying her, because this is oh so similar to Yusei but in all the wrong ways, but that’s once more beside the point. She isn’t here to lash out her annoyance at Crow being an idiot, she’s here to make sure he doesn’t die an idiot.

“I’m tellin’ you, I’m fine,” he whines, a hand already back at gripping the edge of the blanket.

“Why are you so insistent on pretending you are?”

(She doubts it’s because of a martyr syndrome like Yusei’s).

“I’m not pretendin’ anythin’. I’m actually fine.”

His voice is feeble, his words tremble out of his mouth.

“Crow, I know you’re not. Please stop making this harder than it has to be.”

He deflates with a single, wheezing sigh.

“It’s Satellite nature, I guess,” he shrugs with a slight smile. “Both Yusei and Jack got it too, y’know.”

“Speaking of Yusei, right now you’re just like him in that regard.” She lets herself sigh. “Pretending like you’re fine when all signs point to the contrary.”

“Yeah, it’s… Y’know, when you were sick in Satellite, unless you had someone to shelter you and cover your back, ‘t was like signin’ your death certificate.” He coughs again, and it keeps dragging on, worsening, and it pangs at her heart every single time. “Guess that never went away, even now.”

“Even for something like a work shift?”

“Especially for a work shift. Do y’know how tight our finances are? Jack sure don’t seem to, that asshole!” A barking cough interrupts him. “Fuck this shit, I could be literally anywhere else but here. Plus…” He turns to her, and despite the evident weariness on his face and in his eyes, his gaze is sharp. “You should be doin’ better things with your time than watching over me, though.”

Aki rises an eyebrow.

“Such as?”

He shrugs again as a response.

“I dunno. Studyin’. Playin’ cards. Drivin’ a D-Wheel. Tryin’ to… sort through what mess that must’ve been for you, these past few weeks.”

The last bit hits her a lot harder than the previous ones. Having to replace Crow in haste due to a mysterious crash, the conflicting sentiment of her first race as a member of Team 5Ds, her own crash, and now, having to grapple with the sudden and unexplained disappearance of her powers… It’s been a lot of turmoil. Too much, in fact.

Despite all of the pain, it’s somewhat heartwarming to have someone genuinely worry for her, even if it tugs at an uncomfortable heartstring. It means she has the company she so desperately looked for and thought to have found in Divine, now truthful and actually what she needed. Yet, she feels uneasy when she has to show vulnerability in front of them, afraid of what they could take advantage of, of hidden intentions that may be hiding beneath a smile. Letting go of her masks has been terrifying, even if it’s the right thing to do.

For the longest time, she could protect herself with her powers. They were her curse, they were her blessing. They made her unlike the others but allowed her to connect with Black Rose and all of her deck. She misses them even now as she’s within the warmth of Team 5Ds; who don’t judge her for them like the others. Who care for her, like Yusei has ever since meeting her, like Crow is at the moment. Even in pain, they care.

The least she can do is pay them back now that gets the chance to. Now that her powers have left her more vulnerable than ever and created a void she can’t seem to fill on her own.

“I’ll be fine not brooding about it for a while,” is all she tells him in response.

Because it’s the truth. Sometimes, letting the dark clouds consume you is worse. It’ll always be worse, no matter how easy it looks.

“You sure? Because watching over an ill guy gets boring real fast.” He gives her a small smile. “I’d know, I’m usually the one doing the watching.”

She replies with a smile of her own.

“A bit of calm would do the both of us some good, I believe, after all that happened.”

He closes his eyes with a deep sigh.

“Can’t go against that, I guess.”

“Take some rest. I’ll be here by the time you wake up.”

It’s not intended to be a lie to make him feel better about sleeping.

“If you’re lookin’ for it, the medicine is in the cabinet in the bathroom. Pretty sure we got the right stuff at least.”

“I’ll go get it.”

That, and a basin of water, and everything she can remember from hazy memories of childhood illnesses.

Yusei once told her to write down thoughts that were confusing to her, as a way to at least alleviate the black clouds in her mind. He helped her pick a cute-looking notebook for it too, just the size of her uniform pockets, red with an embroidered rose on top of it. It seemed too fitting not to pick it, and Yusei seemed even happier about it than she was. She isn’t sure if what she’s writing in it right now makes sense, but it feels nice to have a place where to dump all of the thoughts that’d usually fester and poison her mind nonetheless.

The loss of her powers continues to leave her at a loss. The best way she can describe the feeling is a bittersweet void it’s left behind: she’s finally normal, like she wished for so long when pretending to be a witch, yet now that she is, it’s like this life wasn’t for her. She misses the bond she had with her Monsters, now that she can’t caress Black Rose Dragon like she could for so long. It makes her feel lonelier in a way that’s wrong to her. It’s like she never knew what she actually wanted out of life, out of the world.

Writing down this loss, this void and this coldness is what’s helping her process some of it. It onsets the way the melancholy would’ve taken ahead of her before she met Yusei and the others. It allows her some lookback and to keep her head out of the water until she can find a solution or get used to a new situation. It feels… soothing, at times, despite it just being scribbles on paper.

A hand strangles her arm, her hands lets go of her pen, her notebook falls to the ground.

“What—”

“Who the hell are you?!”

Shaken, she stares back at her assailant – a frazzled-looking Crow, his eyes glazed over and his pupils dilated. His breathing is erratic, coming out in little wheezes, his teeth gritting.

“I…”

Aki has no idea what to do. A stranger attacking her is no surprise, but a friend? Clearly, something is very wrong with Crow, and she has trouble connecting the dots as to why he’s in such a state. Did she not look after him hard enough? Is she just as neglectful as she was when she was isolated and lost, manipulated, used as a weapon? Is this retribution for that, to be forgotten by those she cherishes?

He lets go of her arm, seemingly against his will – it seems like he doesn’t have enough strength left to actually fight her. She can hardly breathe normally, every gasp of air coming quicker than the last, but she has to compose herself back anyway. She’s the one who’s supposed to fix things here, and now, she doesn’t want to destroy anyone further. Perhaps she can still find redemption.

“What’re you doin’ here?!”

Crow’s voice is unsteady, made all the worse by the cough that’s dried it into being hoarse, and his words slur together, making him very difficult to understand. Aki wishes she knew what do say back, but…

“I’m – I’m looking after you,” she explains back, because calming him down seems like a good idea.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, doubt just barely readable in his half-closed eyes.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Aki. I’m Yusei’s girl… I’m his friend. I’m your friend.”

His hands grab at her shoulders.

“What’s tellin’ me you are, huh?!”

She looks around the room, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the pressure from his knuckles on his shoulders are, and the heat sipping from them almost right into her skin, before finding a sign of reassurance.

“See this basin of water?” She points it with her finger, he follows it to the bottom of the chair where she sits. “It’s mine. I was trying to keep your fever in check.” That sounded like a good idea, at the time. “I’m admittedly… not great at it, unlike you are, but I’m trying.”

His gaze slightly clears up – and then his eyes flutter close and don’t open up, leaving him in her arms once more.

It’s sort of a wake-up call for Aki, as she puts him back to bed. She should’ve kept a keener eye, but instead got lost in thoughts. She was so sure she had done all of the right things already, yet there she is, only realizing after the fact she wasn’t careful by being attacked by a delirious guy who mistook her for the enemy. Talk about failing at the mission you assigned yourself.

She takes off her gloves and puts a hand on his forehead – his fever has gone back up when she wasn’t looking. It makes sense, miserably so. But this is no time to mop for herself, she must be more like Yusei. She must help out her friend even if she has her own issues. She can’t do anything about her powers, but she can do something so Crow doesn’t have to see things that aren’t there.

So she picks up the washcloth that fell onto his lap and twists it cold again, determined to correct her mistakes.

Aki is staring at Crow when he finally opens his eyes again. They’re clear, able to follow the way her hair sways when she backs up from the bed and back into the chair. Her back is trying to make her pay for the unnatural positions she made it endure, but it’ll have to bear through it for a bit. She’s not letting him down now.

“Hey,” he tells her, stifling a cough.

“Glad to see you awake again,” she confesses. “How are you?”

“Erh… Sore. Sick. You know the deal.” He sits up with the help of the headboard of the bed. “How long was I asleep for?”

“I’d say… an hour or so.”

“And you’re still here?” He chuckles, even if it dissolves yet again into a coughing fit. “Gah, forgot how much that sucked.”

“I… I didn’t want to leave you alone like this.”

“Don’t worry, I went through worse. I’m a big bird, I can deal with it on my own.”

The way she’s staring back at him must’ve looked suspicious, because he looks concerned, now, and it’s like cold water seeping through her socks.

“Hey… Did something happen?”

“No, nothing. It’s… it’s not important.”

“Tch, you’re like Yusei. ‘Not important’ my ass.”

“I don’t think I should tell you about it.”

“You’re not makin’ your case any easier. Shoot ahead anyway.”

Aki looks at her hands on her lap, her knuckles almost white. Her skin looks slightly red, especially without her gloves.

“You weren’t yourself earlier,” she manages to get out, “and you thought I was some sort of enemy.”

She can’t bring herself to look up and see what his reaction to that is. Her head’s weighing heavily on her neck.

“Shit, did… I did something to you, right?”

“You… You tried to attack me, yes,” and she realizes how bad that sounds, “but it’s nothing. You weren’t yourself and it wasn’t a big deal. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound like you are, though… Shit, I’m so sorry, Aki…”

She rises a careful eye, only to see pain distort Crow’s pallid face.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she replies. “I should’ve done a better job.”

“Hey. Look at me, Aki.”

Hesitantly, she does – and finds no anger, no disappointment in Crow’s eyes, only compassion.

“You didn’t have to put up with my shit, and I was trying to push you away, but you did it anyway. Attacking you was wrong no matter what. You’ve got a lot to deal with at the moment and none of this is me. Don’t beat yourself up for not handlin’ everythin’ perfectly.” He smiles. “So, thanks, Aki. Don’t worry about good ol’ me, I’ll handle myself from now on.”

Silence follows.

“Though I get why you’d doubt that. We don’t really have a good track record when it comes to that stuff, do we.”

“Not really, no,” she manages to chuckle. “But friends need to trust each other.”

“You catch on quick!” He coughs into his elbow. “I’m sure it’s starting to get late, your parents may be worried. You should head home.”

“Can I… Can I stay here for a little longer? At least until Bruno comes back from whatever errand he may be running. I’d… feel better if I knew someone could watch you over.” Like she’d like it if she was as vulnerable as Crow is right now. “It keeps me occupied too.”

He gives her a sympathetic look from which she wants to recoil, but stops herself from doing.

“Make yourself a home, then. Yusei’s bedroom should be available.”

He winks, right in time for her face to warm up.

“Thank you, Crow.”

“If you need an ear to talk to and I ain’t sleepin’, don’t hesitate, okay? I promise I won’t bite your head off this time.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

She doubts she’ll bother him with this when all she’s tried to make him do today was resting, but she very much appreciates the reminder. It’s always nice to know she’s not only accepted, but also cared for by people whose honest intentions she can be sure of.

It’s making her feel welcome, and just for that, she’s more thankful – her and her missing powers, her and her conflicting feelings it, her and her past that she’s just now feeling comfortable with disclosing anything about. Her and the ghost that may continue pursuing her in the future, but which are leaving her mostly unscathed for now.

Perhaps that’s what home is – and it may just take the shape of a friend’s bedroom, or of a garage.

[cutiedwaekki]

mr policeman ♡

— hey mister policeman i don't want no trouble

Changbin x Seungmin

summary : Where a Changbin overwhelmed by work follows the recommendations of his colleague Seungmin. But should he have?

contain : weight gain , weight gain denial , mention of thight clothes , button popping , public humiliation (?) , police AU

A/n : GUYS I'M FINALLY ON HOLIDAY YESS and my arms is a bit better now so here is a long awaited fic that I had in my drafts ♡

Enjoy ♡

☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ

—I fucking told my mom I'd be there tonight. She's gonna kill me. muttered the brunette as she filled out the paperwork they'd assigned him.

The District 9 police station seemed quiet, but it was full of officer just as passionate about their thirst for justice as they were about their work.

It's very simple: here, Seo Changbin, inspector, had to fill in the case file 143, since Jeongin, who was in charge of the case with him, had broken his arm by chasing the criminal.

The poor man was so stressed, and his poor mother kept sending him messages to make some blind dates for him. In fact, it was another date he'd missed that evening.

—Sunbae, you seem tense, are you okay? Asked then asked his colleague and office neighbor Seungmin.

The two of them had a Tom and Jerry kind of relationship, always bickering, but caring for each other only when things got really bad.

— Oh, it's nothing, but between my mother, the work I have to manage on top of Jeongin's chores and my neighbors who fuck every night, I think it'll be a miracle if I don't throw him in the Han River by the end of the week. The brunette massaged his temple , causing his friend to chuckle, and as if a light bulb had gone on above his head, he suggested something. I've got a good stress reliever I bet that could help. No sooner had he said this than Changbin turned his full attention to him. When I finish a file or feel I need it, I eat a praline, which motivates me to finish quickly and get my fix.

Changbin wasn't convinced, but no sooner had he mentioned it than Seungmin shoved a handful of pralines into his mouth, leaving Changbin to macerate them before swallowing. The sweet taste of the caramel that coated the peanut was a delight, an unimaginable sweetness, it was as if all his problems had vanished.

— See ? It works! exclaimed Seungmin proudly. Yes, I admit it, where did you buy them? Changbin asked curiously.

Seungmin simply smiled wryly, at least he had helped his friend to get better and was no longer preoccupied with his files or the messages his mother had sent telling him that Yeri's appointment was waiting for him.

☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ

— And another box finished, it's time for what? Praline time. The brunette seemed to have acquired the happy habit of grunting an praline ever since Seungmin had told him about it. He wasn't going to admit it, but from the first day he'd gone to bought some directly, he'd only taken one packet, thinking that given his stress, one would be enough. But when after two days the whole pack was emptied without a single crumb, he went back to the store and took a stock so he'd never run out.

Because yes, one praline was never enough, you needed at least one pignet to get the taste in your mouth, like a lollipop that you suck until there's nothing left.

But is eating so much hard-boiled caramel-coated kosher good for your health when you spend eight hours a day sitting on a chair, doing administrative work to replace your colleague? Definitely not. And although Changbin was a really atheletic, muscular guy, the lack of exercise and time was starting to show. After all, if he had to manage on the runway and go to dates that in 99% took place at the restarant, no wonder he put on weight.

His figure was still just as toned, well, you could still see his broad shoulders, his big arms, but added to that bulging cheeks, a prominent belly to which were added love handles so big they fell to the sides of his uniform and an ass so round and juicy that Seungmin could have sworn he'd seen it wedged into his seat once.

But let's get back to the story. Changbin euphorically swallowing his praline fist

— one praline for this case, another because Changbinie wrote over 200 words, another for-

— Changbin-nim ... about pralines ...

—oh they are sweets fallen from the sky

— yes surely but how to say ... you look quite ... fat

Changbin almost choked on a praline as he glared at hil. How dare he call him fat, he wasn't, uh?

After a few long seconds of trying to sit up, catch his breath after that effort and eat another praline, he pointed at Seungmin. You ... how dare you call him fat, this is a place of work an not a recreation center.

But Seungmin wasn't even offended by these words, he just smirked, concluding with As you wish.

But honestly, Seungmin would be lying if he said this new Changbin didn't trigger something in him. After all, he'd always found him attractive and had already openly asked him out for a drink after work, but it had never gone any further. But now ... ... he found him seductive, sexy and hot as hell.

How could he resist?

☆ミU^ェ^Uミ

—Yes and so in case to this folder I thought- Hey oh Felix are you listening?

-Shh look, Changbin's trying to get out of his chair but he can't it's so cute

Effectively , in the meantime and from eating other bags of pralines, Changbin had put on even more weight, going from a muscular, athletic body to a simple ball of fat, so fat that he'd been on the official administrative charge ever since chase with a crimminal went wrong.

His belly was so massive that you could see it through his shirt, it was so big that it was always resting on his knees. His chest, which he often flaunted with pec movements, had also rounded out and looked bigger than a C or even a D cup . But the biggest thing was still his ass, still round and juicy, shaking with every step he took, now he couldn't take a step without waddling, letting his whole body shake from the shock of his body weight.

But did Changbin seem to notice? No, not so much as to stop his addiction to pralines or to waddle away, as he'd gone from tons of dates to almost none at all. Anyway, he didn't mind, he loved the peace and quiet now.

—Wow, we've got to get this on film. When Jeongin sees it later, he'll be hallucinating.

—Changbin-ah do you need help? Felix asked politely, amused by the scene.

-N-No .. hff... i-i'm fine and finally after an umpteenth effort to get his ass out of the seat, he'd managed to do it, he was both proud and surprised to see that half the office had their eyes on him, the former jock turned to a pig.

—What, do I have something on my face? But the only response he got was from Seungmin, who discreetly pointing his shirt. Indeed, all his efforts had led to his blouse giving way at the seams and popping a few buttons in the process. Come one Sunbae, I'll help you find a solution Seungmin walked over to him and led him to the shop where he hoped to find a solution.

☆ミU^ェ^U☆ミ

Seungmin offered one of the district's XL jackets, which was often lying around for those who had a clothing problem.

I mean, it's mostly when someone get a a coffee stain, but rippint his shirt to the only strength of his fatty body was a first

—Am I fat? Changbin asked, visibly confused, the only one not yet aware of it.

— honestly... yes, you are huge

But Changbin swallowed his saliva, his ego had just taken a hit and now I understood why Mum wouldn't give me a date anymore. Nobody wants to date a pig

—If you think like that, then yes. Changbin looked up at him, confused. His puzzled look denoted Seungmin's confident face.

So confident that he approached him and placed a kiss on his lips.

—If you're looking for someone who wants to date this pig, call me.

Seunglin so left without saying a word

Changbin was perplexed and impressed by what had happened in the last few minutes.

Wait-

Seungmin was asking him out?

[n7punk]

"Superzero" Fic Notes

Superzero, my secret superhero AU, is finally done! As usual, it went way longer than predicted, but I had a lot of fun with it so thanks for being along for the ride. The fic notes are… long.

Epilogue Life:

Scorpia takes longer learning her powers than is “typical” as a result of the crack in the garnet, but it does slowly heal over in her care. Her powers are also just a particularly dangerous set, but she learns to aim them at the technology and weapons of those coming at her rather than the heart. It takes a bit of training, but eventually she joins them in the field. The entire Alliance considers her the most likely to compromise them, but she’s one of the fold, so they take her in.

Catra continues to train alongside her and eventually the papers pick up on a secret member of the Alliance between some odd occurences and the name Ghost being thrown around. It’s still just speculation that’s never confirmed, but Catra is a part of the plan.

With the Horde dissolved, they do still see the odd supervillain or group attempting to rise up in their place (the Crimson Waste, for once) so they still have superheroing to do, not to mention natural disasters to help out in, but they aren’t as busy as they were before. They have more time for each other. And also studying. Catra of course finishes law school and passes the bar, eventually becoming a lawyer. Adora is stupidly proud of her. She works in a clinic for a while before becoming a full vet herself, but she gets there too and they do end up with that bayview apartment she wants eventually.

Chapter 1: Chance Encounter

⦁ Adora was Going Through It™️ when she fought Shadow Weaver, as the breakup was still fresh and she needed an outlet, which ended up being Shadow Weaver’s face. The Alliance had been fighting her for years, and she was personally responsible for the incident that caused Adora to miss their date, so the next time Adora fought her, she was pretty much screwed. Years of terrorizing the Fright Zone and one interrupted date gave She-ra all the motivation she needed to take her down.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Melog’s capture was originally the button on this chapter, but I didn’t want them to be captured for that long so I decided to imply the library attack’s purpose earlier

Chapter 3: Overworked

⦁ “Catra can’t tell she’s looking at her cleavage” Well she couldn’t until Adora’s eyes snapped to meet her and then she felt the change. She didn’t know where she was looking but like, come on. She’s so lucky Catra was so tired.

Chapter 4: Movie Night/Return

⦁ The mentions of the kitchen light are a reference. Even if you have good taste you probably won’t draw the connection though lmao.

⦁ Originally, Adora was always supposed to use the window. In fact, in the first draft of chapter one (which ended up almost entirely rewritten), Catra’s backpack got left at the library so Adora had to bring her in through the window and that’s what established the pattern, but then I tried to write that and realized how logistically dumb that was. I still intended for her to switch to using the window pretty quickly, but I was basically just waiting for a good time for them to have the talk about her neighbors possibly seeing and by then I realized that my early idea for roof meetups just made more sense.

Chapter 5: Rooftop

⦁ Initially the fic was supposed to start here. I really wanted to write this fic for The Scene™️ (more on that later) so it kind of made sense to start the fic with Catra already friends with She-ra and then I’d get a chapter or two of these secret meetings and flirting, and then I would get into the kiss. When I went to write the fic, though, I decided I should show the initial rescue in a prologue kind of thing and then do some skipping forward through their friendship. I started writing chapter 2 though and it just kept continuing “in real time” and I absolutely couldn’t skip that angst because it was fun, so I ended up just writing the whole thing and having chapter 5 be more like what I thought 1 & 2 would be initially.

⦁ Catra assumed She-ra was stopping by when she had Alliance business in the area, and that is partially true, but Adora was also swinging by when she could disappear for a few hours without her roommate noticing/questioning it, which was easier said than done.

⦁ There was a line all the way back in chapter one that I cut for being awkwardly phrased, not realizing it was the establishing line for the fact that She-ra has been missing for a few hundred years. It was only when it came up again in chapter five that I noticed, and by then I had already posted almost everything leading up to it and there wasn’t anywhere to put it back in early. This is one of those things were, if this was a book, I would fix that on the second draft but you don’t really get a chance for that with fanfic. I had already posted chapter three by the time I realized so the earliest I could have added it was chapter four, and by then I decided to just wait until chapter five, since the part where that would actually become relevant wouldn’t be for a few chapters anyway, it just should have been set up sooner.

⦁ Adora immediately assumed Catra was talking about her when she mentioned a breakup, but she was also kind of worried she wasn’t and there had been another relationship in the interim that she didn’t know about. The whole conversation was rough for her. She was trying to comfort Catra while subtly encouraging her to think more about what could have actually happened, and she completely meant it when she said Catra deserved better (…than she had treated her).

⦁ While “breakup haircut” isn’t a phrase I’ve heard exactly, the concept of cutting all your hair off when you go through a big change — often a breakup — is definitely one I’ve seen around a lot. There’s entire songs about coming back into an ex’s life as a blonde. I mean, how many of us shaved our heads during the pandemic. Of course there was the added factor of not being able to get a haircut, but trauma haircuts — or hair dyes — are a definite thing.

Chapter 6: Mistake

⦁ As implied in the fic, the spell-storm was a side effect of Shadow Weaver trying to drain Melog’s magic. She couldn’t control it and it manifested physically in the environment.

⦁ Writing this fic was a really interesting challenge because of the unusual dynamic between Catra and She-ra. It was so weird to write Catra falling for someone who wasn’t Adora, but also was; not to mention She-ra backing off at weird times because she thought she might out herself to Catra, etc. Catra was wary of She-ra and she would have been way more so if she wasn’t a) a literal superhero and be) reminded her of Adora. The whole dynamic was really complicated, but it’s part of what made me want to write this in the first place, so even if it was really hard and I had to rewrite a lot, it was a good challenge

⦁ … That was part of what made me want to write this fic. The rest of was The Scene™️, which was the kiss and fall out in chapter 6. Pretty quickly Catra finding Melog and then the smug introduction with the Alliance became the “secondary” Ccenes that I also pushed towards when the rewrites were getting to me.

⦁ I had so many different ideas for how the reveal conversation could go I couldn’t possibly hope to fit them all into one and not have it be like twenty minutes of extended arguing, so after trying a couple variants, I settled on the lines that worked the best.

Chapter 7: Hindsight

⦁ This fic is interesting because, while I never really mention it or make it too explicit, it is partially nonlinear. The scenes with Melog, especially, were never intended to be signposted as taking place right where the other scenes were in the story. Another example is the kiss scene partially playing out twice from each perspective, and the start of chapter 6. Catra’s spiraling lasts well into the night whereas Adora’s following scene with Glimmer takes place earlier, right after Chapter 6 cut off.

⦁ Initially there was supposed to be an extended beat in this chapter where Adora thought she was being quietly kicked out of the Alliance (not completely, but that they were going to stop trusting her with anything other than punching). It didn’t end up fitting with the timeline, so it got dropped to like one line of speculation on her part in the Netossa scene, but the idea was going to be that the team gets called to another emergency like four days later and they don’t invite Adora. Now, that was actually because she was just recovering from being sick and walking around like a zombie, but she thought it was proof they were done with her and thus she went down to the Alliance sanctum to punch it out. A relic of this plan that I ended up keeping is when Adora says “I don’t care. I’m not doing this,” in the scene with Glimmer. The second half of the plot beat was, at the same time as Adora thought she was kicked out, the Alliance thought she might be quitting. They were giving her space both to recover and calm down, but with how badly she broke then, it seemed like she might have decided that she wanted to be done with the thing that had totally ruined her life. No one thought she would actually stay away, but they were giving her room to cool off.

⦁ Speaking of the punch-out scene, that was initially written all the way back in chapter 2. Basically I wrote the very beginning (Netossa tells her to talk and offering her the easy way, ending with the “drop the goddess act” part) with the idea being Adora was angsting over Catra, but pretty quickly I was looking at the set up and going oh this would be so much better later when she’s really angsting so I cut it out from there, tossed it in my Scrivener doc, and then reused the structure of it for this scene.

⦁ April 26th is the day season 2 of SPOP dropped. November 13th is when the show premiered. The other dates are made up bullshit.

Chapter 8: I Like the Idea of You

⦁ Which name Catra is using for Adora (Adora vs. She-ra) is  important in this scene. She is considering how she knew them as separate entities and using each name depending on that at first, and then she’s trying to just sink into the She-ra fantasy, and then she starts losing herself. She uses She-ra when Adora is especially confident, flexes her strength/powers, or Catra can’t see her face to contradict it — basically whenever Adora plays into her initial She-ra fantasies — and she uses Adora when she is being soft/gentle/meek, when Catra has an emotional connection to what’s happening, or sometimes just because she’s seeing her face and that’s Adora’s face, not the mask she pictured for She-ra. A weird example of this is the, uh, you know, spit string moment, where Catra is actually having an internal reaction to seeing Adora debauched/debauching her like she used to fantasize about. She’s also looking at Adora’s face again for the first time after looking away. I know there’s a lot of name-changing in this scene, but it all has a purpose, and part of my editing was making sure the right ones were being used for each moment. By the time Catra was really getting into it, though, the scene/Catra were getting away from me and taking control, and thus using Adora for every name, and I had to fix that in a few small places.

⦁ At this point I’m writing things in smut just based off the if I haven’t done it before. I’ve always written a range of stuff , but when writing this I found myself just doing things because they were new without much other reason as long as it still served the purpose I wanted for the scene.

Chapter 9: Ripples

⦁ The glamor is actually lowkey a reference to an earlier version of the fic idea where the Alliance just straight up didn’t wear masks and it was a Superman situation. The idea  was there would be a glamor (similar to the Mist in the Percy Jackson series) that would make it really hard to recognize someone for who they are, but could still be fought through. It was  one of the contender ideas but I quickly settled on just having them wear masks. The way the glamor actually works in-universe is that it makes it hard to notice similarities. So before meeting She-ra, Catra straight up couldn’t notice “hey, the Alliance is led by a trio that matches the description of Adora and her friends,” but once she saw She-ra’s face she had enough to be like “that’s Adora.” Conversely, if She-ra had been someone she didn’t actually know well like just one of her classmates she didn’t actually talk to, she still might not have been able to recognize her without the mask on. The glamor is not inherent to the runestones, but is a manifestation of their power that has come over the last four hundred years of the princesses living in secret. If a princess chose to be open with her identity, the glamor would ease as the runestone learned it didn’t have to help her hide. Basically, it’s a learned behavior of the runestones, not innate.

⦁ Usually in canon fics I have Adora tend to refer to She-ra as if she’s a third person (because Adora has a lot of issues feeling like she’s not living up to what She-ra should be, or putting She-ra and her duties above herself) and Catra  reacts like she finds that weird. The truth is Catra partially does, but she’s also training Adora to recognize she is She-ra, she doesn’t have to do anything more to be worthy of being herself, and she is the only one who gets to decide what She-ra’s duties are. This only really comes up in post-canon fics, where they both have had some Realizations™️. In this fic, Catra starts off trying to distance She-ra from Adora, so she reacts completely opposite to how she usually does and refers to She-ra as a third separate person for herself. Adora does this too, just like she always does. Catra only starts coming around slowly and changes her mind later.

⦁ Micah had his suspicions and he probably would have come even if he had known just because he would have been worried and felt like he could handle himself. The other princesses trying to comfort Angella with that at the time is part of why Angella turned to Castaspella. She also felt like she deserved to know the truth about how her brother died, even though that context really had nothing to do with it. At the end of the day, Micah made the decision.

⦁ When the comms are turned on, they’re constantly broadcasting to each other, but the microphones are set to be partially muted so they (hopefully) mainly just pick up the person who is wearing them talking. When the button is pressed, it turns up sensitivity and also bumps the broadcaster’s volume up so their orders can come through clearly. Catra could just barely be heard over the comms, but of course Adora caught something, and then she saw Entrapta when Bow fired his arrow, who she recognized in conjunction with Catra’s voice (her hair is kind of distinctive). She asked Bow “What’s going on? Is Catra here?” and that’s when he said not now. After the robots were dispatched, she immediately landed beside him and gave him her Firm Commander look and he explained the brief interaction. Once the scene was completely cleared and they had teleported back to the  sanctum, Adora agonized over Catra before ultimately deciding to text her. If Catra hadn’t responded, she would have had Glimmer bring her over to her apartment (which Glimmer would have done with minimal complaint, because there was a real chance Catra had gotten injured trying to leave the scene) but Catra texted back fairly quickly. She didn’t respond to Adora’s second message, which she would have liked just to know what was really going on, but she took what she could get.

⦁ Guesses for who Melog actually was were really interesting. I thought that either people were going to be onto me immediately due to the pronouns or be completely unsure due to assuming I was using they/them pronouns to obfuscate it. I saw a mix, though I don’t think anyone really guessed Melog by name in the first chapter. For the first couple chapters, guesses seemed evenly split between Melog and being unsure. Other guesses were DT, Shadow Weaver/shadow spies, Micah, and the First Ones worm (or maybe elemental?) from Glimmer’s coronation trial. Sorry to everyone’s Melog comments I ignored, but I wanted to maintain the mystery.

⦁ On a similar note of future guesses, no one commented a correct guess on Catra finding out the exact way that she did. There were some interesting theories that I enjoyed, and a few more along the lines of how she would potentially join the Alliance that were exciting to see so early on.

⦁ Catra started to say “Good boy” and then realized that was wrong for several reasons and probably demeaning, so she just pivoted.

⦁ Catra finding Melog under the dumpster was the second Scene™️ for this fic. It was one of the first things I outlined for it. Actually it might have been the first because I never wrote out an outline for the kiss scene, I just pictured it in my head a dozen times starting back when I was still writing AMLAIT. The Melog scene was, in the very initial idea, taking place after a chance attack Catra happened to get caught up in, but as soon as I started writing the fic and used that plot device in the opening I didn’t want to use it again, so the Entrapta thing formed because I already had the technopath subplot set up for later. Very little changed about the scene except how Catra got there and a little dialog tweaking, but originally Catra was supposed to hide Melog in a backpack she was carrying. I didn’t want to write one into the brief “chase scene”, so I gave her a gay flannel instead and had her wrap up them in that.

Chapter 10: Cause and Effect

⦁ Normally I uppercase krytian, but for this fic it was a species name like “human” so I (un)capitalized it as such.

⦁ Melog doesn’t know a lot about krytians due to a mix of their age when they were orphaned and the language gap. Melog’s parent never said to them “We are krytians, we were victims of a genocide by a human religious sect” they said “We are us, but others are dangerous. They hunted us, and now we must live in secret.” Krytians think of themselves as we and everyone else as them. They don’t have pronouns because they are I, you, or us. It’s combination of their culture and their communication method that makes it that way. Melog had no idea what the world would know them as until Catra told them. Shadow Weaver called them it a few times, but again, Melog didn’t know what that meant. It wasn’t until Catra found them and helped with their memories that they understood their jailer was named Shadow Weaver.

⦁ Okay this is something I had to cut from Chapter 10 because the whole thing it was included in dragged on, but I’m really SAD I had to cut it because it is, well, sad, so here it is, to hurt you with for posterity:               “Krytians forms are so reliant on magic, they don’t even leave bodies behind when they die. They dissipate back into the area when they die. When Melog lost their parent, their tombstone was a slowly fading well of power. Melog was the only one to ever know that they lived or died.”

⦁ For this fic, I considered having Shadow Weaver just be a supervillain and Catradora grew up in some Anonymously Rough group home together to set up the right experience for their current insecurities and mental issues — I even went back and forth on some edits early on to leave more possibilities open — but once I had the whole Melog plot getting Catra into the Alliance, it only made sense for her to have someone to fight with them, and setting up Shadow Weaver as a ghost from their past worked perfectly for that. Plus, I couldn’t resist the “I was raised by a supervillain” line.

⦁ A big part of Catra’s struggle with Adora in this fic, after she finds out the truth about what happened, is neglect. She knows that Adora didn’t drop her and she had reason to be busy, but it was still a pretty shitty way to treat someone even before you get to the ‘lying about it’ part. Catra (as she later demonstrates) is capable of understanding and even sharing Adora’s commitment, but it wouldn’t be fair for Adora to continue to put absolutely everything first aside from Catra, and the fear that she would do that again was a big thing keeping Catra away. Adora loves her and she makes that rather clear, assuaging one of Catra’s fears, but loving someone and actually treating them well — especially the way they consider treating them well — are two different things. I brush up on this a lot in my Catradora fics (BFM comes to mind) but I feel like it’s especially important for this one.

Chapter 11: Peace Talks

⦁ The Swift Wind thing came from a comment exchange on Chapter 4 where I said that I wasn’t planning on it, but the way I would work Swift Wind in would be for Adora to “deputize” a police horse in battle and for him to then work on freeing all the animals used by the police. It would kind of be a random thing to include in the fic, but I really liked the idea, so it was kind of in the back of my mind and I formed the idea of it being a story the Alliance tells rather than a scene on its own. I was really happy to be able to work it in. I think sometimes I go “that’s a distraction/irrelevant to the fic” but like… it’s fic. “Regular” media can have one off jokes and this is fic where I can do whatever I want so communist horse it is.

⦁ As is… just expected at this point for my fics, half of the contents of chapter 11 were supposed to also be covered in chapter 10, but that thing hit 8k before they even explained anything, so it had to be broken up.

⦁ Chapter 11 is basically the end of my main planning for the fic. After that point, it was all new stuff I came up with to serve the ending of the story that had been written so far. My big outline point for everything after chapter eleven was basically just “take down the horde. Be superheroes. Kiss & make up.”

Chapter 12: Movie Night?

⦁ Given that I just said 11 was the end of my planning, it feels weird to say “12 wasn’t supposed to exist,” but it really wasn’t. My planning by then was for the story to shift into Catra and Adora cautiously taking up texting while she set Entrapta on the Horde’s scent — basically, Chapter 13. The first scene of Chapter 12 started as an ending button scene for Chapter 11, but then I got the idea for the movie night (which actually originated back in Chapter 10, where the initial draft of the chapter included them explicitly planning the horse movie thing) and — more temptingly — the secret kisses during it, so then I had to write it. The scene with Glimmer was also unplanned (when I first tried to write it, the idea was that Catra actually stayed the night because it was “too late” to go all the way back home, but then the gap between the movie and the morning was too big for conversations to not have taken place), but showing Catra open up a little to more members of the Alliance was important for when she joined them later, so I wrote it.

⦁ Catra says the new place “wouldn’t work with Melog” for two reasons: 1) it was another studio, and she needed more options for privacy, especially with Adora around, and 2) it didn’t allow pets. Now, she had no intention of paying the pet fee or ever revealing Melog’s existence, but if a neighbor was to hear Melog meowing or pawing at the door, they would just assume Catra had a cat and had paid for it, instead of possibly snitching about her sneaking one in.

⦁ “Princess isn’t a thing for her” *proceeds to immediately outline why it’s a thing for her when Catra says that*

⦁ Obviously Catra was worried about She-ra finding out Entrapta was a technopath before because her entire apartment looks suspicious as hell, but knowing it’s Adora, she knows she’ll listen to her if she says Entrapta isn’t with the Horde. Otherwise, there’s a very real chance of somebody thinking she’s the one building their bots.

⦁ If you’re capable of not crying during the train scene in Spirit then you’re heartless.

Chapter 13:

⦁ The line “[Trust] can be lost in [a year], too” is in reference to Catra and Adora, not the Alliance.

Chapter 14:

⦁ Glimmer stalled telling her mom because she wanted school to be busy so Angella couldn’t say or do much because it would distract me from finals, mom.

⦁ Shadow Weaver ran the home for every reason Catra listed and more. Maintaining a secret identity (as long as absences didn’t become conspicuous) helped her fly under the radar. It also made her not entirely reliant on the Horde (she didn’t trust Hordak, though if anything he shouldn’t have trusted her). When the kids hit their late teen years and were about to age out into the world, she knew exactly who, when, and where to target them (as Shadow Weaver, or via proxy with another member of the Horde) for a recruitment pitch. She was especially looking for magic children who might have a future in the Horde — or who might be capable of becoming princesses and inheriting/fixing her runestone, or using another one if they ever managed to track down She-ra and Spirit Ember (both runestones clearly lost, but Shadow Weaver didn’t know if that was permanent or a situation like how she acquired the Black Garnet and thus she hoped to find more). She saw that opportunity in Adora, which is a reason why she targeted her and Catra in particular. Finally, Catra is kind of right that she did it for her own “enjoyment”, but it was in a very different way — at least to her. Shadow Weaver legitimately saw herself as helping the kids who crossed her doorstep and thought the world needed her and people like her to prepare these poor, unloved, unruly children for the future. She thought she was a hero and any sliver of remorse she had for the Horde’s more extreme actions she could dismiss with “well look what good I’m doing with this home, it balances out.”

⦁ “It’s a nice dream” Yeah Horde Prime’s line like that still fucks me up and I had to slip it in.

⦁ There’s a dampening spell centered on the door so other people in the archive don’t hear it opening and closing (all the secret tomfoolery would be pretty ruined if people heard a bookshelf being dragged around in the next room all the time) but it also lets me surprise Catra, which is a rare opportunity.

⦁ The alarm at the computer goes off at the same time as a mid-level priority message to all their phones so someone will check the news/hub to see if it’s something they need to deal with, but since they were in the room with the alarm, no one heard/cared about their phones buzzing.

⦁ Melog’s ability to warp the world around them as they travel the paths is inspired by Little Nightmares 2 and that’s all I’ll say on that because it’s not a game that should be spoiled. I thought it fit well with their illusion magic, though. I think the official power is called something like object distance manipulation but relativity manipulation sounded like a better fit to me.

⦁ I was kinda surprised people asked about Netossa and Spinnerella’s codenames (which is a fair question) but no one asked for Bow since they’re all in the same spot as not having a runestone in canon. For Bow, I came up with the Cupid thing Catra mentions early on in the fic as a joke, and while I do think it’s a plausible thing for Bow to consider given his very “I love love” attitude, I don’t think he would actually pick it and it  felt a little diminutive. Apollo was a late contender thank to the historical connection with his dads and his association with archery, but I thought about other bow/arrow symbolism and remembered one of the Zodiac had a bow and arrow and thus went with Sagittarius once I realized it was Glimmer’s zodiac. This meant I had to spell Sagittarius. So I fucked up there. For Spinnerella, I never ended up saying it in the fic so I kind of got away lucky, but her runestone is an amethyst. I had been calling her just “Cyclone” in my head, which of course didn’t match with a runestone so I had to add some kind of gem/mineral thing in there, but  there’s a big range from the simple “Moonstone” to the slightly more descriptive “Sea Pearl” to “Fractal Flake” which is… nothing. I tried for a while to make some kind of alliteration with “Cyclone,” but there aren’t a lot of gems that fit that, so in the end I went with just Amethyst despite being a little unimaginative because I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t cumbersome to shout in battle. I really tried to work some kind of “Air Amethyst” type alliteration in there but it just didn’t happen. For Netossa, I thought about making her sapphire early on because blue, but that’s a Steven Universe character so I wanted to either find something else or add a modifier onto it. Coming up with modifiers related to nets is… hard. Star Sapphire and Cerulean Sapphire (bit of an oxymoron, but it felt like it fit with the naming conventions lol) were in contention. It was just hard to relate anything to nets of all things so I followed the simple route a la Moonstone and just went with Star Sapphire (the star pattern of which could represent the intersections of the ropes in her nets? Maybe? Listen that’s the best I’ve got). For Catra things were… more complex. Catra very well could have picked anything she wanted, similar to Bow, which made it a lot harder. I considered Wildcat immediately (especially with Scorpia suggesting it later and then Catra ends up stuck with it after the others pick up on it) but I didn’t want a name that reveals she’s a magicat, so I tested out a lot of things until I just settled on Ghost for the invisibility. Tiger’s Eye was my other immediate instinct for the runestone theme, because, well, obviously, but while that felt exactly like what SPOP would call the magicat runestone, I wasn’t naming “Catra’s runestone,” I was coming up with a superhero name for Catra while runestones also exist. Her name only had to match as much as she wanted it too, and it didn’t feel like she would want that. As soon as I decided on Ghost I looked up to see if there were any “Ghost something” crystals, which is when I found Phantom quartz and added it into the conversation. When I was looking at gems/minerals/elements for inspo, I saw Mercury and I thought that fit really well with Melog’s shifting powers, and as something related both to geology (okay, listen, it’s an element and that’s close enough) and astrology. Other contenders were things like Silver, Bismuth, and a red theme for/with Catra (I literally looked up a list of red shade names. Naming things is hard). Then I had to come up with joke names that were still something the character might come up with (for themselves and others), so I just made things worse for myself. I got to acknowledge that initial Tiger’s Eye instinct though, so that was good to fit in.

Chapter 15:

⦁ Sideloading an app is basically downloading it on your phone without using the system’s app store.

⦁ After Perfuma suggested Phantom, I thought “you know what, that sounds cool” so I went back and forth on using that instead, but there’s no way Catra would pick it knowing the context, so I played with it a bit more in the scene where they decide her official codename — as well as giving her perspective on that bit, and introducing the beginning of Netossa kind of being Catra’s superhero mentor, which is a relationship that develops after the fic ends — but ultimately let Catra decide. It also let me introduce how the system was coded around their aliases, keeping Entrapta from instantly realizing their identities when she hacked them, though it’s obvious once you start sifting through the general channel and see them talking.

⦁ Bow lives with his dads still since they’re close enough to campus for it and that way he doesn’t really need a job on top of school and (secret) heroing. That means he spends a lot of time in Glimmer’s dorm, though, because it’s the only private place he has to go on campus. He can go to George’s office, too, but students come and go from that so it’s not really any better than a student lounge.

⦁ Adora’s voice is strained after saying she loves Catra because she’s convincing herself that Catra just isn’t ready to say it back yet. She’s in total denial that hearing it is important to her.

⦁ Kadroh is, of course, Wrong Hordak, and the guy who runs the front counter.

⦁ Entrapta was basically shouting for the entire conversation with Scorpia, but since Scorpia also tends to talk loudly, she didn’t really notice it.

⦁ The scene with Scorpia is actually the first I conceived for the fic from a different perspective, which would eventually influence my decision to switch perspective around however I saw fit.

Chapter 16:

⦁ Adora mentions her academics a lot in this fic because I was playing with the idea of her dropping out and just becoming a vet tech to reduce her stress and wanted to leave that option open, but she was so close it didn’t end up feeling right, especially after the Horde became less of a threat with their scrambling following the arrest.

⦁ Someone on crew (pretty sure it was ND) joked that Catra’s “real name” was Elizabeth, so I pulled that as the bullshit name Scorpia said. I went back and forth on her actually saying Catra’s name in hopes of being able to tell if the Horde recognized it (and thus had at least seen her) but that would have been a whole thing to Shadow Weaver as soon as she heard it and there was too much going on in the scene already to throw that in. Plus, it risked endangering Catra’s secret identity even more than Scorpia’s mere presence already did.

⦁ Okay, so obviously my instinct when giving Scorpia an alias was to use… her fucking alias, lmao, but Linda is her mom and D’Ream is her last name already, so Lynda wasn’t going to work. Lynda D’Ream was originally a reference to Scorpia’s voice actress in the 80s (Linda Gary), so I used her SPOP voice actress’s name, Lauren Ash, and threw a fucking y in there because that’s how they did it lmao

⦁ Every runestone calls out a little differently to its holder (in the circumstance where it’s not immediately passed to them). Adora saw lights in the edge of her vision, just ephemeral enough to now be there, that led her towards the stone and then it pulled her in with a mental call. Scorpia couldn’t feel the mental call with the stone cracked, but it sparked to beckon her.

⦁ Scorpia’s mask looking kind of like Shadow Weaver’s was temporary. I don’t know if I ever squeezed the joke in because I’ve been writing this fic for like two months and have forgotten, but the first time Adora transformed, it was into her season one outfit. Both she and the runestone kind of freaked out and it was only on subsequent transformations, when she knew what was happening and could exercise some control over it, that the season five/current She-ra costume appeared. Scorpia is in a similar situation where her mask will eventually take a vaguely scorpion-like theme, with the hooks down her cheeks mimicking stingers and similar ones hooking up her forehead and back over her ears.

⦁ Scorpia didn’t notice any of Catra’s attempts to touch her. Catra kept them light because she was worried about startling Scorpia and giving away their best shot at getting out of this, but that just made them easier for Scorpia to miss them.

⦁ Melog was reliving some trauma and hiding out under the table made them feel better, so when Catra was okay they were busy taking care of themselves by hiding to recuperate.

Chapter 17:

⦁ Shadow Weaver genuinely isn’t entirely certain what happened that day. She remembers Lauryn showing up, but details are fuzzy. When Black Garnet debuts, she remembers that Lauryn was the new Black Garnet since it was Kind Of A Big Deal to her, but she doesn’t remember many details about what she looks like that aren’t already public, and she doesn’t remember her transforming because it all happened so fast and then she was electrocuted and unconscious. That electrocution caused her some issues beyond her memories of that day, and between that and having no magic herself, she isn’t much of a threat when it comes to breaking out of jail or something. With the overwhelming evidence of her involvement in the Horde and no evidence she was blackmailed as she claimed, she goes away for a long time. Everybody arrested turns on Hordak trying to get a plea deal, and between the testimony and physical evidence he was the only one who could have built the robots, he gets convicted of a lot of things, especially as an accessory because that’s easier to prove.

⦁ The rooftop scene was actually initially planned to go earlier in the fic, before the big confrontation, but even though I had been planting the seeds for it, I wanted a bit more hinting and I felt like Catra running off on her own would make Adora worry even more about it, so I pushed it back.

⦁ I ended up using gender neutral pronouns for Horde members a couple times because they often wear helmets or masks that make it hard, but sometimes I chose to use gendered pronouns because I tend to default to they-them pronouns and a nebulous appearance for rando NPCs and I didn’t want it to seem like I was doing that rather than it being a part of the plot that they were disguised and ambiguous. And of course physical appearance isn’t always and indicator of pronouns etc (it certainly isn’t for me lol) but it is usually the assumed default without indicators otherwise. Also sometimes it was just easier to have a random NPC gendered, which is why I had rando Horde members be male a couple times because it just made it easier to distinguish who was who during the fight scenes LOL.

⦁ The “I’ll stroke your ego if it shuts you up” “Wow that didn’t take much convincing” exchange was in my notes before I even started writing the fic. I didn’t have a place for it planned and it only ended up coming up here at the end, but I’m glad I got to use it finally.

Misc Fic Thoughts:

⦁ I’d written a little here and there, but I really got my fanfiction start (both reading and writing) in the comics fandom. I never had a superhero AU “planned” but it always felt like an inevitable thing I would do one day when an idea occurred to me. Superheros befriending(/rescuing/romancing) people they know in their real lives but who don’t know about their secret identity is something I’m a SUCKER for, so when that idea occurred to me in early March it was like of course. I absolutely have to do this right away. I had another thing I was excited for but this jumped the line as soon as AMLAIT was done. I was actually writing this simultaneously with editing that ending.

⦁ I’ve referenced the playlist a couple times and it’s linked below, but I wanna actually talk about it for a second. If you weren’t around for it, 8tracks was a website that was basically the Tumblr version of spotify playlists. It wasn’t affiliated with Tumblr or anything, there were just a lot of Tumblr people populating it and it had a tagging system, so you could hunt down all the playlists associated with your fandom. There were some licensing/copyright issues, and they had a profitability problem anyway, I think, so after a few years it closed down and no website has ever been able to capture the kind of playlists 8tracks hosted and the quality there. With it gone, I can’t go back and find the playlist that this AU is named after. However, it was a Young Avengers playlist (it was called something like “superzeroes — a young avengers fanmix”) that I still vividly remember the cover art for. I believe it was around 11 songs long (a pretty normal length for an 8tracks playlist), and the only two songs I’m pretty sure were on it were Superlove by Charlie XCX and Kick Ass by Mika. I think there might have been a song by FUN on the playlist too? But that — like both of the other songs, really — could have come from one of my other comics-related playlists too. I did my DAMNEDEST to find a tumblr post linking to this playlist again (and in doing so, dug up some nostalgia holy shit) but in the end turned up nothing. Shockingly for how long I’ve gone on about it, I wasn’t particularly attached to this playlist. I mean, I listened to it, but it just came up as a memory when I first got the idea to do a superhero AU, so when I created a file for it I named it “Superzero AU” just intending for it to be a play on superhero, and then that Became the AU’s name in my head and I couldn’t change it after this. I need to stop doing that to myself. The name does, however, have meaning, which is kind of two-fold. First, superzero is an insult aimed at Adora. I considered having Catra say it to her face when they were fighting, showing that she can try to be a superhero to everyone else but she is still a failure, because she failed Catra (they didn’t end up fighting a lot so that didn’t make it into the fic, but the idea of superzero being a term Catra snidely thinks about Adora when they were fighting is still there). Second, Catra is the superzero, specifically a superhero with zero powers. She’s using Melog’s, yes, but she has none of her own and yet she eventually joins the Alliance in throwing herself into danger.

⦁ POV for this fic is interesting because when I was originally coming up with the concept, most of the scenes where from Catra’s perspective, but I knew I wanted the kiss scene specifically to be from Adora’s perspective. I also knew, by the time I started writing it in earnest, that this was going to a long fic so sticking to one POV was going to be impractical. I then thought about switching POV by chapter and just having the Catra chapters be longer, but there were too many scenes I wanted both their takes on. I then considered something weird which was alternating Catra POV chapters with my usual back-and-forth POV chapters, but by then I knew I wanted a scene from Melog’s perspective and maybe even one from Scorpia’s, so I decided f**k it, free POV whenever and wherever I want. This is the first time I’ve really used a POV like this in a long fic, though I did it here and there in one-shots like the soulmarks AU and ‘dawn after the long dark’ in OotW.

⦁ I had fun with this fic, but it was also Struggle Bus to write (for various reasons, from plot-related, to meta, to my own indecision, to life). All my fics (at least long ones, and it can still happen in one-shots) include rewrites somewhere, but I feel like it’s something invisible to both readers and other writers. You only see the final result, not the six tries + editing it took to get there, but this one took a lot of rewriting. I think the final result is fun though so I’m really happy with it.

Original Outline:

The original idea for this fic was very brief. She-ra would have already saved Catra in the past and they were in the weird friendship phase, there was some will-they-won’t-they and attempted friendship tension, then the kiss and the reveal, then the booty call which would start turning Catra around and they would repair their relationship from there.

Then I thought “hey this is a magical realism au, I could have Melog in here” and immediately had the idea for the scene where Catra found Melog. Everything spiraled from there. Below is the entire outline for the fic by the time I finished drafting the first chapter (during which I had ideas about Shadow Weaver’s place in this AU and such).

- meet - friendship (adora learns theres a chance of rebuilding next semester)               - return (health insurance, kiss it better)               - “just checking in again” (law student)               - rooftop - kiss/fall out - booty call - in limbo, find melog - bring melog to BMU - priorities conversation - some fight with the horde, taking down shadow weaver

In the end, the fic followed the outline, though not always the way I thought, mostly at the end where it was more ambiguous. I don't have much to say about it (beyond what I said in earlier notes) since it mostly turned out how I planned, but I thought sharing what one of my overarching outlines looks like might be fun.

Meta:

Superzero playlist

Upcoming:

Okay so I have like, four fics I’m weighing at the moment and I’m not sure with one is going to win, so it’s hard to say which will be upcoming. If I had to guess, though? City of Angels.

[radiant-reid]

2 fics in 2 days? you’re spoiling us cate !!! what’s next?! 😊😊

omg i know i haven't written that much in so long. honestly i was looking at my 117 drafts and i was like 'girl, you gotta finish some of these' so i did

as for what is next, here are my most current wips, some of these are 1% started but i feel like i'm on the right creative wavelength to write them and if y'all have an opinion on what i should finish first, i'd love to hear it

angst about the aftermath of the Jeid confession

smut where they finally have sex after spencer's knee injury

my personal fav 🌟 an angst fic based on the vibe/plot of a recently released song and i don't want to give too much away but it's very new england

fluff (most likely) fic based on the song Mastermind, but not in a stalker type of way

heavy, heavy angst fic about a parallel between Spencer kissing Lila in s1 and Cat in s15

angst fic where reader gets amnesia (i know some people hate this trope but i freaking love it) and she doesn't remember spencer is her husband who she's close to divorcing

smuttttt but it's a foursome, sort based on that scene at the start of ahs: hotel before anyone gets murdered

college!spencer who's really in love with the most popular girl who actually likes him back

one night stand... but she gets pregnant trope (lots of people hate this, too, but i do not) and of course they end up in love

the second Cat Adams situation (where she says she's having his baby) but Spencer has a wife... who is pregnant

part 2 to the spencer x reader x hotch threesome but it's a little more intense

reader visiting spencer in jail (i'm not really sure where this will go

just some more smut but it's giggly because they're drunk

reader meeting each member of the team

just this whole bunch of dad!spence fluff where it's one fic comprised of little blurbs about him being a cute dad

a wedding fic !! but it's enemies to lovers... and they're the maid of honor and best man

this kinda random angsty fic where spencer feels himself becoming his dad to his own kids

reader fake-dating derek 😈 to make spencer jealous

angst sort of based on the Maeve situation but the stalker takes reader who spencer is actually in love with

so friends with benefits, but reader moves away just when spencer's ready to tell her he loves her

strip poker smut

reunion trope sort of, where spencer sees reader again and they were romantically involved in the summer before she went to college

(this is going back all the way till feb) a fic about the typical chaos of the Reid house with their kids and they're sort of trying to get it on but they have like 95 children so it's difficult

also this list is not even going through my asks ahaha

my series ideas

forbidden love, i guess, but basically reader is Cat Adams' lawyer...

actually finishing love/hate island (i need someone to hold a gun to my head until i do)

a series following on from this and this part 2

Aaron Hotchner wips

fic about him talking about his childhood issues

frat boy!aaron but it's fake dating trope

another frat boy!aaron fic but reader sort of hates him

just this lil winter fluff fic

smut where reader is jack's friend from college (disclaimer, she's 21 and didn't know aaron as a minor)

fluff fic where reader's goddaughter and Jack are on the same soccer team

this series where he's actually wealthy wealthy

and i do have another 5 wips but all I've written is the first paragraph/line and i have no idea what the plot was going to be !!! how annoying is that

[jedi-enthusiast]

For the fanfic ask game: 💖 👀 🥺 🤲 🥰 (sorry I know that's a lot LOL feel free to pick and choose!)

The ask game <3

Oh no don’t apologize! I love people asking a bunch of questions because I love rambling about my fics!

💖- What made you start writing?

I have two answers for this question, since I actually stopped writing a while ago and then got back into it.

I first started writing in general because I was primarily a Wattpad user (I had no idea Ao3 existed, but give me a break I was like 13) and I was reading fan fiction for a manga/anime series called Kuroshitsuji or Black Butler and I just wanted a heroine reader like me.

Most of the "readers" or "ocs" in those fics didn't really stand up for themselves and often let the guy characters walk all over them--or they would be referred to as "badass" but were never really given a chance to be badass. And, at the time, they were also mostly blonde haired/blue eyed.

So I started writing because I wanted a heroine reader that stood up for herself and didn't take anyone's shit and was actually badass on paper--and who had brown hair and eyes like me. I actually still have the full outline of the fic I was working on, and a draft of the prologue, and here are two commissions I bought for my oc:

I did eventually stop writing for a while, though, because I was just tired of writing and rewriting and rewriting (the outline and draft I have currently is my 3rd rewrite of the entire thing, 4th if you count the other completely different version of it--I get very nitpicky with my fics sometimes).

What got me back into writing was actually you. I started reading "Shoulder the Sky" and I saw how much work you had put in and how passionate you were about your fic and I just...got inspired. I already had an outline for The Great War sitting in my Google Docs (from back when I first got into Star Wars) and I basically decided "fuck it, if they can do then so can I, I'm gonna start writing again" and I did, and now I have two fics ongoing and several in the works that I can't wait to get to.

👀- Tell me about an up and coming WIP!

Ok, one of my WIPs that I'm working on (that I hope to start writing soon, once I finish the outline) is a Modern!AU called "Deeper Roots."

Basically Cody and Obi-Wan are high school sweethearts who have had a long-distance relationship for over a decade now, since Obi-Wan had to move away from their town when he got custody of his siblings (Anakin, Ahsoka, and Reva) from their father (Qui-Gon) due to family issues.

Well, Obi-Wan and Cody decide that he should move back to town since Anakin will be starting college soon (he's 21, but took a gap year and then waited since he had an accident that took his arm) and the college of his choice is nearby + Ahsoka wants to go to that same college + they all miss Cody a lot and want to see him more.

Only one problem. Cody hasn't come out to his family and they have no idea he's dating someone, let alone that he has a boyfriend and that he's--for all intents and purposes--technically a father of three. They all try to keep things a secret from his family still, but things obviously get a whole lot more complicated once the two sides of Cody's life start to intermingle.

(also, I think Reva should be incorporated into their family in Modern!AU fics more often, I think she'd make a great youngest child)

🥺- Is there a certain moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Ok, slight spoilers for BCC, but one interaction that always makes me emotional when I start to think about it is this one line that I have planned for the end of BCC.

Basically Obi-Wan and Cody are hiding away in a storage room after a hard battle and Obi-Wan says something about "not wanting to be High General Kenobi."

So Cody says that they don't have to be Commander and General. That, when it's just them, "they can just be Obi-Wan and Cody."

👐- Would you please share a snippet of a WIP?

Nothing else is really written yet, so here's a snippet of the next chapter of Bloodshed, Crimson Clover:

The Force sparked restlessly under Obi-Wan’s skin as he stared at the empty holomap in front of him, eyes searching it for the readouts of a battle that hadn’t happened yet—or, rather, was happening, but just out of reach. He could look away. Attempt to meditate, or finish last mission’s report, or do something more productive with his time, but the near-blinding blue light of the blank screen had already seared itself into his mind and he knew that, even if he walked away, it would follow him. 

So he stayed. 

Staring. 

He hesitantly reached out along his and Anakin’s Force Bond, gently pushing forward the memory of Crys announcing they were only fifteen minutes out and an impression of– you? Them? Safe? 

Part of him didn’t expect Anakin to respond, and another part of him dreaded that very fact, but—as always—Anakin was full of surprises. He was quickly hit with a twin pair of waves, harsh impressions of impatience and frustration that burned the back of his throat, and their corresponding memories—one of the 501st’s Star Cruisers disappearing in a flash of fire and smoke, a supply ship they were escorting quickly succumbing to the same fate, Anakin’s admiral informing him that they couldn’t hold out much longer. 

The taste of ash felt thick and heavy on his tongue, and it took him a moment to recover from the sheer intensity of it all—although he was careful to keep his expression devoid of any emotion. Anakin was strong in the Force, but that meant he often forgot to take into consideration how his power might affect those around him. Obi-Wan was used to it, however, so he was able to disperse the effects quickly enough, and the emotions that followed were all his own. 

🥰- How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!

*cough* ahem.

I love getting questions about my fic and I love getting comments and people talking about it--all of it just makes me so happy! I love my fic and I love to see people loving it too!

[callivich]

Does anyone want to adopt a fic? I’ve got something in my drafts that I’ve been working on for over a year and while I really love the idea, I just cannot get it to work. It’s not really finished enough to orphan on ao3 but it’s also not vague enough to be just a prompt.

Anyway, here’s some long rambly - kinda meta - ideas/thoughts:

The original idea was the question ‘what if they had the monogamy conversation at a different time?’ And I thought it would be interesting if they were invited to hang out (and more….) with a couple in the building who were in an open relationship.

I feel like Ian would shut it down pretty quickly but he would then overthink and just have to bring it up to Mickey because even though he would be fairly confident that they are already monogamous and that’s what Mickey wants, he gets a bit anxious and just has to have the conversation for his own piece of mind.

Ian worries Mickey hasn’t had the chance to date around and experiment with others in a positive way, kind of echoing his previous s10 comments about being in love. While he doesn’t like the idea of Mickey with another man, he feels they should have the conversation. Mickey has no interest in an open marriage, he clearly states he wants to be monogamous.

Somehow, this spiralled a bit and I ended up writing a little exploration of sexuality. And the story becomes ‘is Mickey demisexual?’ Mickey admits he’s never really enjoyed sex with anyone other than Ian. That it’s fine/it scratches an itch etc but it doesn’t do it for him in the same way it does with Ian. Mickey thinks this is just something that is weird but Ian suggests there might actually be a label for it.

I didn’t write this bit but I imagine them googling and finding a label - possibly demisexuality. It takes them a minute to get their heads around it and they read the definitions of it.

Ian is curious if Mickey therefore “liked” him since he says that he enjoyed the first time they had sex. Mickey isn’t sure - but guesses he was at least interested in some way in Ian because he’d been obsessing over finding him because of Mandy and then had enjoyed stealing from the Kash and Grab because it annoyed Ian. He guesses he didn’t realise what these feelings were at the time.

I also included a bit about Mickey only bottoming for Ian - first because he couldn’t trust anyone in the neighbourhood/juvie/prison and it was better to make deals and top so that nothing got back to his dad, and then it still wasn’t safe in Mexico/there wasn’t much opportunity. And he would have been on his guard living in an unfamiliar place by himself. I’ve always thought that he probably only bottomed for Ian and that the biggest indicator of this was Byron. Mickey was out and proud and confident at that point but he still did not bottom. If he wanted to, he could have in a safe environment with someone who was not a threat. Sure, maybe Byron was just not at all interested in topping but I think it’s more than likely Mickey just didn’t want to do that with anyone other than Ian. Which brings me back around to the demisexuality idea and that he’s really not that interested in sex outside of Ian.

I was going to add in something about Mickey feeling he could do it with Ian the first time because he didn’t think Ian would be stupid enough to out Mickey as he would also out himself to the rest of the Milkovich family. Or that he just thought Ian was in the closet and actually trying to have a relationship with Mandy and therefore would not say anything.

Ultimately it’s kinda a story about monogamy but also kinda a story about sexuality and past experiences? I dunno if these thoughts make sense for their characters but hopefully people kinda get what I was thinking?

But like I said, I just cannot make it work, so if anyone is interested in taking bits and pieces of this or reworking/remixing it, get in touch and I can send what I’ve written via email. Or if you just wanna chat about this - I’d love to discuss any topics along these lines, so please do send an ask! 💖