#and i find the whole relationship and fandom and fic writing rather delicious

[doonarose]

Precarious, But Worth It

Rating: Explicit, nsfw, no minors

Summary: Aziraphale returns to the bookshop, more cynical and in need of Crowley’s help after months of frustration and failure in heaven. They have the fight they need to have, shouting a lot of the stuff that they probably should have said quite pleasantly to each other several centuries ago. Crowley pries a love confession out of Aziraphale and then one thing leads to another and that thing is exactly what you think it is: finally getting off together against the desk.

(Un)rationale: I tried to write a quick little fight and fuck fic based on all the wonderful headcanons floating around about Aziraphale and Crowley really just needing to scream at each other for a bit and then make out like teenagers.

It grew into an 8000 word fight and fuck epic that still achieves exactly what I set out to do, it just took over my life for 48 hours. Which is fine, I haven't committed smut in almost a decade.

You can read and see the warnings at AO3 of just read the fic under the cut.

Aziraphale returns to the bookshop at three in the morning on an uncommonly warm summer night. He tries to barge straight in and upon finding the door incomprehensibly locked, expends more energy that appropriate yanking on the doorknobs until the planks of wood are shaking in their frames. Aziraphale assumes he can swan right back in, but he can’t. The door doesn’t even unlock in response to a particularly demanding miracle because Crowley is on the other side, sprawled in his armchair, urging the doors with every ounce of available willpower to remain impervious.

Crowley flicks his wrist and an old, dusty pair of sunglasses wriggles out from under some papers on the desk and fly into his hand. He slides them on with a sigh that’s just a little bit shaky.

Finally, Aziraphale relents, and it goes quiet for a moment. Then he starts pounding, fast, heavy, hard-fisted knocks against the wood. “Crowley, I know you’re in there! Let me in! This is my bookshop!”

Anger boils in Crowley’s blood, anger and shock, that Aziraphale could even think for a moment that he would just come back and walk in and start up whatever again. Because that’s why he’s here, he needs help, or he got bored, or he decided it was time to come back. Crowley allows the front door to swing open but maintains the invisible barrier that protects the entire space from anything outside that he doesn’t want coming in. He doesn’t bother getting up and is extremely careful not to even look in Aziraphale’s direction.

“Not your bookshop, not anymore,” Crowley says, voice snaking from low in his chest, quiet and oh so dangerous.

Aziraphale seethes, “Let me in.”

“Absolutely not.” Crowley tips his head back and sinks further into the armchair.

“How are you even keeping me out?”

Crowley stares at the ceiling to stop from looking at him, he wonders exactly what Aziraphale is looking at, he wonders how he can look and not implode. “Not your bookshop anymore, not a heavenly embassy, it’s mine,” is the only explanation he offers.

“Well, you still can’t keep me out.” And Aziraphale moves to step over the threshold in a flourish of his new angelic light grey overcoat which sparkles with its silver embellishment. Now Crowley watches, as fascinated and cruel as a schoolboy with a beetle under a magnifying glass, as Aziraphale’s body shifts into the door frame only to be bolted back with a flash of white lightning that burns hellish hot through him, making him yelp.

Crowley doesn’t move, remains expressionless behind the glasses, holding still even as Aziraphale cries out and recoils. But now he’s looking at him. Aziraphale’s not wearing anything Crowley’s ever seen him in: beneath the long grey overcoat is a crisp white shirt and a necktie and slacks of muted slate grey. Even his white hair has been brushed flat into carefully controlled waves. It’s sterile and exactly what Crowley imagined. Even the embroidered pattern on the overcoat looks meaningless.  

Eyeing the threshold again, Aziraphale whines, “Crowley, you have to let me in.”

Crowley chuckles darkly. “Done that one too many times, I reckon. Fool me once and all that.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Second coming, I’ve heard.” He’s had enough, Aziraphale is back because he needs help, which doesn’t matter because there was never any reason that would have make him coming back now okay. Not after months of being gone, not after he left in the first place. Crowley stretches like a cat waking up, teases the idea of getting up and then settles back into place. He watches as Aziraphale notices for the first time the state of the bookshop, the dust and the scattered books and the dozens of lush green plants sitting atop them.

“That’s heaven’s plan, isn’t it?” Crowley says. “God’s judgement for all, erased to non-existent oblivion if you’ve ever stolen some bread, or used Her name in vain or any sin, really.” He grips the arms of the chair to stop from propelling himself up and over to Aziraphale, form saying it an inch from his face so he might actually listen. Too late for listening. “Any moment of pride or laziness or gluttony and you’re done for. Seems fair,” he says with a sardonic hiss. “Seems right.”

“Crowley, invite me in, I need to talk to you.” Aziraphale’s pleading but Crowley isn’t falling for it, acutely aware it’s a ploy, a manipulation, just the trickster angel employing the needy tone of voice he’s used for millennia to get Crowley to do his bidding.

“Absolutely not. How dare you even deign to return.”

“If you weren’t waiting for me to come back, then what are you still doing here?”

That makes Crowley pause because he’s worked very hard not to think about that, not to ponder how many centuries he will mope around the bookshop before he flings himself into some far-off corner of space – definitely not Alpha Centauri. He lies: “I wanted to be here when you realized just how catastrophically you fucked everything up,” he bites every word out, letting them trip bitterly off his tongue.

Aziraphale doesn’t look even the slightest bit bothered and Crowley hates him for that. No shame or embarrassment or regret, chin in the air, defiant, which just makes Crowley’s blood boil in his veins.

“You’ve being juvenile about things.” How dare he use that singsong, playful tone with him now. After everything.

He can’t sit still anymore, propels himself up and stalks the half a dozen steps to the door to say it: “Oh, fuck you. You destroyed everything; I’m allowed to be furious about it.”

Aziraphale looks around pointedly, leaning in as close to the bookshop as he dares. “Everything looks quite fine here, although you could have taken a moment out of your wallowing to dust.” It’s cutting, how easily Aziraphale swipes at him. 

Low and warning, Crowley just says it again because it’s easiest now to just stay angry. “Fuck. You.”

Except for just a moment, Aziraphale’s countenance fails, his hands fidget in front of him and Crowley sees past the shimmery white-grey outfit, the flattened white hair, and he clocks the fear and uncertainty in Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley thinks he looks astoundingly anguished with his pursed lips and his deadened, defensive eyes, looks like he’s on the brink of collapse, and then that’s gone.

“If you don’t let me in both of our names are going to be scratched from the Book of Life, it could happen any moment now.”

That is a serious threat, but Crowley is still so angry. “Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“Liar.”

They stand in stalemate, Aziraphale now leaning against the doorframe, waiting, until Crowley asks, “Why would they want to scratch you, Archangel Supreme, Effervescent Warrior-Chief of the Angels, from the Book of Life?” But he is a liar, he does give a flying fuck, perhaps not about himself, but even in his darkest, most wretched hour, he never wished Aziraphale never existed. Just the thought twists tight around his heart and chokes the breath out of him. Never seeing Aziraphale again was awful, but he had made his peace with it. Never having known him at all was unfathomable. Crowley knows immediately that he’s going to give in and help, he doesn’t have a choice.

He clicks his fingers returning the bookshop threshold to normalcy and turns to walk back into the room, trying to get his heart and his skin and his face back under control and hoping Aziraphale doesn’t notice. “Tell me what you’ve done?”

***

The anger simmers just below the surface as Aziraphale explains the second coming and heaven and why he’s back. Crowley sits with his arm across the back of the sofa, skin turned overly warm even though he’s in his thinnest jeans and just a woollen turtleneck. Aziraphale sits primly, still dwarfed by the grey overcoat that he chooses to keep on, in the armchair pulled back from what used to be his desk.

Crowley’s still angry at him for leaving and now also for coming back, he’s livid that he’s being drawn back into something worse than life and death, but that’s nothing compared to how furious he is to have to care about Aziraphale again. He keeps circling back to the idea of him never having existed, that Crowley would never have known him, wouldn’t even know to miss him.

Perhaps, most of all, he’s angry that it’s becoming abundantly clear, that Aziraphale gets it now. He’s returned from heaven cynical and candid, no longer speaking about that place, or the people in it, with any sort of adoration or wonderment, rather like it’s all gone sour on the back of his tongue. He only shows any sort of respect for God Herself, and even that is fleeting and wholly immaterial to their predicament.

At the end of all the exposition, all Crowley can offer is a drawn out, “Wellll…” and then “We’re fucked, basically.”

Aziraphale huffs and silence falls between them. Crowley should just kick him out; the situation is dire, but he has as much chance of fixing it on his own as he does with Aziraphale there. The minutes tick over, the grandfather clock’s second hand audible in the stillness of the room.

Aziraphale’s voice cuts through, quiet and careful, “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt sooner?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you wait until I had to leave to say what you said?”

Crowley fights the urge to throw a punch, or at the very least the hardest backhanded slap he can muster. He grips the back of the sofa with one hand and his own thigh with the other and stares Aziraphale down from behind the glasses. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

“Was it because you were scared?”

Crowley stares at him harder, eyes locked, Aziraphale unflinching even though he must be able to feel the crackle in the air, the threat of bodily harm if he continues.

“Was it because you knew that if we started something it would get back to our respective head offices and there would be consequences – ”

Crowley cuts him off with a sneer. “They would have discorporated both of us in an instant, and then hell knows what the punishments would have been. Eternal torture for me, I reckon. And perhaps something worse waiting for you in heaven.”

Aziraphale just nods and folds his hands in his lap. “And then after Adam, when we finally had our own side and no head offices, what about then?” He gives Crowley the chance to answer but he doesn’t. Then, “Were you still too scared?”

It’s like Aziraphale’s needling at him on purpose and if Crowley’s entire being wasn’t burning up he might stop to wonder why. He holds his voice remarkably level: “Fuck you Aziraphale, and I really, genuinely mean that. Was the point of this whole night to come back here and mess with me? World’s ending, book of life, blah blah blah, last chance to go and mock the snake? Has heaven turned you that cruel, that quickly?”

Aziraphale looks taken aback, as though that wasn’t what he was going for at all, but that’s certainly where he hit. “I’m simply asking why you chose to do what you did when I’d already told you I had to go to heaven – ”

“Because when else was I going to get the chance to say it? I wanted to speak first – not that it would have made a difference – because you’d already made up your stupid little mind, chosen heaven, and you were leaving.” Crowley clamps his mouth shut, presses his lips together and casts his eyes up; Aziraphale does not get to see him hurting.  

“And I was wrong,” Aziraphale says softly. “And I – I apologise, I’m very, very sorry Crowley. But I’m back now.”

Crowley keeps staring at the ceiling, hating that he can feel his eyes growing wet. He’d sooner scratch them out than start to cry. He keeps the crack out of his voice, “Don’t suppose any of it matters now. We’ll both pop out of existence sometime soon and this entire conversation won’t have ever happened.”

That should be reassuring, in a way. The pain and misery and heartache are all going to have never existed; no point crying over something that never happened. Crowley levels his gaze back at Aziraphale and presses back harder into the softness of the couch.

Aziraphale looks upset, angry, even, as though he expected something else from Crowley. “I really hate that you left us the way you did,” he says.

And the anger wells up again at the cruelty of him. “If you hate me you can leave. Again. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“That is so unfair – ”

“What’s unfair is that you left me, I told you the truth, and you chose heaven over facing up to that. You chose that shithole and all those arseholes and their bullshit instead of choosing me, instead of staying with me!”

“Because I had to,” Aziraphale snaps. “It was the only way to protect you and I thought, I thought, it was a way we could finally be together. And yes, I was wrong, but staying here, I knew Michael would end up in charge and Michael hates me almost as much as she hates you. If I was up there, I thought maybe I could fix things.”

“You thought you could fix me!” That’s enough, Crowley’s face burns with the shame of it and it’s only made worse when Aziraphale’s face morphs into pity and he reaches for him, shifting forward in his chair and reaching out. Crowley jumps to his feet and stalks straight across the shop floor, between the shelves, hiding pathetically, at least long enough to rake his hands back through his hair and slide his fingers behind his glasses to swipe away the tears that keep welling up and threatening to fall.

Aziraphale follows him, around the back of a shelf and appearing in front of him just as Crowley presses his glasses back against his eyes. “What are you even talking about?”

Crowley wheels around again, turning away with his shoulders hunched up high as he fights the urge to throw himself into the fight of it all. He only takes a few steps forward, into the centre of the shop, poised between the stairs up to his right and the door out to his left, both options promising a billion miles of space to run in any which direction. Except Aziraphale needs to admit his part in this, so Crowley turns back to him, stumbling backwards when he’s right there, brow furrowed and mouth set in a frustrated frown. “You just wanted to make me an angel again, all this time and the first opportunity to make me into precisely what I’m not and you thought that was right.”

“What? I didn’t – ”

Crowley speaks over the top of him, “Oh you did, you said, I’d be restored. That for all you cared for me, needed me, you could get heaven to fix me, to forgive me my sins. That’s what you meant when you say you wanted to save me. You didn’t even want me to be me, and instead of… You just forgave me.” It’s too honest an admission, too much, a weight lifted but just more anger settling in its place. When Crowley blinks, he feels the tears spill, catching in his eyelashes and gathering moist behind the glasses.

“That is not…” Aziraphale takes another step towards him and Crowley stumbles on the edge of the rug as he steps back, now trapped in the alcove with the desk and the armchair and all of Aziraphale’s dusty books. “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“But I didn’t mean it like that. I wanted you with me to help me. I wanted you with me so we could be us, together… And I didn’t know what you wanted me to say, you were so angry, you just gave up and – ”

“I wanted you to say you accepted me as is,” He didn’t want to have to admit that bit out loud but how could Aziraphale still not know? “I wanted you to choose me, I wanted you to say you loved me. Not that you forgave me, I’m a demon.”

Finally, realisation flickers across Aziraphale’s face, albeit, once again quickly replaced by anger. “But you must know that I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t want you to come to heaven and turn into one of them – “

“Now that you know what they’re like,” Crowley sneers.

“Yes, I mean, no, even before, I wasn’t trying to change you. You knew how I felt about you, and… and honestly, Crowley, I don’t know how many times I can apologise when you are being so wilfully obtuse – ”

“Wilfully obtuse?! And you haven’t even apologised for that particular mistake!” Crowley shouts. “And what am I meant to think, angel? I put all my cards on the table, I’m ready to spend forever with you, but instead you offered to make me your second in command for the literal end of everything and when I said no – for extremely good reason – you fucked off to heaven, anyway. And now you’ve only come back because everything’s gone to shit.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Crowley snarls. “You’re just back here because you want someone to talk to, someone to solve your problems. You hate that I was honest, that I kissed you, which is just fine because I hate you for leaving me.”

Aziraphale is practically shaking with barely contained rage, defiant in it but also seemingly about to stomp his feet and start screaming for the sake of it. “I do not hate that you were honest, or that you kissed me, and I do hate that I left you, but I am back now and I don’t know what else you bloody well want from me.”

Crowley laughs, miserable and half caught in his throat. “You still can’t even admit you love me!” he challenges, driving the knife into his own heart some more.

Aziraphale roars back: “Well, technically, neither can you!”

That stops everything in its tracks. It’s nonsensical to Crowley for a long moment – of course he loves Aziraphale, of course he does – and it’s unclear what Aziraphale is even getting at. It’s that delay in logical thought that lets Aziraphale say it, voice going soft, still angry, and fiercely honest, “I do, though, I do love you and I think it’s more than anyone has ever loved anything or anyone in over six thousand years. It’s… a lot.”

It punches the air right out of Crowley, square in the guts like a freight train; even though he knew it to be true, he’d given up on ever, ever hearing it. Eventually he takes in a shuddering breath. It doesn’t change anything, though. “I knew,’ he admits, as quiet as Aziraphale now. “I know.”

The anger remains, just beneath the surface, frustration at the world, at heaven and hell and God, pooling and mixing with the abject fear of non-existence and what comes next which provokes the tiniest, most pathetic glimmer of some sort of hope.

Aziraphale watches him, hands balled into fists at this sides. “Do you know, though, really?”

Crowley nods, “I do,” of course he knows but somehow Aziraphale doesn’t seem to believe him, his head shaking just slightly from side to side until it’s not, and he’s nodding to himself, like he’s made up his mind.

"You don’t.” And then Aziraphale’s on him and it’s too much, too fast, and it’s everything.

Aziraphale’s mouth, hot and wet and pressing so insistently at his, hard enough to feel the teeth through their lips and to know he’s stopped breathing. Aziraphale grabs him, rough scratching handfuls of the wool at his chest pulling Crowley into his body and then pushing him back against the desk, catching him there, and then not stopping, pressing up hard and close and Crowley’s forced to slide back, arse on the edge, wood digging into his thighs when Aziraphale step into the gap between them and is covering him completely.

Crowley’s hands searching blindly for purchase on the desk, three books and the plant perched on top of them tumble to the floor and then it takes a split second for Crowley’s body to give in completely and utterly. And then only a second beyond that for Crowley to consciously decide that if this is the moment they’re burned from existence, at least it’s at the very top of their game.

He kisses Aziraphale back, a hand into his stupidly coifed hair, intent on ruining it, and the other wrapping around the middle of his back, hand grabbing at the softer-than-it-looks velvet – he discovers – of the stupid angelic overcoat.

Aziraphale is licking at his lips, increasingly wet and demanding, and not very angelic at all. Crowley chases the touch and closeness, mouth falling open and he can’t help but moan at the feeling of Aziraphale licking inside, searching out the inner heat and slick of his top and then his bottom lip, back again and again and then inside, across Crowley’s teeth and then darting up behind. Aziraphale tastes and smells the way he’s meant to taste this close, the disinfected, bleached smell of heaven dissipating as it’s overwhelmed with earthy, sweet, Aziraphale.  

They kiss raw and open and messy, without any finesse and there’s still a recess in Crowley’s mind that holds onto the anger, and another stuck cornered by fear. Any moment… any moment he won’t just lose this, it will never have happened.

The thought and Aziraphale’s teeth closing around his bottom lip, biting and sucking, pulls a pained whimper from him that he’s never heard himself make before and Aziraphale pulls back, eyes wild, a question there. Are we really doing this?

And Crowley drags him back down. More warm, flushed, heady kisses, too much spit and too many little sounds of surprise and surrender. Aziraphale’s hands eventually find there way up Crowley’s chest to his neck, dipping inside the turtleneck to skirt a thumb over his Adam’s apple, to scratch fingernails across the nape. Around his jaw and into his hair, angling him and guiding him until Aziraphale can pull his lips from Crowley’s mouth and kiss across his cheek, still too sticky-wet and remarkably tender as Aziraphale tilts his face to kiss and then nuzzle at his temple, sucking in the smell of his hair through his nose even as Crowley pants against his neck.

Aziraphale’s hands find Crowley’s glasses and tentatively, he slips them off to reveal Crowley’s amber irises, ignited, glaring, defiant and turned on, his lashes wet and clumped and the skin just beneath his eyes still tear-stained. A soft, gentle, “Oh,” escapes Aziraphale’s lips as he holds Crowley’s face in his hands. “Oh, I never, ever meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry I…” He presses his mouth to Crowley’s temple as Crowley’s eyes flutter closed. Azirapahle presses three small kisses, moving in towards the hollow of his eye socket and then down, ever so careful, kissing at the salt and his eyelashes. Aziraphale’s thumbs press and knead at Crowley’s temples and then he kisses up his nose, from the tip to the bridge to his forehead, and then across each closed eyelid. He traces that path again and again, soft and tender, until Crowley’s left clinging to him, a heavy, hunched weight in his arms, face upturned and revelling in the affection.

When Crowley smiles, easy and open, as his eyes glowing, Aziraphale takes it as his penance served, and returns to Crowley’s mouth. He kisses him deeply, pouring such heart into it that Crowley can almost feel his eyes welling up again. But then, Aziraphale tilts his head, and shifts to kiss from the other side of Crowley’s face, and very quickly, it all stops being tender and soft, and shifts to urgent and hot and desperate.

The unmistakable press and pull of Aziraphale’s tongue in and against Crowley’s, rhythmic and insisting, sets them on the course for more. It bolts straight down Crowley’s spine, out to his fingertips, and into his cock which was already half-hard, but now gives a twitch that he feels reverberate into his thighs. Even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined… Even twelve seconds ago, he thought he would take his chance to kiss Aziraphale until their lips were numb and the sun was high in the sky and then that would be it. That or they’d kiss until they stopped existing.

Aziraphale’s mouth has found his jaw again, no longer content just with wet, warm kisses, he’s biting, raking his teeth along the bone there and then stopping to suck until the blood vessels burst and blossom into marks. It’s pulling needy, downright embarrassing noises from Crowley but he doesn’t have the cognizance to care right now. Instead, he twists his neck to try to give Aziraphale the best access, choking on a moan as his eyes flicker open to catch Aziraphale throwing him a smirk before he latches back on to the spot just below Crowley’s ear and sucks.

Tugging the neck of the turtleneck down, Aziraphale murmurs something displeased, unable to get to enough of Crowley’s skin with the scratchy wool caught between his chin and the column of Crowley’s throat.

As Aziraphale bites another mark into Crowley’s jaw, he murmurs, “You don’t know how much time I thought about this in heaven,” and Crowley arches beneath him.

Crowley had been aware that he was fully hard in his jeans, straining against the denim and dribbling a wet spot into the cotton of his underpants, and now, with the forceful push of Aziraphale’s hips in to meet Crowley’s arch, inching him forward on the desk, he can feel the unmistakable pressure of Aziraphale’s own Effort. It’s equally hard, hot and over-whelming, and, still tripping over thoughts to respond to Aziraphale’s confession, it drags a plea from Crowley, “Fuck, Angel, really?”

Aziraphale kisses the underside of Crowley’s jaw. “I hated it there, almost as soon as I arrived. I missed you. And you’d just kissed me. And so I thought of this, of us.” He tries to kiss down beneath the turtleneck again and growls his frustration into Crowley’s ear when the wool gets in his way. “I wasn’t sure if they would know but I couldn’t help myself.”

Aziraphale’s hands race over Crowley’s shoulders, down his arms and his back, feather-light even through the wool, over his ribs and down to his waist. The material has already ridden up, escaped where Crowley’s jeans have slipped dangerously low around his hips, and there’s a strip of pale naked skin there. Aziraphale’s fingers find it before he pulls all the way back to watch as they caress across, from hipbone to the teasing line of flame-red hair just above the belt buckle. Crowley doesn’t breathe but somehow his belly still trembles, he wonders if Aziraphale can see that the hair grows thicker the further down he goes, that it’s ticklish and painful and burning hot all at once when Aziraphale scratches his nails through it, catching ever so slightly. Surely the unmistakable bulge in his trousers is obvious, too. And he just wills Aziraphale to touch him.  

“I want more,” Aziraphale says, both hands petting back and forth across Crowley’s skin.

“Anything,” Crowley manages.

His hands slip instantly under the wool of the turtleneck, flat to Crowley’s stomach but not wasting any time. Aziraphale pushes them up, over Crowley’s chest and Crowley raises his arms obliging so that the garment can be slipped easily over his head.

Dropping it to the side, Aziraphale looks positively ravenous in the moment he takes to rake his eyes over Crowley’s chest – pale and flecked with red hair, dusky red nipples, and really nothing Aziraphale hasn’t seen before – and then press his whole face into Crowley’s neck.

Biting, licking, blowing cold air just to watch the stretch and tilt that Crowley reacts with, to listen to the sounds he can drag from him. He takes his time but works quickly, finding the spot where he can feel Crowley’s pulse against his tongue before he descends to mouth across one clavicle and then the other.

“My turn,” Crowley growls, only when it’s become a mantra in his head and he can’t stop himself. Aziraphale looks startled, like he was lost in the skin under his mouth. But Crowley doesn’t wait, both hands going to that dreadful, over-starched tie, ready to yank it free and drag it from Aziraphale’s neck –

“Hell, that’s a clip-on!” he’s utterly repulsed and Aziraphale laughs at him.

“I tried to get them to give me a bowtie, or even just a proper tie, but they said this was more practical.” Aziraphale pouts, his lips kissed red and slick, his hair increasingly back to the twisted curls and tufts that Crowley loves. “I think it’s ghastly.”

“Well fuck that then,” Crowley says and then yanks the offending item away, flinging it halfway across the shop. He then sets to work on the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt which he instantly finds over-starched and the buttons, frustratingly, just a little too big for the buttonholes. Two buttons down though, and he can get a kiss to Aziraphale’s neck that draws a sigh of delight. More buttons and he can lean down his chest, burying his face in the white curls and breathing in before he bites across a pectoral muscle and closes his mouth around a pretty pink nipple.

“Jesus,” escapes Aziraphale, all high pitched and breathless as his hands thread into Crowley’s hair and twist.

That hitches Crowley’s breath and he rewards it with his teeth, gently nipping at the skin just beneath. “Blasphemy,” Crowley teases and then shifts to lick across to the nipple on the other side. In some dim corner of his mind, he really can’t believe he’s doing this, that Aziraphale is letting him do this.  

Rather, Aziraphale is asking him to do it, because his hands are still racing tracks across the planes of Crowley’s naked back and his chest and his belly, rougher each time through the descending line of hair there, scratching lines across his belly button on the next pass, and then teasing at the belt with his thumb. And he’s babbling, still coherent and overly verbose, but clearly struggling: “Crowley… Crowley dearest, I… uh – I need you closer.” He pulls his face up to his and kisses him off-centre on the mouth. “I need – ” he keens as Crowley cuts him off with a bite to his lip. “I need all of you.”

“You have me,” Crowley admits, against his better judgement and all rational thought, and as Aziraphale’s hands drop to his belt with clear intent, Crowley’s own start to push back Aziraphale’s already hanging open shirt and the heavy velvet monstrosity of a jacket that lays on top of it.

Except he simply can’t get the garments off Aziraphale while Aziraphale still has his hands on him. Suddenly, the belt buckle springs open and the leather strap that encircles Crowley’s waist is being yanked all the way free and getting to Aziraphale’s shoulders stops being a priority. Crowley’s hands race to the clasp of Aziraphale’s trousers: another blaster button, then another and then a zip. It’s a race with only winners and a scramble of fingers and fabric and Aziraphale’s still trying to kiss him through it.

Then he gets his hands inside Aziraphale’s trousers, pushes his pants down his thighs, letting Aziraphale’s cock fall into his palm and it’s hot and hard and so very right. They should have been doing this for six thousand years. And then Aziraphale’s hand, hot and slick with spit or sweat – it doesn’t matter – has slipped under the waistband of Crowley’s pants and wrapped around his aching erection.

Aziraphale strokes maddeningly slowly from base to tip and Crowley groans out an, “Oh fuck,” as his own grip tightens around Aziraphale.

Aziraphale continues to stroke, too slow and not quite tight enough but still better than any feeling Crowley’s ever experienced. Crowley’s mouth hangs uselessly open in a permanent gasp and so Aziraphale gives up trying to coordinate kissing him and just rests his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Together, they stare down at the complete lack of space between them, trousers still caught, clinging to their hips, their cocks and hands shades of red and pink and pale cream, coarse curls of starkly contrasting hair scratching against each other. “I’ve got you,” Aziraphale murmurs, all wonderment and potent pleasure. “I’ve always got you.”

He lets his hand leave Crowley’s cock to twitch between them, catching against the backs of Crowley’s fingers where they’re still wrapped around Aziraphale. Aziraphale grips Crowley’s hips and pulls him forward, right to the edge of the desk and it instinctively makes Crowley’s hands loose from Aziraphale’s cock and hip, flung out to grab onto the wood so he can steady himself. His legs come up of their own volition to wrap tight around Aziraphale’s hips. His stupid jeans are still on though, the waistband across his ass cutting into the skin as it’s pulled tight and low, the cold sharpness of the undone zipper framing his dick, uncomfortably tight just below his balls and Crowley has to silently will more give into the material to let him stay like this, wrapped around Aziraphale.

Then their cocks catch between them, lined up perfectly, caught between bellies and scratchy hair and the heat of it all. Aziraphale gives an experimental rock of his hips and it’s glorious if entirely not enough and too dry and at an awkward angle.

And perhaps it’s all too much, too fast. Crowley had given up on ever seeing him again only half an hour ago, had despised him enough to want to never see him again even more recently. And now… now they’re this. Everything and raw and vulnerable and Aziraphale has him.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you for leaving,” Crowley says and somehow he thinks maybe it will come off playful and teasing, but he still regrets it as soon as the words spill out. He’s baiting Aziraphale and for what?

Aziraphale pulls back but his hips remain tightly pressed into Crowley’s, holding him up on the desk. A flash of hurt crosses his vulnerable face and Crowley feels it prickle at his heart.

He wants to take it back, but he can’t, so he just tilts his hips down, rolls them and grinds and tries to get the leverage from his grip on the desk to make them both feel good in some sort of tactile, sybaritic apology.  

Aziraphale chokes on a soft, mewling, desperate sound and then asks, “Do you love me, though?”

Crowley blinks, frozen, feels the heavy breaths being drawn deep into Aziraphale’s belly against him, the coolness of the sweat across his own chest, the thrum and thump of the blood in his veins, all the way down through his cock and right up against the heartbeat of Aziraphale.

He knows. He must know.

“Because you’ve not, technically, actually said,” Aziraphale says.

Oh. “Oh, yes. Yes, I – yes completely – ” He still hasn’t said it, and when he does it’s more matter-of-fact, less romantic than what Aziraphale probably wants. “I love you. I love you entirely, all-consumingly. I’ve loved you since… A long time. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Aziraphale kisses his lips, simple presses, messy and hot with everything that’s come before. “We can work on the forgiveness stuff later then?” And Aziraphale breathes, reaching in between them, hand wrapping around them both and stroking again from root to tip.

“Yes,” Crowley hisses, head falling back for a moment, lax in his relief but his grip on the table and around Aziraphale’s waist still tight, straining. Aziraphale continues to stroke, both of them hard and in hand, haphazard and the pressure relegated more to one side because he can’t possibly make a proper fist around the weight and the heat of them but it doesn’t matter. “Yes, just like that,” Crowley encourages as he brings his mouth back to Aziraphale’s.

Another dirty kiss, sumptuous and slow, just tongues and heavy breathing, grunts and moans as Crowley tries to angle up just right, and Aziraphale tries for the right kind of friction. Unbidden, Aziraphale confesses into the corner of Crowley lips, “I really want to get my mouth on you.”

It draws a new, higher pitched keening cry from Crowley and he’s too close, that could be the end of it except he still wants more. “Next time,” he mumbles, “Next time, I promise,” and he wills that reality into existence.

Aziraphale grunts and his hand retreats, Crowley arches to maintain the friction, lets go of the desk for a moment but almost topples, and then whines to try to convince Aziraphale to touch him again. Aziraphale’s lips leave his and Crowley chases, eyes still closed as he tries to narrow in on the growing pleasure between them – that’s what he wants and he’s gluttonous for it, lusting after it, happily sinful if Aziraphale would just give it to him.

But instead it’s Aziraphale’s fingers on his lips, pushing inside, three of them, and Crowley’s eyes open with a start. “Suck,” Aziraphale says, low and rough in a way that makes Crowley’s balls tighten and his cock throb, a heavy drop of precome pulsing out onto their stomachs.

He sucks, diligently, wetly, refusing to swallow anything until the spit is dripping down his own chin and Aziraphale’s wrist and Crowley’s watching him look absolutely rabid with it. When Aziraphale wraps his hand around them again, it’s slick with precome and Crowley’s spit and from the drag of that first blissful stroke, Crowley wonders if Aziraphale’s miracled up even more slick than he could take from his mouth.

Lips against his, the squeeze and stroke of their cocks together is certainly too much now and Crowley can feel his spine turning to liquid. He can’t kiss, can only breathe and chase the touch with the tilt of his hips and the low, guttural groans escaping his lips.

Aziraphale remains strikingly coherent. “Tell me about next time, Crowley?” and he gives a devilish smile that Crowley can sense against his cheek. “What will we do?”

“Everything,” Crowley manages as Aziraphale’s hand catches just below the head of his cock and twists.

Aziraphale hums against his cheek, begging more.    

“Anything you’ll let me,” Crowley confides, biting the inside of his cheek and then at Aziraphale’s neck to hold himself together.

“Tell me,” Aziraphale says and his thumb slicks across the wetness right at the tip of Crowley’s cock, pressing in on it and swirling it around and then grinning delightedly at the little, involuntary buck of Crowley’s hips.

Crowley breathes out, squeezes his legs around Aziraphale’s waist and he’s so close, he could come if Aziraphale would just let him. “Angel,” he warns.

“I’d let you do anything,” Aziraphale tells him and finally the crack in his voice gives away just how close he is as well. “I want you to take me apart.”

That would have been the end of him except Aziraphale grips the base of them both and then stills. As though he can feel just how close things are, and still wants to drag it out, he unwraps his hand and then and then dances his fingertips up along the damp line of hair to Crowley’s bellybutton. “Tell me about next time,” he demands.

Crowley leaves the mark he’s bitten into Aziraphale’s neck, knowing they can miracle it away afterwards but hoping desperately, that they won’t. He just wants and if Aziraphale wasn’t holding him up against the desk, Crowley’s sure he could have Aziraphale up against a wall or a bookshelf or on the floor. That’s next time, and his hips rock up at the thought. He grabs handfuls of Aziraphale’s arse, his grip under the overcoat but over the fabric of his trousers, and grinds hard against him.

“Next time, everything,” he says and Aziraphale scratches down his chest and grips their cocks together again. He doesn’t move though, stares at Crowley, eyes locked, waiting for the assurance, for a promise.

Crowley licks his lips. “Next time, you’ll let me fuck you, won’t you, angel?”

Aziraphale’s lips fall open and he nods. He starts to stroke again and immediately they’re both shuddering into it, half-aborted spasms of their hips as they both hold taut and try to make the moment stretch but now they really are too far gone, they’re going to come just like this, on a desk, in their bookshop, half dressed, and frantic and not quite forgiven.

Crowley wants to make him come first, though, wants to watch him fall apart, wants that small victory and he can see what his words are doing. Unfathomable reactions from his imperfect, beautiful angel, even as Aziraphale touches him like sin and presses him hard enough into the edge of the desk to leave bruises.

“Next time, you’ll let me open you up with my fingers, you’ll let me take my time, you’ll let me use my tongue.” Aziraphale moans and thrusts up into the fist of his hand, along the length of Crowley’s cock and it makes him stutter. “Or… or maybe you can do all that to me? Next time, or the time after – ”

Crowley doesn’t know how’s he’s still in one piece, the steady leak of liquid from his cock, from Aziraphale’s and now it’s almost too wet, too slick, too hot, too much, the sharp tug and drag of Aziraphale’s hand bordering on pain because he’s been holding himself back for too long, but he needs to take Aziraphale, need to see him fall apart, needs to know it’s just as bad for him.

Crowley arches back, forces his eyes open so he can see Aziraphale, sweating and breathing stop-starting and heavy, chest and cheeks flushed, and one hand working fast over both of them even as the other continues to hold on to Crowley by the back of his neck.

“Look at you, you’re gagging for it,” Crowley reveals before he can stop himself and Aziraphale’s eyes snap open and up and instead of being affronted, he just grins lascivious and shy in equal measure. “My angel and all you want in the world right now is to get those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock so you can swallow me whole and – ”

Aziraphale’s eyes fall shut and he clings to Crowley, hand tightening around them both as his cock spasms and he rocks hard into Crowley’s hips. He breathes out an almost silent ‘Fuck!’ as he starts to come.

And Crowley feels the throb of him, sees him spilling, pearly white, warm and viscous, between them with a look of such deep concentration and bliss painted across his upturned face, and that’s all it takes to push him off the precipice.

Precarious, but worth it, he lets go of the desk with one hand and wraps it over the top of Aziraphale’s, fingers sliding between his and grasping where they’re hard and blood-filled and intimate, tight and hot and sliding as everything inside him breaks like a wave crashing on rocks.

Crowley shudders and chases every last pulse of pleasure, every last twitch from either of them, the back and forth of friction and reaction dragging it out while Aziraphale breathes hot and hitched against his ear and Crowley finds skin to dig his teeth into. They hold there until their hands still, and then their bodies, and finally their breath. Then it’s just Crowley’s hand interlaced with Aziraphale’s around their softening, over-sensitive cocks, and an ungodly mess of spit and sweat and come.

They disentangle slowly, fingers refusing to leave each other’s and their linked hands settling clasped somewhere between their chests. Crowley’s legs unloop from Aziraphale’s back and his feet find gravity and support on the floor even as his jeans slip immediately down to his knees when Aziraphale takes a half a step backwards to give him just enough space to stand in. They lean forehead to forehead and Crowley debates what to do about his pants, about the mess, about the fact that he’s still thinking about Aziraphale’s mouth on him and that that feels like it’s making his blood change direction in his veins.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupts his train of thought which is probably for the best. “I’ll clean us up?”

He mumbles something, finding his tongue heavy and not quite correctly connected to his brain yet, but it must sound affirmative because with a flick of Aziraphale’s wrist, everything is clean and dry and, even though it’s disgusting, Crowley instantly misses it. His jeans have even inched their way back up his thighs, to the point where they can’t make any further headway because Aziraphale’s still pressed too close to him.

With an obvious look of reluctance, Aziraphale steps further back and Crowley catches his jeans and hikes them back up over his hips.

Aziraphale clears his throat. “I think… I hope…. Well, I think we should probably save the earth. And if not the earth, at least ourselves.”

The hanging dread of everything comes crashing back in, but something in Crowley is defiant in having at least experienced this before he’s wiped from existence. Some romantic, irrational part of him even begins to think that the enormity of his love would survive him never having existed. “Yes,” he says in answer to Aziraphale’s hopeful, beaming face, still flushed and his lips kissed red, a scattering of red marks across his neck and chest and two that are already purple. Aziraphale hadn’t cleaned any of that up and it makes Crowley feel ambitious. “But probably the earth as well. I know you like it here.”

“Yes, please,” Aziraphale says. “And then I think we should talk.”

“Of course.”

Aziraphale’s tucked himself back into his trousers and done up both buttons. His hands find Crowley’s again, clean and smooth, their fingers interlacing and tugging. “Just… I think we can figure this out. I think one day you’ll forgive me, and I promise I won’t ever try and forgive you again.”

Crowley huffs at that, but it’s a foregone conclusion. “I can do better as well,” he admits. “And we will work this out. This and the Book of Life bollocks.” He brings one of Aziraphale’s hands up to his mouth to kiss across the knuckles, immediately turned on again to find them still, ever so slightly smelling and tasting of them both together. Metallic and bitter and filthy and he knows Aziraphale left that there, either for Crowley or for himself and his eyes go wide with the unexpectedness of it. “Just please, please promise we can do this again…” He sucks on a knuckle and looks at Aziraphale through his lashes as he does it.

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathes out. “Yes, most definitely.” Crowley moves to suck at another knuckle but before he can be too drawn into it, Aziraphale’s pulling his hand back with a pout. “Book of life, my love.”

Crowley thrills at the new pet name and tries to keep from preening. “Stop the second coming, save the world, and then lunch at the Ritz?” he asks, shifting to focus on the enormity of the task ahead even as he tries to draw one more smile from Aziraphale.    

Aziraphale gives him a look, a soft little grin and an arch of his eyebrows, a playful warning. “I believe you already know what I’ll be putting my mouth around once all this is taken care of and it is most certainly not lunch at the Ritz. Best get on with it!”

And even though in that moment Crowley’s balks, a choked laugh escaping him as Aziraphale grins, they do get on with it. All of it. Everything.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics where the main pairing is versatile in bed and both top/bottom (or as we say in this fandom they kind of share that really) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🔄 And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

(E, 158k, canon) Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

🔄 Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc

(E, 99k, Will & Kate au) Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

🔄 Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

🔄 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire

(E, 95k, established relationship) the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

🔄 taste on my tongue by bethaboo / @bethaboolou

(E, 77k, reality tv) Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall.

🔄 Now you know me (for your eyes only) by nadinecestmoi

(E, 77k, famous/famous) harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🔄 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland. Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses.

🔄 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, fwb) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🔄 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry.

🔄 best kind of bad something by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, established relationship) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

🔄 Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) by @hellolovers13

(E, 20k, only one bed) Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad.But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

🔄 Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun *

(M, 17k, vampire) Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

🔄 I Still Find You Lovely by @angelichl

(M, 16k, one night stand) In which Harry goes to a bar in search of a bloke with an air-conditioned flat.

🔄 Salt and the Appetite by @sadaveniren

(E, 14k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

🔄 getting yourself wet for me by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(E, 10k, secret relationship) frat boys take on watersports

🔄 Just For Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

(E, 9k, Posh/Becks au) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

🔄 Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright *

(E, 5k, pwp) Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him? Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

🔄 Switching the positions for you by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 4k, omega Louis) the omegaverse AU where they decide to try a completely new position in bed

🔄 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis *

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🔄 Eager To Please by @enchantedlandcoffee *

(E, 1k, pwp) "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?"

- Rare Pairs -

🔄 honey, we should run away by narryblossom

(M, 18k, Niall/Harry) It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

[stickthisbig]

So! I've had longfic on the brain, so I decided to do a roundup of all my long Oxventures fic. Under the cut, you can find links and discussion to all my Oxventure stories and series that are over 10k words. There are so much more of them than I expected, but this is the fandom where I really started writing long stories as a default rather than an exception.

the deep (51076 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah, Barnaby/Lilith)

Barnaby has to get married precipitously, and that's how all the trouble starts. I think this is genuinely the best thing I've ever written? I'm my own worst critic, and I'm really pleased with it.

it's just the ride of your life (44690 words, Corazon/Prudence)

After an accident with a Wish spell, Corazon ends up as a cleric of the Yellow King. I'm hugely pleased with this story; it really gets in the weeds with D&D mechanics, and it was very satisfying. Fun fact: Drash and Malachite are characters my buddy and I played in a one-shot.

my name written next to yours (40061 words, Merilwen/Egbert, Corazon/Prudence)

Merilwen makes an error in judgment, and she and Egbert have to get married. I did not mean for this story to be as long as it is, but it's all for Popular Character Ilranos. I maintain Egbert's summoning is one of the best scenes I ever wrote.

The Alien (32446 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah, Kasimir/Edvard, Kasimir/Barnaby)

If the Hobbyhorses had a coin for every time someone was replaced with a younger version of themselves, they'd have three coin. These weren't originally meant to be connected, but it worked better this way. And of course, the most powerful force in all the realms is lesbian breakup drama.

high road (34273 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah, Barnaby/Lilith, Barnaby/OFC)

Kasimir, Edvard, and Zillah fall backwards into a relationship, and then they go into exile. All of my heart is already on the page with this one, so I will say instead that I do think that Marjorie and Claire became best friends, and Marjorie also calls Claire her sister, just to skeeve people out.

component parts (31429 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

Dunno what to say about this story, actually. It's the only story I've written where Kasimir is healed, and also the only one with a collaring scene. They aren't related.

the whole world hinges on your swings (21546 words, Purvis/Margot, Purvis/his DiJi girlfriend)

Margot needs stress relief, and Purvis readily volunteers. This was very cathartic to write.

no subtitle (20079 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah, implied Agent 47/Diana Burnwood)

Agent Z gets handled. A crossover with a fandom I know next to nothing about, but I think it went okay.

try (not) to see it my way (18767 words, Corazon/Prudence)

It has been 0 days since Corazon was last cursed. I really love "I could make him worse" sorts of codependent romantic entanglements in my stories. Delicious.

you're only as big as your battles (18083 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah et al)

Kasimir meets Edvard and Zillah at a dungeon. I rarely write modern AU in this fandom, but this was very satisfying to write. I really liked engaging with Kasimir as an old man (even though he's not old).

unembarrassed (16159 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah, Barnaby/Lilith)

Man idk what to tell you, Edvard's got a huge dick and Barnaby slut shames Lilith. I think initially these were meant to be unrelated, but they work thematically, I feel.

what I believe in I'd rather not say (15968 words, Barnaby/Lilith)

Barnaby doesn't join a sex cult that worships a snake god. I had a blast writing this tbh, and I still want to make Lilith's dress.

Hell For Leather (15574 words, Prudence/Dob/Corazon)

The gang has to go undercover at that kind of party. Sometimes you write a story because you want to wallow in all the sumptuous detail. Also I still think the youtuber clothing shop is fucking hysterically funny.

flawed (19511 words, Barnaby/Lilith, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

Lilith is absolutely heartless, until she isn't. I really liked playing around with the expectations of what it takes to be a dom in this one.

Deferred Maintenance (13842 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

They come back to Volisport and have to move on with their lives. I will make all of you love Gizmo or die trying.

downtime activities (13587 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

Kasimir, Edvard, and Zillah get stranded in a safehouse. I like this one a lot; I think I really captured the paranoia and stuffiness of being trapped inside for months. No idea why I'd be writing about that.

silver bells and shotgun shells (12575 words, Kasimir/Zillah, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

Kasimir and Zillah have a big/little relationship, and Edvard joins in. The extent to which Edvard absolutely commits to the bit is so important, and I never see bigs or littles in fanfic that aren't just daddy and baby girl.

pebbles on water (12297 words, Kasimir/Edvard/Zillah)

Kasimir leaves Volisport for Skovlan, or does he? This one is just so damn sad, and I wished dearly to make everyone sad with me.

Eye Opener (11377 words, Dob/Corazon, Everyone/Everyone)

Corazon invents pornography. I really wanted to engage with Dob as an artist, because I think he has this side to him that isn't quite so over the top. Also yes this is the one the Oxbox account reblogged the art of.

they never, ever seem to fit (11366 words, Brad/Killian)

Everybody lives, and Brad decides that Killian is his boyfriend. There is so much of me in this; I love mindfuck and the trousers of time and I am still extremely angry about how Michael Sam was treated. I may have extended this to 10k just to capture this one.

Hell Raiser (11127 words, Prudence/Dob/Corazon)

Cthulhu demands that Prudence give him an heir, Prudence demands that Corazon give her his genetic material, and Dob gets everybody out of it. My first fic in the fandom! Start as you mean to go on.

they all suppose what they want to suppose (10494 words, Prudence/Corazon)

Corazon has to go to pirate court and tells everyone that the crew are his concubines. I don't think fanfic has enough of competence kink Corazon? Corazon is a peacock, but he's also incredibly good at his job. So, pirate stuff.

[bellamioneotp]

Bellamione Fic Master List

Making a list of Bellamione fics to guide the poor innocent souls into temptation organize stories based on AU type. 

DARK AU’s

Bellatrix isn’t a bright ball of sunshine, but rather than have a story where she becomes a better person, Hermione becomes like her, or even joins her side. This AU type isn’t limited to only that, but also to general dark themes in the story such as violence, war and ‘wtf this is so wrong but yet I can’t stop reading’. 

Reign Down Like wow. A whole world built around what if Voldemort survived and used Hermione in his evil schemes and had Bellatrix engaged to her. Very detailed and the author doesn’t hold back on aspects of the new world that can be somewhat unsettling. 25/10 this will leave you wondering just how sexy dark magic can truly feel. 

The Dark Corners of the Earth This one is dark in an entirely different sense. Bellatrix and Snape are pitted in an ancient war against one another and Hermione is caught in the middle. The romance moves a bit too fast paced for me but the lore and detail in this will have you really thinking this story over the next few days, trying to figure out just wtf is going on. 45/10 will have you hoping your nightlight can keep Cthulhu away. 

Haunted This story won’t leave you haunted, but it is pretty good even with it’s short chapters and all. It tells the story of Hermione sort of losing her marbles but I won’t get into too much detail. Just read it for yourself; it’s a quick easy read. 10/10 is poetic as fuck. 

I Dream of Sin Takes place in a sort of canon world in which Hermione is an American teen being bullied. You can imagine how well that goes for the bullies especially when she learns she has magic and is taught by Bellatrix herself on how to use it. It gets progressively darker each chapter. 16/10 don’t want to mess with magical nerds ever. 

For whom the Bell Tolls is an interesting look into how Hermione’s actually a death eater and Bellatrix is not. While Hermione is not bat shit insane, she is a murderer and Bellatrix is the sane one. Nice to see things switched up. This story is not necessarily as dark as the others but it gets brownie points for making the usually good Hermione evil right off the bat. 9/10 come to the dark side, we have cookies. 

Staring at Nothing is just...wow.  A very powerful one shot about Hermione’s descent into darkness as told by Harry’s perspective. 10/10 for who needs friends anyways, when you’ve got black leather. 

Visions of You in which Hermione is a depressed youth after the war and has to deal with hallucinations of Bellatrix. Hermione isn’t dark here so much as she is gray type, and the story has a permeating tinge of sadness to it, given the circumstances. 8/10 for maybe Bellatrix isn’t a hallucination? 

Deep Below what’s more awful than being accused of Harry’s death? Being falsely accused of it, and having to deal with trying to prove your innocent. This is a situation Hermione ends up in. But will she get out of it? 8/10 for this gets deep. 

How to Love Bellatrix captures Hermione and sort of indoctrinates her into the world of darkness. Hermione is mad at first, but then she realizes how sexy Bellatrix is and is like, ‘alright fam, sign me up’ and boom Bellamione. 8/10 you love this story but not it’s update schedule. 

TIME TRAVELER AU’s

Basically, what it says on the tin. Someway or another, Hermione goes back into time to stop Bellatrix from ever becoming evil. Drama and romance ensue. 

Future Shocks A good time turner fic with a more modern take on war. It’s pretty long and it is the slowburn of all slowburns. But it’s a very interesting story and the ending will have you definitely shook. 8/10 will shock you awake from that boring lecture you’re reading fanfic in. 

Time Heals all Wounds Hermione gets sent back in time to ‘redeem’ Bellatrix but not in the gift card way, more like saving the future type way. They end up, you guessed it, falling in love and changing the future somewhat. 6/10 is a young teen romance that will have you reliving your adventures as a young sapphic witch. 

Mirror, Mirror Not exactly a time turner fic, more like a parallel world, I suppose. Hard to explain but has good amounts of mystery and trying to understand what is happening. Focuses more on Bellatrix’s POV which is a nice change of pace. 8/10 will have you looking in the mirror and summoning Bellatrix like she was Bloody Mary. 

Let the Light Come and Take me A time turner fic that ends up with Bellatrix time traveling but to the future and the chaos her arrival there causes for those who are acquainted with her devious ways. Looks at the growth of our two ladies relationship into something more. 5/10 if it’s not slowburn romance is it really Bellamione?

The One Within the Other this story is about, you guessed it, time travel! Hermione goes back on purpose to stop Bellatrix from achieving her evil potential and in the process love blossoms. 7/10 for never enough time to read Bellamione in peace!

Caught in the Time series this is a series of three full length stories about Bellamione stuck in different times and universes. So much happens in them it’s kind of hard to summarize so the best thing to do is read them. 8, 8.5, 7/10 I’ll let you figure out which score goes for which series.

Just say When started off as a time turner story but then it ended up becoming something more of an espionage tale. It’s a good read and interesting to see how Bellatrix aims to save Hermione from a dementor’s kiss (spoilers!) in order to save their future together. A good mix of romance and action. 8/10 The name’s Black. Bellatrix, Black. 

The Broken Wand It all starts with a wand and then before you know it, boom, time travel happens. Featuring Loki and adventure all around, this fic has interesting plot points to keep you engaged despite the slower update times. 7/10, will break your wand too. 

Hourglass basically, a young Bellatrix is brought into the future and consequences abound from that mishap. The plot is a bit wonky and there are some logic mistakes, but if you can get over it, it’s a decent time travel story. 5/10 for it must be canon that Bellatrix has a lovely hourglass figure. 

Times they are a Changing where Bellatrix travels back in time to save her wife, Hermione. Nice to see a story where Hermione isn’t the one doing all the saving. Unfortunately there’s only six chapters to this story and it’s unlikely it’ll ever get finished but it’s a nice fresh concept. 6/10 for that’s how many chapters there are. 

Destined in this one, Hermione experiences some wonky times after the battle at the department of mysteries. Hermione has to find a way back home, but perhaps she might find love along the way? 10/10 for this is destined to be an interesting read. 

HEALER AU’s 

Let’s be real, Bellatrix has got a lot of problems and these authors try to solve them, with sex. And you know, medical help. But sex definitely helps a lot. 

Portrait of a Tragic Woman Not a typical healer type au, because Hermione is a therapist whose helping Bellatrix with her mental disorders. Focuses a lot on the relationship between the two and really makes you try to figure out what exactly is up with Bellatrix and what is her past, etc. The ending chapters will leave you shooketh and wondering what even is real anymore. 50/10 because it feels like an acid trip, man. 

The Healer is only one chapter but still worth a read. Hopefully the author will have some time to get back to it because it has a huge potential. 6/10 because I need some healing. 

1k is a one shot, featuring Hermione as a therapist and Bellatrix as her patient. Can’t say too much without spoiling it, but despite it’s short length, the author paints a vivid look into Bellatrix’s mind if she was just an insane muggle. 1k/10 because that’s one patient I would never like to meet.

Darkness Underneath I mean, Hermione runs a team of healers, so technically it’s kinda a healer au fic, right? This story looks more in depth at the Death Eaters and dark magic surrounding them. 9/10 is that a dark mark or are you just happy to see me?

TEACHER AU

We all know this is the holy grail au of this fandom and yet there’s only a couple of long stories for this. Someone, write some more!

Fractures A long fic, that has a sequel. Basically, Bellatrix is Hermione’s teacher during a very trying time for Hermione when a competition goes very wrong and dark truths are revealed. Lot’s of action, Bellamione interactions, and overall interesting plot. 8/10 will leave your heart in fractures when you find out the sequel is unfinished. 

In the Dead of Night Hermione asks Bellatrix if she can teach her some.....magic and things end up becoming very magical indeed. Bellatrix is the teacher in this story (because who wouldn’t want her as a teacher). It’s a WIP with only a couple of chapters out. 7/10 time to learn some real lessons, Granger ;)

Just a Brand features not only Bellatrix as a professor, but a magical soul mate bond between Bellatrix and Hermione that leads to much deliciousness. There’s a lot of chapters to this story but they’re pretty short. An updated and revised version can be found on a03 for those who like longer chapters. 7/10 Bellamione is branded on my soul. 

It Just Felt Right is another fic with Bellatrix as the professor. Hermione starts off hating her and then it evolves into liking Bellatrix. The fic leaves off before any real progress can be made so if anyone is up for reading an unfinished fic from 2012 then go for it. 6/10 for this story feels right but not write because it’s abandoned :(

CRIME AU 

Because there is never enough crime involved even with Bellatrix, these authors amp up the trouble and make it double. And gay. So very gay. 

Two Sides of the Same Coin where Bellatrix is basically an auror. It’s only five chapters and it hasn’t been updated in a long time but it’s an interesting concept worth checking out. 9/10 wish there were more sides to the coin. 

Murder Most Horrid A crime story, where Bellatrix is a magical cop and Hermione is a murder suspect. Bellatrix interrogates Hermione by banging her and then the two of them proceed to basically get married the day after. A bit ooc for Bellatrix but very in character if you consider this world not from the canon. -89/10 for how badly your vision will deteriorate if you try to read this all in one night. 

The Mysterious Department Technically Bellatrix and Hermione are both magical detectives and they go and solve crimes and shit while also possibly trying to prevent the world from ending. You know, just casual stuff. 10/10 for the perfect crime, would commit again. 

Darkness is Falling A story that has Hermione as an auror who replaces Bellatrix’s old partner. They butt heads, they solve cases, and naturally, begin to fall in love. 7/10 for this case is closed. 

Some Things Aren’t Seen Hermione investigates Bellatrix’s crimes and past and ends up over her head. There are two follow ups to this finished work, all in the same vein. It’s all a good bit of fun watching Hermione try to take on the criminal Lestrange. 7/10, no, this has no relation to the musical Wicked. 

SOUL MATE BOND 

In one way or another Bellatrix and Hermione have a special bond in between them that destines them to be together. Angst, love, friendship, all abound in this au type. Features a combination of other factors thrown in, but the stories put in here are largely advertised in the blurb as more focused on the bond. 

Lotus Flower Hermione finds out after Bellatrix’s death that they are bound together and that because Bellatrix is dead, Hermione is dying as a result too. This begs the question, will Hermione go back in time and save Bellatrix, or will she willingly submit to the bond’s curse? 8/10 I think we all know what Hermione chooses.

Our Mercurial Selves ever wonder what it would be like to have a murderer share your mind? In this one, Hermione and Bellatrix can communicate telepathically with each other, creating a bond that draws them together. Features evil schemes by Voldemort, a flying horse, and Narcissa beating the ever loving shit out of Bellatrix for even daring to breathe in Hermione’s direction. 9/10 will leave you with warm fuzzies for the Malfoy family before the ending crushes you. 

The House Ring Bellatrix sends Hermione a magical ring that engages them and basically makes them wives. Prophecies abound about how Bellamione is meant to be the one and only true pairing. 7/10 for that ring better come with diamonds.

Demons AU

As if Voldemort isn’t scary enough, there are demons and scary things in this au type that will leave you and Voldemort both calling for mommy. 

Unsteady Precipice technically also a time traveling fic, except Hermione ends up in an alternative universe. where she tries to change things from happening in the canon world like they did. But will it work? Who knows! Only a few chapters are out so it’s hard to tell where this story will go, but one things for sure, it’ll be good. 9/10 if you don’t pray after reading this the demons will get you. 

A Demon in the Mist is also about, gasp, demons! Dangerous things are afoot in this story and Hermione is caught in the middle of it all. It takes part in the same universe as the caught in time series by the same author, but with slight alterations. Unsure if the story will be finished as the author has contemplated leaving fanfic writing. 7/10 can you find the demon in the mist?

MAGICAL CREATURES AU

Technically a category, right? Let’s pretend it is, because there are some stories out there that pit our two ladies as other than human and it’s fun to read about it. 

As we Chase the Sun Very Black family centric and features Bellatrix as a big fluffy wolf. What’s not to love? Cuddles, and hair balls, and good times all around. 9/10 would tame that wolf. 

Sing to me Your Insanity in which Hermione and Bellatrix are both sirens and will basically die if they don’t do the ol’ frickity frack. This is a long story and the slowburn feels like hellburn but it’s worth the read. 56/10 but you will need earplugs so those sirens don’t seduce you too. 

Metamorphosis in which Bellatrix is also a wolf and doesn’t like being stuck with Hermione but gets used to it and basically they’re house wives of London and don’t know it. 8/10 for your mind with undergo metamorphosis from slightly obsessed with Bellamione to even more obsessed. 

This Poisoned Blood of Ours vampires, vampires everywhere! Two parts to this series and features a confused Bellatrix and a changing Hermione. 7/10 do you think vampires like steak rare?

Cursed Doll Pretty self explanatory title. Someone ends up as a doll and shenanigans ensue. Won’t say more because it’s only two chapters, but it’s well written and worth a read. 10/10 Chucky? Is that your sister? 

Liquid Measure these chapters are thicc boy. Only two chapters but such a good set up and everything. I hope the author is able to update at some point. 10/10 makes me thirsty for more!

My Demons in the Dark Hermione is a ghost. That’s it, that’s the plot. Boo/10 for this not so spooky spirit. 

[alliterative-albatross]

So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

~

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again. 

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise! 

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory. 

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs, 

~ Jay

[viskovie]

Just A Guy On A Shady Backstreet

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Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1500±

Relationship: Tig Trager/Juice Ortiz

Warning for the tiniest amount of dub/con you've ever seen in your life. Minor season 7 spoilers, but only if you already know what the dots are that need to be connected.

Summary below~

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    This is just a little reimagining of that scene where Tig and Rat are watching the Chinese storehouse (and Tig has to think fast when the workers leave… poor Rat…), because I read a gorgeous, sexy fic by @juicehoee and fell in love with the Chibs x Juice/Tig x Juice thing, so here's 1500 words of smut ♡ All my fics (unless specifically stated otherwise) are fix-its, so Juice isn’t in trouble with the club anymore.

ALSO: this is my first time writing for the SoA fandom, and also my first time writing a BJ scene so i hope it's up to standard! ♡ General disclaimer applies.

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    “Would you quit fidgeting?” Tig snaps. He and Juice have been watching the Chinese storehouse for hours now, waiting for something to happen. Anything to break the monotony, really. It would’ve been bad enough just dealing with his own boredom, but Juice’s patience wore out in the first hour or so and he hasn’t stopped moving since. Every few seconds he wriggles in his seat, trying to find something to keep his attention occupied, but it seems he’s just in a restless mood. 

    He’d managed to get his feet up on the dashboard at one point, but then couldn’t get them down without kicking Tig in the stomach. Tig threatened to shut him in the trunk if he tried that again. Juice had said he was sorry, but he’d been fighting a grin the whole time and completely undermined the credibility of his own apology.

    Tig shifts uncomfortably. His tailbone is steadily going numb, and he’s starting to get pins and needles in his toes. He adjusts the angle of his seat and tries to alleviate some of the pressure building in his lower back. Fuck, he’s really not as young as he used to be…

    Suddenly, for whatever godforsaken reason, Juice decides to test his limits even further by popping his knuckles. One at a time. Tig glares at him, but he just shrugs and cracks his neck.

    “I swear to god, if you start tapping your fingers I will rip them off.” He grumbles darkly. “You ‘n Chucky are gonna match.” Juice only laughs.

    They’ve been waiting for another twenty minutes, during which time Tig seriously considers knocking himself out for a little peace, when there’s a commotion around the storehouse doors. He’s immediately awake, head back in the game and watching like a hawk. A couple of Chinese-looking guys load up a truck and hop in, glancing around suspiciously.

    “Should we follow them?” Juice asks anxiously. Tig shakes his head.

    “Nah.”

    “Won’t they see us?”

    “Yeah, but I’m just a guy on a shady backstreet getting cheap head.” Tig answers slyly, struck by an idea. Before Juice can fully register the implication, he's pushing his head down to his crotch. Juice struggles for a moment; probably just a natural reaction. Tig wouldn’t know. He covers his face with his free hand, peeking through his fingers and moaning lewdly for effect.

    “Are you- are you serious?!” Juice chokes out, still trying to back up. Tig pushes his head down a little harder, willing him to shut up and sit quietly for a few minutes. Mercifully, the universe complies. For once. He tilts his head back again as the truck rolls past, carefully obscuring his face and Juice’s tats from the driver.

    “They gone?” Juice mumbles. Tig decides it’s time for a little revenge.

    “Nah, not yet.” He replies, rolling his hips a tiny bit. Juice makes a strangled sound as Tig’s clothed dick brushes against his cheek, and goes still. Tig moans again, but it’s a tad more real this time.

    “Ah, baby, that’s it…” he adds wickedly. He’s ready for Juice to try to raise his head, but he’s absolutely not ready for him to do so just enough to undo Tig’s belt. He raises his eyebrows, not sure if he should stop him or not. It’s a rather foreign feeling. Juice smirks, dragging the zipper down like he’s got all the time in the world.

    He squeezes Tig’s thigh with his other hand, rubbing his face against his stomach. He teases the waistband of his underwear as Tig curses himself for actually wearing them today. His body is beginning to react to the sensual touches, and as much as he wants to pull Juice off and never talk about this again, he also wants to see how far the kid is willing to go in calling his bluff.

    Juice walks his fingers up and down his leg, getting closer and closer to his crotch every time. He glances up and Tig sees the uncertainty in his eyes. He nods, somewhat dazed, and Juice lowers his gaze to press a small kiss to his still-covered semi.

    Absently, he strokes the short hair at the top of Juice’s head, unable to tear his eyes away from the marvel happening in his lap. Heat pools in his belly as his cock is carefully freed from his pants. He hears the little gasp from Juice, and manages to pull himself (sort of) back together.

    “Juicy…” he murmurs, not quite sure what to say. Juice hums at the sound of his name and seems to take it as encouragement. His fingers are light and cool against Tig’s shaft as he begins to work him to full hardness. He nuzzles against his hip, warm breaths ghosting over the heated tip. Tig scrambles to make his brain work before Juice commits and does something they’ll both regret.

    “Hey.” He says hoarsely, heart thumping. Juice pauses in his ministrations to look up at him. “You don’t- uh, you don’t have to do this. They’re gone.” He explains, gesturing vaguely out the window. Juice blushes.

    “I know.”

    “You kn-? Oh my god.” Tig groans as the grip on his cock tightens. It sends sparks rocketing up his spine like fireworks. He throws his head back against the headrest, unable to keep from bucking his hips into Juice’s hand. He opens his eyes just in time to see him lick his lips and spit on the head. Tig watches in awe as his cock slips past those pretty pink lips and into the wet, velvety warmth of Juice’s mouth, his head suddenly feeling full of cotton.

    He isn’t aware he’s pushing him down until Juice pats his thigh urgently. He releases him with a muttered ‘sorry’ , but Juice doesn’t pull away. He just bobs a little, breathing hard through his nose. Tig knows he’ll be jerking off to this image for weeks.

    Juice takes the last few inches bit by bit, swallowing as best he can around his length, using the tip of his tongue to tease the vein on the underside. He’s doing a damn good job of it, too - Tig’s always been proud to say that he’s by no means small or delicate, and especially not in the bedroom. Or, y'know... car.

    He massages Juice’s scalp, getting a hum in return. It vibrates through his cock as spit slides over his balls in little rivulets. Juice’s throat constricts around him, and Tig jumps as he feels the faintest brush of sharp teeth. Juice snorts, petting his hip reassuringly. He draws almost all the way up, showing off the slick mess he’s making. Tig can’t decide if he wants to come in Juice’s mouth or on his pretty, flushed face. He notices peripherally that his other hand has disappeared from Tig’s hip - probably to palm at his own crotch.

    He blinks innocently before dropping with the ease of a seasoned whore, tongue darting around the thick weight of his cock. Tig moans before he can stop himself, gripping Juice’s skull with both hands. Burning hot pleasure dances through him, and he can feel himself slipping. He doesn’t want to hurt the kid, but it’s been a long time since he’s had a blowjob this good and he’s starting to lose control.

    Juice bobs his head like he’s done this hundreds of times before, his fingers flexing on Tig’s thigh. He swallows every now and then, muscles tightening deliciously, and looks up at him from under his long, damp eyelashes. Tig’s breathing heavily and his face feels hot. The whole world has narrowed down to their car, to this moment, to Juice’s lips around his cock.

    “Baby…” he warns breathlessly. Juice pulls off with an obscene pop, panting. He nods, unshed tears glittering in his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Tig heaves a groan as he takes him all the way down to the hilt once more. He sucks hard and that’s it.

    Tig’s hips jerk of their own accord as he spills down that divine throat, holding him firmly in place with an iron grip. His vision whites out for a moment in ecstasy. Juice’s tongue works as he struggles to swallow everything. After a long few moments, as Tig’s balls finally empty, he manages to get his eyes open again.

    Juice is flushed and sweaty, his lips and chin a glistening mess of spit and come. Tear tracks shine on his cheeks but he looks proud of himself. Tig can’t help fucking into his pliant mouth once or twice, despite his small noise of protest, before gently easing him off and tucking himself back into his pants. Juice sits up, wiping his face on Tig’s shoulder. For a minute, they don’t say anything, but Tig’s never liked silence, so he breaks it the only way he knows how.

    “Might have to let Diosa have you, baby boy.” He grins. “You’d make us big bucks with that mouth.” Juice rolls his eyes.

    “Then you’d have to pay me.” He retorts, his voice scratchy and beautifully ruined. Tig raises an eyebrow.

    “You talking back?” He accuses, mock seriously.

    “I just sucked your dick for free. Yeah, I’m talking back.” Juice replies, settling into his seat. Tig laughs and turns the key in the ignition.

    “Alright, smartass. Let’s get going before Jax decides to crucify both of us for being late.”

[ailec-12]

1,2,4,16 for the writing asks? 💛💛

Thanks for indulging me, dearie, you’re such a great friend. x)

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

I’ve thought about this question a lot since I first saw it at the top of the list and, while trying to answer just now, I’ve realised why I’m finding it so difficult to rate my own writing. It’s because (IMO) you can’t really rate writing as a whole accurately, even less so in fanfiction, where feelings, ships or characters are often valued over anything else. I mean, are we rating the writing style, the coherence of the plot, the ability to transmit emotions? These are all important things in a story, but they’re also very different elements. I’ve read stories that were well written and yet, failed to transmit anything, whereas some badly written fics made me come back to them time after time. How would I rate them? I have no idea.

On top of that, I don’t think I can be objective towards my own writing and summarise my thoughts in a single mark. I can share my strengths and weaknesses, though, so I hope this will make up for my lack of a proper answer.

Strengths: characterisation, grammar, giving feelings.

Weaknesses: complex plots, expanding on universes that aren’t mine, description of places.

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

Because there are ideas that won’t leave me alone until I write them down —basically, they haunt me until I get fed up and give them a damn story. It’s also a great way to keep honing my English writing skills, though that’s rather a happy side effect than a real goal/motivator.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Of course! @mariagvogel‘s attention to detail is something that amazes me, so I always try to bear it in mind. Your own ability to transport someone to a certain place or time reminds me that research plays a key part in storytelling. There are authors in my old fandoms that made me squirm with some delicious platonic/romantic slow burn, making me long to explore what it’d be like to focus a story on slowly (albeit steadily) developing relationships. While writing fanfiction, I tend to be inspired by other people in the same fandom, though probably everything that I’ve ever read and that’s left a mark inspires me somehow.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Character goes through something traumatic plus recovery —but like, when the author doesn’t jump right to the recovery part, so that the traumatic event gets explored in depth. Also, ‘hurt no comfort’ sometimes makes me feel terrible because of how much I enjoy it.

Questions for fanfic writers!

[tiredassmage]

🌗 fluff or angst?

🏆fic youre most proud of?

🌗 fluff or angst?

It's about the hurt/comfort. *clenches fist* I do definitely have days where I prefer one over the other. But both are definitely fantastic, and I cannot have just one and nothing of the other. The development of getting through or past the angst is often one of the most delicious points to me, and, equally so, a good dose of fluff is a fantastic little reward of its own. There's a lot of depth and a lot of things to explore in both situationally or for an individual character, and exploring whatever story fits them most is what will be the most satisfying for me, in the end!

For... say, a rough overview of an example, Astor has... generally been through enough being a Warrior of Light that him obtaining a healthy, happy relationship with Gaius or, in my friend and I's shared timeline of events, her oc Eden is the icing on the cake. It's what I want most for him, and what he craves most - an end to all of this fighting and uncertainty and something better to look forward to. Don't get me started on spluttering about their height differences or the silly little hcs about braiding and playing with hair or jewelry or forehead touching. It's just fantastic. It's great. It's wonderful. It's what they deserve.

But Shay's arc, on the other hand, is largely focused on him having a lot of issues that he never worked through, and now he's an adult and trying to do this whole relationship thing, and he struggles with it. He fucks up. He doesn't talk about things because he never learned how - never was really allowed to when he was younger, and he doesn't always handle that in a healthy or right or fair way the first time. Him and Airi meet in the very, very early beginnings of A Realm Reborn, and he does not really get a whole lot of it right and smoothly communicated until well at the end of Shadowbringers. He makes progress. They get better. He learns slowly how to be more genuine and kind to himself, and, as a direct result, those around him, but it's still a process. And, y'know, his whole thing is Dark Knight and greatswords and painting himself as the villain if he needs to. He can be very dramatic about it at times.

So both. Both is good.

🏆 fic you're most proud of?

If you might indulge me referencing something outside of XIV for a moment, some of my favorite personal work is actually two things I wrote for my Deputy from Far Cry 5. I meant to do a whole lot more with him and the fandom, but never got back to it outside of these two pieces, but I still find myself going back to them as a reader and enjoying what I did, and the title music of Far Cry 5 still does things to me. I actually bonded very hard with my Deputy and, while I'll admit it maybe wasn't the best of games ever, I still enjoyed it greatly and it holds a lil special place in my heart with its memories and what I did create.

So, those two, in chronological order of game events rather than the order in which I wrote them are the one thing stronger than fear, set at the close of the game's first big arc, and before the new dawn, which is a lil... fix-it, sorta to the ending of FC5. XD Both available on my AO3!

As for a specifically XIV piece, I... actually had a bit of trouble with this one. Astor being my main and having gone through a few changes since I first started playing and writing, not to mention the whole having several iterations of events bit... I have several unfinished works, and many works I've technically written, but things have changed since then, and, admittedly, I've got a bit of a writer's bane problem about it where I'm my own worst critic. I do actually have a spicy piece I wrote about Gaius and Astor's first encounter, but I'm... severely baby, severely inexperienced, and extremely asexual myself, so as happy as I am with it, it's... a me present more than anything I've yet to feel comfortable sharing. x,D

For XIV work, however, I have two selections that I'll refrain from posting for the moment at least because they both live in my google docs only and I have yet to let them live on AO3, but I have a piece set during Heavensward that explores both Astor's lingering relationship and feelings for Odeve and him and Eden's developing feelings for each other that's near and dear to my heart because it finally offered me some better closure on him and Odeve, who I actually still love dearly, and they still have lingering feelings for each other, I think, even though they both mutually and happily agreed that hey, we're best as friends, so this was an instance in which they made an exception to that - something that bothered Astor for a while because a part of him felt like he took advantage of her and used her when he was just... in a really rough spot. So having written this and knowing he and they have to work through those kinds of feelings is what keeps that place near and dear to my heart.

The other is a piece I did for a "what if Shadowbringers, but it all went horribly wrong" and basically explores what Theo would leave behind for Carvallain as that captain's most beloved nuisance. I actually adore Theo and his relationship with Carvallain and Stephanivien, but this is like, the only thing I've actually personally written for them yet, which is both tragic and wonderful because I love the emotions in this piece, but also I have... the literal entirety of their actual relationship to put into words instead of just hcs, too. xD One day!

[darkpoisonouslove]

More GxV Headcanons for the Soul (and Mind)

@ the anon that said they’d like to hear more of my Griffin and Valtor thoughts - I have some more that I just remembered. Hot from the oven even though I have had some of these ever since I first came back to this fandom last year.

I see Griffin and Valtor as complementary opposites if that makes sense. She is the water to his fire so to speak. Now we haven’t been told what element her magic revolves around and have only been given some general magical abilities she has so her element could as well be water, though I headcanon her magic is more related with space bodies and draws power from the cosmos. I look at the fire/water duality in a metaphorical way. We’ve seen Valtor’s temper on the show. He is definitely quick to anger and explode while he also can give you anything you want to warm your heart so to speak. And what we’ve seen from Griffin definitely places her temperament under the symbol of water for me in all of its states. We’ve seen her get angry much like boiling water turning to vapor, we’ve seen her be cold and calculating like ice and we’ve seen her being adaptive towards the shift in circumstances. To me she is the perfect embodiment of water as an element and the perfect complementary part to Valtor as she can both hold him back by being the rationality to his recklessness and she can match his temper to match him in his thirst for victory.

Now even though I don’t think her magic actually has anything to do with water, I headcanon Griffin as coming from a realm that is heavily water based and fares on producing crops. It’s what made her so good with plants as she knew all about them from a child and her specialty are herbs in particular. I like the idea that Griffin is actually pretty good in healing magic but she refuses to utilize her natural gift because she is tired of people reacting like it’s unheard of a witch to have healing powers. She got a lot of shit for that when she was younger so she’s suppressed that side of her powers even if it is her best and destructive magic requires a lot more effort than the healing spells that come naturally to her. Now all of this works to make her even more an opposite and simultaneously a complementary reflection of Valtor since his Dragon Fire is the thing that created all life but he is using it for destruction instead. Btw in one of my “drabbles” I wrote that in Griffin’s realm they didn’t have fireworks and all usage of fire was closely monitored due to the production of crops. You know, just for the heck of it as it made her partnership with Valtor an even more interesting dynamic. I even headcanon that she was wary of his fire powers at first just for the fact that it was fire and she was not exactly used to having someone so explosive around her at all times.

Also somewhat on the same topic, in 3x25 when Valtor used the spell of the elements against the realm of Magix, he sent water to CT and fire to Alfea which has been interesting to me to dig into. It may not have held a lot of significance as a choice to the writers but I think it rather makes sense because Valtor was so mad at Griffin about her betrayal that he thought she didn’t “deserve” to be ended by fire which is his element. And on the other hand, he was pretty pissed at Faragonda and there was already one unsuccessful attempt at permanently getting rid of her when he trapped her into the tree (unlike Griffin who he only imprisoned) so he wanted to make sure he’ll be rid of her once and for all and what better way to do that than fire? Also, of course, sending fire to Alfea aka Bloom makes sense and the Alfea/CT opposition of fire/water could have been based on the opposition between fairies and witches. Either way, I like to tie this to my personal headcanon about his and Griffin’s relationship on a symbolical level as well as his rage over the betrayal. I think it makes sense whether that was intended or not.

Speaking of CT, I have a fun question to ask right here right now (that I have actually been asking for over a year and a half now but never shared). Where does Valtor sleep in CT? We all know that he wanted to take everything Griffin had as revenge for leaving him which was why he chose CT as his new headquarters when he relocated. He’s mostly been shown to reside in her office after he took control of CT and only ever left it if he had to attend to something else (which I blame on the fact that the show was mostly like “We’ll make the villains so evil that you can’t even imagine them sleeping because that would imply a level of vulnerability that seems OOC.”) Hell, even his entrance during the confrontation with Griffin supports the idea that he wants to take her place since he made himself comfortable in her chair instantly (and Icy called him the new headmaster later). So after all of this, it would be logical to conclude that he sleeps in Griffin’s room and in her bed which I think has so much deliciously irresistible potential for angst on both parts. Like, it’s her space, her very personal, very private space that he has invaded. There is nothing sacred that he won’t touch in his quest for vengeance against her. But on the other hand, it is her space and everything in there will remind him of her and of the life she’s had after she left him for dead so to speak. Just think about the tragic implications that this set up has, soak them in, let them drown you in angst. I hadn’t shared this headcanon because I wanted to write a fic about it but that derailed and I haven’t found a good way to bring it back on track yet so I decided to finally talk about it because I just need it to be out there in the world. JUST. THINK. ABOUT. IT!!!!!!!

Another headcanon I have about them is that because they were partners and so close (it is strongly implied in canon that they did convergence together and that it was super powerful) and they were also in love and spent a lot of time together, Griffin got a feel of the Dragon Fire and can recognize the vibe it gives off so to speak. She just got attuned to the magical presence of the Dragon Fire and she can sense it even if she’s never had it herself. She’s felt it flowing together with her own magic and tangled so deeply with it that it’s almost entering her veins so many times that she’s learned how it feels and can recognize it instantly. And that is not true just about Valtor’s Dragon Fire but also about Marion and Bloom’s as well. In fact that is my explanation about her behavior in 1x06 when she attacked Winx in the library of CT. Her reaction is too overexaggerated to be normal in the situation (she legit tried to kill them for heaven’s sake) and I like to think that it was because she instantly noticed the similarity that Bloom bore to Marion and Oritel’s lost daughter but she didn’t sense any Dragon Fire coming from her because Bloom’s powers were still pretty dormant after not having been used for 16 years. Griffin thought the girl was an impostor so she attacked because she was mad about the painful memories of both Valtor and Marion and Bloom being invoked by this obviously fake “heir”. And one last thing here that I’ve already written out but it will take ages to find the post - Griffin got so used to Valtor’s fire that is was hard to be without it later so she literally conditioned herself into having a resistance to cold because she refused to be left shivering in the stead of his loss.

(I think I might have bitched about this already but I have more rage to spare and some new points to bring to the table so let’s have at it again.) Now is time for a little rant I have had ever since I rewatched s3 for the first time in the beginning of last year. It has to do with my last point in that regardless of whether Griffin can sense the Dragon Fire specifically or not, she can still sense other magic. We’ve seen it in 1x25 when she and Faragonda both sensed the Army of Decay even though it was still too far away for them to actually perceive it via any of their other senses. And we’ve seen it in 2x16 when she knew Lucy was eavesdropping despite the door that was in the way. That second one especially pisses me off so much because Lucy was a student - aka much weaker than Griffin - and she wasn’t using any magic while she was eavesdropping and Griffin still sensed her even though Ediltrude was talking to her and distracting her at the time. But then Valtor - literally the most powerful individual at the whole realm and possibly the universe at the time AND someone that she has closely worked with for years - teleports in her office which means that he used his immense power and she didn’t sense that and was surprised by him showing up. How does THAT make any sense? No, please, this is just ridiculous. She should have sensed him at the very least. I have no illusions that she stood a chance against him either way but it would have been good if they hadn’t made her look totally incompetent and had also let her throw a spell his way at the very least. They had a good opportunity for a battle there that they totally disregarded and I will be forever salty about that.

We all know that magic comes from emotions, right? Well, I have had an interesting idea which I have already included in two of my fics. What if you can read emotions through magic? We’ve all seen those moments when a character is so mad that they literally start glowing in a magical aura and their rage is tangible to everyone around so that had me thinking that perhaps the magic carries the emotional charge that powered it. And if you get attuned enough to it, you can start reading the emotions tangled in the magic. If they spawned it, it would make sense that there are traces of them left in the magic. And it could make perfect sense when it comes to convergence as the binding element in the spell. Like, we know Winx all have different elements but are able to pull off convergence seamlessly  because of the harmony in their feelings. The emotions could very well be acting like the common thing between the different sets of powers that ties them together to allow them all to flow towards the same goal and the spell to be completed. And since I have a headcanon that Griffin is pretty good at reading magical auras and we know that Valtor was literally carved from magic, it would make sense that the two of them would be able to read the emotional charge that a spell carries. I actually like to imagine it was Valtor that taught Griffin how to do that but she got even better than him at it with some practice because she is more in tune with her own emotions and has higher empathy. Also headcanon that they have done that with each other and it helped strengthen both their romantic relationship and their partnership. It was what made Valtor especially mad after she left because that was undeniable proof that she hadn’t been faking her feelings for him which he wanted to pretend was what happened so that it would hurt less. It’s not something anyone can fake.

I also like to think that Valtor taught Griffin a lot about magic and he did it in the way in which he understood and practiced magic. Aka he taught her a more instinctive approach to magic rather than the more academic and removed approach that the magical schools teach. Formal magical education looks at emotions as something that powers magic and thus has to be controlled because it can be dangerous. Magic itself is treated as a weapon or a servant to the magic user which to Valtor seems ridiculous since he is literally made of magic. He was magic before he was a person so for him the two are inseparable. It was exactly what he taught Griffin - that magic is not some tool you use whenever you need it. It is a part of you that you need to accept as equal to your other parts and your consciousness. If you do that, it unlocks a greater potential for power due to the closer connection you have established with your magic. It sort of has the magic user and the magic become one and it is hard to tell who is controlling what. It’s a more dangerous approach because instincts can take over and steer things in uncontrollable directions which is why it isn’t taught in magical schools. Griffin was bitter at first when she learned how much more there was to her magic that her education didn’t teach her about but the more she used the approach Valtor taught her, the more she realized why that was. And especially when she became headmistress of CT, she knew it would be irresponsible to teach young and inexperienced witches that kind of approach to magic. Still, she feels like she takes away from them by not teaching them about the full extent of their powers so she has been looking for ways to include more about getting in touch with one’s own inner feelings for better access to their magic in her lessons so that the witches can use more of their powers.

[orionsangel86]

Sam & Eileen - A Supernatural Romance.

I am quite clearly over the moon about 15x06 and Sam reunited with and bringing Eileen back from the dead. I was so over the moon in fact, that I burst into tears when Eileen stepped out of the bathtub and took Sam’s hand. That was… wow. 

That was the most romantic moment in this show since 13x05 “it’s never too late” (also a return from the dead!)

So I was inspired to write an homage meta post celebrating Sam and Eileen’s romance looking back at everything canon has given us on this epic pairing.

It turns out, despite all my usual grumbling, there is still one het ship out there that I can totally get behind, and no one deserves love more than our dear Sam Winchester.

11x04 - Baby

This is where I believe the story started for Sam. 

“You don’t ever want something more?”

(x)

“You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?”

This question, from Sam to his brother at the start of Season 11, has shaped so much of the subtext in the seasons following. It’s significance to the Winchesters individual development arcs, their hopes, their dreams. It blatantly spelled out for the audience what both these boys desire and what they deserve for each of their endgames.

Not a white picket fence, not the apple pie life, just something. Something that suits them. Something to share with someone else, romantically, who might fit that particular box. Let me be very clear here and stress that Sam certainly wasn’t talking about him and Dean finding that something with each other.

Dean’s journey towards finding that something has been building for even longer than this particular moment in canon, with the other stand out scene being his confession in 10x16 where he talked about having things, people, feelings, that I want to experience differently than before, or maybe even for the first time. Dean’s journey is something we have discussed at length, and as every meta writer in fandom knows all too well, it only leads in one particular direction - towards a certain dreamy blue eyed angel. 

Sam’s journey has not been discussed as intensely as Dean’s, but 11x04 did lay groundwork for the writers to build upon. It hasn’t been as smooth or as obvious in the subtext as Dean’s either, with certain writing decisions appearing to come out of left field and confuse the path. But it seems that Dabb has course corrected and brought us back on track. 

This episode was the first time in canon in a long time that we heard Sam textually voice his desire for a romantic relationship of some kind. I therefore immediately got excited and locked this moment away in a pocket in my heart to pull out again if ever the show would introduce a character who could fit those requirements for Sam. 

The show did not disappoint.

11x11 Into the Mystic

GOD I forgot how full of delicious layers this episode was! It was written by the same writer who wrote 11x04. Robbie Thompson clearly had something in mind for Sam when he first wrote that script, and he gave it to us (and Sam) in this episode.

Eileen is introduced in 11x11 as another Hunter on a quest for vengeance - to avenge her murdered family.

It isn’t a surprise that we basically immediately shipped Eileen with Sam after this episode first aired, because her entire backstory is written to compliment Sam. Within the first 5 minutes of getting to know her, she already fulfills the requirements from Sam’s wistful speech in 11x04. She is a hunter, she is someone who understands the life. But more than that, she is all of the following:

She is on a revenge quest

She has murdered parents

She was raised by a Hunter or rather “trained” to be a Hunter rather than raised (in a scene which implies a similarly strict hunter upbringing to Sam and Dean)

She continued hunting alone after her guardian died

Her grandfather was a Man of Letters, making her a MOL Legacy, just like Sam.

Her mother was a lawyer, so she makes a joke about studying law which prompts further bonding with Sam due to his Stanford law education.

Eileen catches Sam’s eye almost immediately, and it is surprising I didn’t pick up on that on my first watch at the time, but Eileen is literally disguised as the cleaner in order to go unnoticed. Sam had no reason to be suspicious of her, and I think at the time we all assumed that he just wanted to question a potential witness - but even so, there was no need to interrupt Mildred to go speak to her. Could Sam’s distraction have been a bit more than strictly professional? In hindsight I’m gonna go with YES.

Their next meet is cute simply because by this point the audience is misled to think that she is actually the banshee. The ominous music tones, the shots of Eileen watching the Winchesters from a window. We believe that she is the villain, and then when she uses magic to pin Sam and comes at him with a dagger it’s practically a romantic trope used in enemies to lovers fics. A case of mistaken identity (another trope) and Sam and Eileen are able to reveal each of their truths. They bond immediately with both Sam and the audience learning all of the above. the checklist requirements indicating their compatibility is so blatantly obvious its almost too on the nose. But then het romance always seems that way doesn’t it?

The real kicker in this episode that made my heart sing at the time was this:

“Feel free to drop me a line if you ever need anything. Or even if you just wanna hang out”

“you can’t call me though, I mean you could call but I won’t answer.”

(x)

FIRST OF ALL - HOW DARE YOU KILL ME WITH FEELS SAMMY OVER THAT GORGEOUS SMILE

Sam’s line here though was SUCH A LINE. “Or even if you just wanna hang out”

I see you Sam Winchester. Hoping for Netflix and Chill right? I know you have Netflix. You gave Cas your password. :P

This little interaction at the end of this episode was pure flirtation and it was gorgeous to watch (and to rewatch, with hindsight, knowing what happens in 15x06 to totally deepen their relationship. Urgh. I guess I really am a sucker for a good old fashioned Supernatural Love Story!)

The other big takeaway from this episode is that meeting Eileen rejuvenated Sam. He starts the episode unable to sleep, haunted by his Lucifer trauma and feeling so down and broody that Dean steps in constantly to ask if he’s okay and try to engage in talking about feelings (always a bad sign for a Winchester to get to the point where they feel they need to ask the other to talk about feelings!)

But the end of the episode marks a significant change in Sam. He smiles, he opens up to Dean, he textually states that the case helped him. He opens up a keepsake box (that we never knew he had before this episode) and puts the retirement homes leaflet in there - an indication that he actually has hope that he might live to see a happy retirement (a wonderful sign for someone who just 40 minutes ago was acting like a total nihilist.)

The case alone wasn’t some spectacular revelation, so what else could have possibly caused Sam’s change of heart? The answer is obvious. Eileen did. She acted like a beacon of light this episode for Sam, and in a perfect bookend to how the episode opened, Sam curls up in bed, turns off his light, and is able to sleep. It is only Dean who spends the night restless and haunted.

This was the first time that Eileen acted as a “win” for Sam just by meeting him.

Unfortunately, we don’t meet Eileen again until a whole season later in

12x17 - The British Invasion

This episode is a far cry away from 11x11′s layered genius. Messy, overly plot heavy, too many various character stories causing mental whiplash, too much focus on unnecessary side characters, LUCIFER existing in general, an unnecessary sex scene between Mary and Ketch (eww), a bloody death scene, and moments of utter stupidity from the lead characters.

In other words it’s a CLASSIC BUCKLEMING.

Do yourselves a favour and if you ARE planning on re-watching this episode, just skip to the parts with Dean, Sam and Eileen (the Dagon and Kelly stuff is relatively good as well - the rest is utter garbage).

Anyway, pushing aside my hatred for the terrible duo for a moment, I will say that as per usual, what they lack in subtlety and intelligent subtextual layering, they make up for with a sledge hammer to the face in terms of trying to get a point across. So when it comes to Saileen in this episode, well, it might as well be canon already.

Practically every time Sam and Eileen interact in this episode, they are framed as a flirtatious couple in the early tentative stages. The smiles and playful flirting, the smirks when one does something to make the other proud. It is very clear, even if it is still technically subtextual, that both Jared and Shoshannah are playing this like these characters are attracted to one another, and are building on that relationship.

Hell, even Dean teases Sam twice about Eileen in this episode (though once was in a deleted scene that they should have kept instead of the Lucifer crap):

(x)

What we also find out from this opening scene, is that Sam and Eileen have been communicating off screen since 11x11. It is textually confirmed that the two of them have been developing their relationship previously, and we just haven’t seen it. Did Eileen visit the Bunker previously? Because she certainly seemed comfortable there this episode. Have her and Sam cuddled up to watch movies previously? (We know another pairing that textually do this even though we’ve never seen it on screen - Dean and Cas). Dean feels comfortable enough to tease his little brother in that playful typical sibling way, so clearly Eileen at this point has become a more frequent character in Sam’s life. It’s just a shame we as the audience have never seen anything of it until this episode. 

This episode might be the first time we have seen her again since her introduction, but it certainly isn’t the first time Sam has seen her since. This is canon.

The rest of this episode continues this theme of displaying with zero subtlety that Sam and Eileen have something more than friendship. One of the easiest ways to truly see the effect of this is just watching Sam in scenes with her compared to Sam at any other time. Like in 11x11, Eileen manages to light Sam up and have him grinning like a puppydog. It’s kind of adorable and also quite shocking when you realise how rare it is to see Sam smile (or any of the characters in this angstfest of a TV show for that matter.)

Just look at the above cheesy smile in the car scene. Look at Sam’s bashful face here when Dean teases him in front of his girl:

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Look at this smug face when Eileen snaps back at the irritating guy:

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Jared hits every mark playing a loved up Sam Winchester. 

By the end of this episode, a tragedy strikes and Eileen is scared off. Their relationship here ends on a comforting hug, because meaningful relationships in this show are almost always first signified with comforting hugs following traumatic events, and tentative hand holding.

The way he strokes her hair gently is just SO touching and intimate.

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When all is said and done Eileen leaves, terrified of the British Men of Letters. When Dean asks Sam where she was, he tells him she went back to Ireland, and Sam looks so dejected at that thought. I don’t see how anyone can possibly read his reactions towards Eileen as anything other than romantic affection.

As a bonus point - I will mention that due to Bucklemings sledgehammer approach, it is quite clear that Eileen plays a Cas mirror in this episode. All of her scenes with Sam are paired off against Dean who spends this entire episode trying and failing to get hold of Castiel. In the Winchester’s final scene, Sam greets Dean in the morning and immediately asks his brother about Cas. Sam does this a lot in season 12, because Dean’s concern for Cas is present throughout every episode in which he is absent. Dean admits he is worried, but changes the subject, instead asking Sam about Eileen (note that it is the next morning so Dean assumed she had stayed the night).

Both brothers revert to the other when it comes to their respective partners. Sam leaves it up to Dean to contact and worry about Cas, and Dean does the same with Sam about Eileen. By this being a common pattern throughout pretty much all of Carver/Dabb eras, both brothers subtextually acknowledge that they each have a strong emotional connection with their respective potential romantic partners and therefore any contact or communication about each partner must come from the brother closest. 

12x21 - There’s Something About Mary

Another Buckleming episode and the less said about this one the better. I won’t even mention the extremely insulting and inappropriate way to kill off a disabled character (almost as bad as killing off a lesbian by having nazis butcher her) I also won’t comment on the letter that Eileen sent Sam which whilst it did have romantic undertones, was clearly written by a 12 year old girl and did not marry with Eileen’s character at all (Eugenie showing her misogyny again).

The one good thing that came out of this episode (the only good thing) was Jared’s understated grief over Eileen’s death. 

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His performance dealing with her death in this episode was beautiful. It was understated, but clearly portrayed as heartbreaking. Unfortunately Sam had to push it down and bottle it up. 

Eileen’s death was a huge shocker to us all as it didn’t make any sense at that point to cut short a story that seemed so clearly to be on a specific trajectory. We often talk about how Eileen’s romance with Sam at the time was tied to Dean and Cas, and that their relationship paralleled Dean and Cas’s in the narrative. This is all true, especially the death of Eileen coming as foreshadowing for the death of Castiel at series end. Just looking at that above gif of Sam where he looks at her corpse bears an extreme resemblance to Dean pulling back the sheet and looking down at a dead Castiel in 13x01.

However much I squee and love that these relationships are clear mirrors of each other though, I need to stress how Saileen, how Sam and Eileen’s canon relationship, is so much more than that. They may have mirrored Destiel, but they are also totally different, on a different course, and with a totally different backstory. Eileen doesn’t exist just to give Sam his own version of Cas to run off with. She is not there just to push up a separate ship. Sam and Eileen’s romance stands alone in this story. It may mirror DeanCas at times, but its purpose is not for DeanCas. It’s purpose is for Sam and Eileen. 

Right from the start she ticked all of Sam’s boxes, and the clear attraction between them made it obvious. Yet Eileen was not written to just be a love interest either. She is an ally, a capable hunter, who is written deeply, with her own trauma’s and tragic past. Yet she keeps fighting, all whilst owning her disability and making it work for her rather than hold her back. She is hardly a Lisa, or an Amelia, both of whom had zero depth of character and were more or less written to look pretty and concerned as the Winchester boys basically treated them terribly. Eileen stands out as an individual character far beyond her relationship with Sam. She was full of potential which is why her quick death was an absolute travesty. 

Eileen should not have been killed off. I believe even the writers are well aware of that, and this is why they brought her back. 

Which brings me to:

15x06 - Golden Time

We knew long before this episode aired that Eileen would be back as Dabb revealed her return at SDCC. He made comments at the time ensuring that any characters he brought back would not be fanservice, that they would be characters chosen because the writers felt their stories ended too quickly, and that they had more stories to tell. Something I believe that DabbBerens are doing in particular in this season is righting the wrongs of the past. Eileen’s death was a clear “wrong” and I think its highly likely that DabbBerens’ were aware of this and saw Eileen as a no-brainer to bring back. As I said at the start of this post, Dabb is course correcting, getting his endgame plans back on track, and ensuring that he hits certain markers in order to do that. 

Once again, we are at a place in the story where Sam is grieving, and suffering deeply from all of the loss and trauma that he has faced. Being God’s personal puppet, losing his mother, losing his son, and losing someone he was close to in Rowena by his own hand, has left him in a dark place. Sam’s arc in early season 15 plays out very similarly to Dean’s arc in early season 13. A Winchester in desperate need of a win.

Eileen was Sam’s win in this episode.

Given the time that has passed since Eileen’s last episode, and how the narrative has progressed since then, I was worried that Eileen’s return would seem like fan service, and would therefore fall flat (I felt this way with AU!Charlie and never warmed to the character because of it). I was also worried that whatever potential relationship might have been building between her and Sam in seasons 11 and 12 might not have shone through in this episode. But thankfully the writers played it pretty damn perfectly and Eileen’s return wasn’t just a small side plot to an otherwise jam packed episode (like Kevin’s return in 15x02). No, her story was the A plot as Sam devoted himself to finding a way to save her from a terrible fate.

My concerns about their potential romantic relationship not being played as it was in 12x17 were also completely unfounded. From the moment Sam saw Eileen’s ghost whilst on a jog the romance was immediately back and I have no doubt that Jared and Shoshannah are once again fully playing up the connection and romantic attraction between the two. 

I am so convinced of the romance being put across here, and I want you to see why I adore this so much (in case you don’t already see it). So here are my biggest and most important takeaways from Eileen and Sam’s scenes in this episode and WHY I feel these stand out as significant elements towards proving the writers intentions for this to be an endgame canon relationship:

1. Aside from the obvious similarities between Sam and Eileen that were written into 11x11 in order to ensure that Eileen was able to stand as Sam’s equal, the one other thing that we have long discussed that Sam needs in a partner is someone who at least somewhat understands the trauma and pain that he has experienced in his life. Sam has predominantly bonded with people via shared trauma. Before her death, Eileen had had her fair share of traumatic experiences growing up in the tough hunter lifestyle, but spending an eternity being tortured in Hell is a different level of trauma entirely.

This episode cleverly once again elevated Eileen to the same level as Sam. They are equals now, both through good and bad experiences. Eileen was dragged to Hell, and only escaped when Chuck released the souls. Given that 1 year on Earth is 100 years in Hell, this means that Eileen was in Hell for 250 years give or take. Her trauma, her pain over this, is something that she can’t talk about just yet, but this significant connection between her and Sam was textualised clearly:

SAM: “I’ve been there too. Hell… long time ago. You try and forget but it gets inside you. Talking helps.”

EILEEN: “I can’t. not yet.”

SAM: “I understand”

And he really does. It is something that we can argue is a shared suffering that can create a (forgive me for this) profound bond between two people. The only other people who can understand just what he has been through were Dean (via years of Hell torture), Cas (via shared Lucifer possession), and Rowena (via shared Lucifer torture). Eileen now makes that very small list.

2. The other big factor that this episode made clear to point out textually was that this is not a Chuck manipulation. This really is Eileen, and her return from death is not part of Chuck’s story: 

SAM: “Rowena got it, she didn’t know the details but she knew the game was rigged so this. Magic. This is how she kept control.”

The reason I do not believe that Eileen is part of Chuck’s manipulations is this very pointed line right here about Rowena. Along with many other things in this episode that indicate that it isn’t guided by Chuck, Sam specifically clarifies that Rowena used magic to maintain control over her own universe.

Whilst I fully believe that Rowena will be coming back as Queen of Hell (because whatever happens to Heaven and Hell at the end, they will need balance, and someone to play caretaker and Rowena has just been set up for this role far too perfectly for me not to at least consider the option), this episode so beautifully respects and honours her character, to the point that Rowena, even in her absence, is able to control and play architect to all that happens. Rowena effectively is given Chuck’s role over this particular narrative, but instead of being framed as something villainous, it is portrayed as a precious gift that she has given to her protege Sam.

Rowena rigged the system for herself, as Sam textually explains. Her use of magic, was her way of escaping Chuck’s control, and it is through Rowena that Sam is also given this power. The power to bring back someone he loves - who was most likely taken from him by Chuck’s own dark and poorly written story (yes I do believe that Meredith was throwing shade at Buckleming in the deep subtext - pretty much all the other writers do this all the time if you pay close enough attention :P)

Rowena’s journey from villain, to reluctant ally, to friend and then finally to family, is one of the most beautiful and epic journey’s on the show (rivalled only by Castiel in my opinion). She remains one of my all time favourite characters, and her tribute in this episode, that even after death she could bestow such a precious gift to Sam, is one that I think will remain one of the more touching stories this show has given us. This is yet another reason why I believe that Sam and Eileen are endgame. Because it is a gift from Rowena, and I believe it is a gift that will be honoured by the writers.

3. It’s a small moment, but it is IMPORTANT. Sam confirms that he was teaching himself ASL after he met Eileen. In a moment of adorable flirtation Eileen beams at him and a bashful Sam smiles and bounces on the spot like a giddy schoolboy. This is yet another reveal of moments in the lives of the Winchesters that we just don’t see in 40 minute episodes. That it is canon that Sam spent hours of his life teaching himself ASL so he could more effectively communicate with Eileen is so precious. There is no way to argue how much she meant to him. 

But it isn’t just evidence of Sam’s affections, it proves to be a useful tool to the hunt in this episode as well. When Sam is unable to speak due to the witches curse, he is instead able to sign “My brother” to Eileen so that she knows to go and get Dean. It is Sam’s knowledge of sign language, which he learned due to his affection and interest in Eileen, that saves his life in this episode. 

One point that I HAVE to mention here is how the writers gave so much thought to their depiction of Eileen as a deaf person, and how wonderful her return is as representation for deaf and hard of hearing people everywhere. In both this episode, and also in her first episode 11x11, her disability was not treated as a set back, but as a tool that enables her to get ahead. The only time the writing displayed an insulting and frankly ableist light was Bucklemings 12x21 which isn’t really surprising. We expect such things from Buckleming. The other writers have proven how much more compassionate and caring they are.

The idea that Sam Winchester could end up falling in love with a beautiful, deaf woman in Eileen is practically unheard of in TV media. When do the protagonists ever end up with anyone less than “TV perfect”? It is groundbreaking that Supernatural in it’s 15 seasons has grown so much and come so far. That it started with the fridging of two women, that it’s cast remained predominantly white men throughout its entire run, that it was blackened by excessive misogyny in its early days, as well as ableism via the treatment of Bobby Singer’s paralysis in season 5. 

Supernatural has faced heavy criticism throughout it’s run, but it seems like the writers have listened and are learning. By allowing Sam and Eileen to have a happy endgame, they are doing a wonderful service in truly putting this show on the map for progression and representation - They just need to make sure that they follow through on that other big important thing too…

4. Rebirth and new beginnings. I am reminded of 13x05 and the brilliant Steppenwolf song “It’s Never Too Late To Start Again” as I rewatch the bathroom scene for the hundredth time. If the rest of the episode hasn’t already had you crying out how desperately these two should be together I fully believe it was Meredith’s plan (along with the entire production crew and Shoshannah and Jared), to have us all bawling our eyes out in happy tears that Sam and Eileen get to be together now!! (well, I certainly cried. A lot. and ruined my mascara. and squeaked at such a high pitch only dogs could hear me. The only other time I have had that reaction was in 13x05… oh, and 12x19. It’s RARE okay!)

I think the most significant point here is the touching of hands, which calls back to an earlier painful moment in the episode when ghost Eileen reached out to try to comfort Sam as he despaired about being a cosmic joke, and found she wasn’t even able to touch him. 

It is a romantic trope that was most famously used in the film Ghost, where touch was a big part of the on screen relationship. Supernatural displays this same trope rather perfectly here when the big win of the episode takes place, and Eileen emerges from the bathtub alive and whole, and tentatively reaches out to take Sam’s hand again with vastly different results.

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Sam is so hesitant to touch her back, so fearful that this isn’t real, that he isn’t being allowed this. The overwhelming sense of relief and warmth that radiates from him when he finally does take her hand was exactly what made me burst into tears. The moment is so extremely breathtaking, so intimate and touching that your heart just aches for them to have that happy ending. It’s rare that Supernatural gives us moments like this, but when it does give them, when it allows its characters a win, they are immediately memorable and stand out as bright spots in an otherwise dark show. It’s moments like this that make watching these characters suffer so much worth it in the end.

The hug that comes after the touching of hands is just as intimate. This is portrayed as a lifeline. Something for Sam to grasp onto and breath. Something that inspires him to change his outlook, to gather his determination, and to convince his brother to join him and fight for the happy ending that both of these boys so desperately deserve.

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The entire bathroom scene was a testament to how well Supernatural can work romance into its narrative. How these talented creators can easily provide us with a romantic scene to tug on our heart strings. Anyone screaming that romance doesn’t belong in this show I will now point at this scene and tell them exactly how wrong they are. This scene is EXACTLY what this show needed. 

For anyone denying the romance here (yeah funny how the bronly’s are so anti Saileen - I wonder why...) I’ll spell it out for them:

This is how you set up a romantic scene in TV Production:

1. Candlelight. Check.

2. Soft focus (dates back to the 1930s when films would use soft focus to portray the dreamy emotional uplift of happy couples in love - see Meet Me In Saint Louis for a very clear example). It is almost always considered a filming technique to portray romance. Check.

3. Chivalry. As if any of us didn’t expect Sam to be a perfect gentleman! But the fact is that the way he turns his back and waits with bated breath to see if the spell had worked is shown as anything other than platonic. He is almost shy, knowing that if and when she emerges from the water she will be naked, but he turns to preserve her dignity. Check.

4. Leading on from that, this is literally a naked woman emerging from a bathtub whilst Sam awkwardly stands in the room. It could have been highly sexualised. They could have used that god awful 70s porno music they like so much in this show. Sam could have made a joke to dispel the tension. If this was a platonic friendship, any of these things would have given it away. The fact that none of this happened, that the scene remained tense and intimate but not overly sexualised only further validates the romantic reading. I mean LOOK AT THIS:

CHECK

5. The music. Music is such an important part in any story. It always plays a vital role in signifying the correct atmosphere, and the correct tone of a scene. We talk about music a lot in relation to Dean and Cas and the sweeping melodic notes that usually compliment any heightened emotional DeanCas scene. The music during THIS scene though? Well it was beautifully romantic in every way. If in doubt, just go back and listen to it with your eyes closed. Play this music track over another random scene of two people sharing a moment, and it will make the scene read as romantic. I guarantee it. 

CHECK AND MATE.

Overall, this episode was the most romantic and most intimate Sam and Eileen have ever got yet in canon. It is a clear indication that their relationship is heading in a positive direction. I couldn’t be happier with how the writers are portraying this and am jumping for joy at the thought that Sam might actually get what he desired all those years ago during 11x04 when he tried to bring up the topic to Dean in the Impala.

We know from promo photos, that Eileen is still staying with Sam in 15x07. That she comforts him. With images like this to go on:

I’d say with some confidence that we will get to further watch their relationship grow, and I couldn’t be more excited for it.

I fully expect there to be darker moments coming up, and potentially Eileen will be sent away for a period of time (my money is on Chuck “dusting” her the way he did with Becky in 15x04 because I don’t believe that kills people and I do believe that they can be brought back from wherever he sends them too - plus “dusting” makes me think of Avengers Endgame which I find amusing because the “dusted” all returned at the end. I wouldn’t be surprised if Supernatural played around with that as it so often likes to play with pop culture references). I think that post Mid Season Finale we will be back to a period of utter loss and despair for the Winchester boys, and that therefore those who they feel strongly for (aka Cas and Eileen) will have to be separated from them.

However, the point is that it is always darkest before the dawn. In this story, 15x06 has laid the groundwork for Eileen to be Sam’s romantic endgame. It’s now up to Sam, and Eileen, to make sure they fight to get what they both so desire.

Bring on the finale show.

(If you liked this meta run through of Sam and Eileen’s building relationship, please leave a comment for me. It took forever to complete! Also, please click the links under the gifs and go give the gifmakers some love! The gifsets I have used are all wonderful and deserve your reblogs. (Gifs that don’t have links are my own)).

:)

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 4

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: All I can do is apologise for the wait for this one!  My mind was a mess - Ch 4 became Ch 5 so then I had to write Ch 4 and just...ug...well, you know.  I hope this isn’t too much for you all to take.  Cold towels are being provided.  I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo​ for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds​ @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ and @effulgentcolors​ for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Killian absentmindedly watched a patch of light on the ceiling of Emma’s bedroom, the silver oval shape fixed to the spot above them. It illuminated a blemish on the plastering of the ceiling that made Killian wonder if Emma’s apartment wasn’t some sort of metaphor for her life, the daytime showing the grandeur and superfluous life she led at Graham’s behest, and the innocently pale moonlight highlighting the rot in the darkness of her marriage. In truth, the fact that Emma made no secret of her distaste at her marriage just spurred Killian on to hold her tighter.

Killian wasn’t even sure if Emma felt the same, but what he was sure of, was, that for the last few hours she had been chatting, her fingers idling in the soft curls of his chest hair, sometimes slipping beneath the sheet at his waist in exploration of what was at the end of the line of hair there, he would listen to her forever. He couldn’t make head nor tail of his emotions, not only for the simple fact that Emma was a Beta, but also because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling she was something more.

Will had warned him about this, and maybe it was because Killian had never fucked anything outside of his toys when he wasn’t in a relationship. He might be an Alpha, but Killian was also a man of honour. Will might like to fuck everything that moves but Killian was more interested in finding that special someone who would complete both his heart and his soul, ultimately a mate who would know him better than he knew himself. Of course, it was absurd to think Emma could be that person, but she was addictive and he never wanted to be hooked on anyone else.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Emma asked softly as she rolled in Killian’s arms until she was on her stomach. He raised his arm a little to accommodate her in his hold, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips when he ran dragged them over the ridges of her spine.

“What do you mean, love?” Killian asked her innocently. “You know why I came.”

“Yeah, but,” Emma began, her fingers combing through the hairs on his chest. “I mean,” she stammered shyly.

“You mean, I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow?” Killian offered with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well that’s good to know,” Killian smiled proudly, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder. “I’d hate to think I wasn’t doing my utmost to thoroughly please you.”

“Mmm,” Emma hummed with a daydream smile but that faded as quickly as his words had sunk in.

She had waited her entire life for someone like Killian to come along and sweep her off her feet. Alpha or not, she was sure they had some sort of connection. There had never been an opportunity for her to date as she grew up, and because of her illness, a lot of the time she was unable to attend the many social events that the Humbert's so graciously invited her to. Maybe it was why she had so eagerly agreed to marry Graham when he had proposed to her, knowing she had no other choice.

Maybe it was why, for the first time in her life, right now, in Killian’s arms, she felt like she had a choice.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed her from her reverie with the soft lilt of his groggy post-sex voice. He brushed the smooth pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth until she looked at him, her cheeks prickling with pink as she offered him a small smile. “That’s better,” he smiled back before leaning towards her and pressing his lips to hers.

Immediately, Killian felt Emma’s smile widen and when he felt the softness of her palm against his cheek as she cupped his face, he kissed her harder. Emma giggled against his lips, a giddy, jovial sound that had Killian rearranging himself until he was towering over her, never breaking the kiss as he caged her in his embrace. Emma clutched the side of his face, pulling him down with her when she fell back into the softness of the pillows, spreading her legs wide to accommodate his bulk when he settled into the apex of her thighs.

Emma was the first one to part her lips and tease the seam of Killian’s with her tongue, gently lapping at his smirk until he opened up his mouth and let her in with a manly chuckle. Her hands left his face and danced down his shoulders, traced the outline of his ribs, and smoothed over the curve of his abdomen until her fingers tickled at the hair there. Killian sucked in a breath, pulling his lips from hers and fixing Emma with a raised eyebrow stare.

“Again?” Killian said darkly.

Emma bit her bottom lip and writhed, scooting down the bed until the wetness between her thighs was level with Killian’s hips and she knew he could feel the heat from her. The slowly hardening girth of him bobbed up when he clenched his muscles and barely brushed her sex, making her gasp all the same. Emma cast her eyes down between them, focusing on the one thing between them that might end her ever aching need for something she couldn’t explain but knew only Killian could fix.

“Alright,” he smirked, his voice soft yet firm. “But first you must do something for me.”

“Anything, Alpha” Emma breathed, not even realising the sort of effect her words could have on an Alpha.

For a second Killian was thrown. He was only going to ask her to get him going, but the second she had obeyed, whether she meant to or not, he was rock solid in seconds. Logically, he knew that Emma was not an Omega, but he couldn’t help but dream for a second. She wasn’t some Beta who had a scumbag husband that treated her like shit. She was more than precious, everything, the personification of happiness and love. She was an Omega, begging, pleading, wanting him to please her just as much as she eagerly pleased in return.

She was his.

“Killian?” Emma began sheepishly, touching her open hand to the side of his cheek.

It shook him from his thoughts just long enough for him to realise that her smile had faded and a real look of concern was plastered all over her face. Her eyes had dulled, the lust now gone and the darkness of worry having crept into its place. It took him a second of listening to the thumping of his own blood in his ears to realise that he had frozen, poised above her with his length pressed to her slightly damp sex and a stupified look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Emma blushed, a heat creeping down her neck and across the top of her chest. “Did I-?”

“No, love, you could never,” he assured her quickly. His hands found her face, brushing some stray strands of her golden locks from her brow, his heartbreaking from the look in her eyes.

“Then what is it?” Emma said shyly, a blush pinking her cheeks at his compliment. “Talk to me.”

How could he? How was he supposed to explain to a Beta just how he was feeling? Emma would have no idea. Alpha’s were not supposed to be like this, cradled in the arms of a woman who was paying him to please her. Correction. Her husband was paying him, and the mere thought of the ungrateful swine made Killian’s blood boil in his veins. Emma was sweet, and worth so much more than what Graham could ever offer her, physically and emotionally, but Killian couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

“It’s nothing,” Killian said sweetly. His hand stilled on her cheek, cradling the shape of her face in his palm, thumbing the edge of her pretty lips until he saw her smile. “I swear it,” he added and had never meant anything so much in his entire life.

“Oh,” Emma sighed, but before she could continue, Killian was reassuring her again.

“It’s just, you don’t have to say those things with me.” He swallowed hard, a warmth spreading up his spine. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her if that was what she wanted, but she had never mentioned it before now without his prompting, something he had thought she wanted during their encounters, so he could only assume she thought that was what he wanted to hear. “Call me Alpha, I mean.”

“Are you not an Alpha?” Emma teased, canting her hips against his length again.

“Aye, love,” he laughed timidly, shifting his hips away from her advances. “But this whole arrangement is about making you feel good, not me.”

“And does me calling you Alpha make you feel good?” Her smile was too much and he was sure that by the way he was blushing, she already knew the answer. “It does, doesn’t it?” Emma pried, letting her hands dance over the soft jut of his hips. “Calling you Alpha has you all hot and bothered for real, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not supposed to,” Killian told her with a quirk of his brow and a scratch behind his ear.

That had Emma intrigued and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, repositioning herself against the pillows and letting Killian roll off to her side.

“What does that mean?” She asked with a tilt of her head. Emma watched as Killian settled on his side, resting his head on his hand and giving her a confident smile. “What?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him but all she got back was his beautiful, cheeky grin. “Tell me!”

She giggled, sitting up so she could push feebly against his shoulder before tumbling down on top of him.

“Love, there is something you should know about Alphas like me, for hire, I mean.” Killian sucked in a breath, stroking some hairs from her face.“We aren’t...We aren’t supposed to have feelings for our clients.” Killian licked his lips and nervously avoided her gaze, the spread of warmth over his cheeks probably as obvious as it felt.

“Killian, what are you saying?” Emma teased, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“I don’t know exactly,” Killian shrugged with a chuckle, his whole body rumbling and making the bed bounce. His hand found her skin, attracted like a magnet, and he dragged the tip of his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that since I first laid eyes on you I have felt things, things I am bloody well sure no Alpha has ever felt for a beta before.”

Emma frowned, her brows pulling together, and she pushed herself up to mirror Killian’s pose. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he began, trying to not look at her exposed breasts. Emma had no qualms about being naked around him, and he found it ever so endearing that she felt so comfortable when he was around. “Alphas are not exactly complicated, we rut, we fuck, and we are inherently attracted to that one person that we want to protect, above all else, and we will do anything in our power to keep them safe. “ Killian met her gaze once more, the blue of his eyes shining in the darkness. “Emma, I’ve known Alphas to die protecting that person.”

Emma’s throat went dry and she struggled to swallow. All of the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, not in a panic response, but instead, arousal. Want. Need. “Why are you telling me this?” she uttered, unable to stop her free hand from resting comfortably on Killian’s chest where her fingers gently stroked the hair there.

“I don’t know that either.” Killian shook his head. He was so confused and flattened his hand over hers, pinning hers to his chest where his heart thumped a steady rhythm against her fingertips. “Maybe I figured you could help me work out what I’m feeling.”

Killian offered her a small smile, warm and welcoming, a silent plea to her to aid him in deciphering his heart. It was all he wanted, really, for Emma to accept him and the love he knew he already felt for her, obstacles be damned. Here she was, glorious and glowing, like a naked angel in bed next to him who could end him, right where he lay, and he would willingly let her. If only their lives were not so complicated.

“Killian Jones, you don’t know a lot, do you?” Emma’s voice shook him from his daydream and he copied the grin that was plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, love, it doesn’t seem that I do.” Killian flopped down onto the bed, sinking into the pillows with a huff. The only word he could use to describe his current predicament was conflict, between his head and his heart. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted Emma like no other, and he would willingly give up ever finding an Omega mate just to be with her. There was a connection there, he knew it deep down in his soul, and had tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest whenever she was near. Emma slipped further under the thin sheet that covered them and moved to straddle his waist with a groan of content that he was sure was involuntary because he had heard it before, but was like music to his Alpha ears nonetheless. Her hands found his face, lightly pawing over the scruff of his cheeks as she tenderly kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Well, what do you know?” Emma purred, the lobe of his ear catching on the skin between her fingers. Her mouth soon followed and through her smirk, she began nibbling his ear.

“Honestly?” Killian gulped with his eyes pinched closed, hating himself for grabbing her hand and halting her torturous assault. Emma stopped, easing herself up off his chest and sitting back, her heels tucked under her bare ass as her feet rested across his thighs, her nails clawing at the hair on his stomach because she couldn’t get enough of how soft they felt. The half hurt look she gave him made his chest tighten, but he needed her to focus on his words. “I know I want to keep you safe, more than anything,” Killian said earnestly, pushing his weight up after her until they were face to face and he was cupping her head in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks in unison and he held her tightly to ensure she not only heard his next words but felt them too. “I know that no man deserves you, least of all him.”

Killian’s heart stopped when he heard her hold her breath and a lump caught in his throat. He’d gone too far, exposed too much, been too fucking Alpha, wearing his heart out on his sleeves, and now he’d be back to just being her fuck toy that her husband was paying for. The idea stung more than anything he had ever experienced. Panic settled in his entire being, running so deep that even the beds of his fingernails itched when Emma looked away, casting her eyes downward.

“He’s my husband, Killian,” she murmured, her voice laced with sadness but her hands clutched his and held them to her face in a silent plea to never let go.

Killian felt her sorrow, he really did. It oozed from her every pore, every muscle tense and yet yearning for the release of his touch at the same time. She was caught up between the man she was obligated to be with and the man she was with right now, and the pain and torment were evident, radiating from her very being. Emma didn’t even have to say it; Killian knew exactly how she felt.

“I know, and I’m sorry, love, but he is so unworthy of you.” Killian's voice cracked a little, his words fighting to escape passed the lump that had formed in his throat. He rolled his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhaled her scent, the musk of sex and release all over her body, put there by his lips when he had worshipped her body with his kisses after they had fucked earlier that evening. She was more than she had been led to believe, more than she had ever known, but telling her constantly circled back to her husband and Killian hated himself for making her remember her sadness.

“What makes you think I am worth anything?” Emma whimpered, small and meek, her words nothing but a breath against his lips.

Killian felt her shudder when he trailed his hands down the column of her neck, brushing the hair that sat lazily there over the curve of her shoulder, his lips soon following to kiss her over where her pulse was quickening under the skin there. He inhaled her again, taking in every level of fragrant note that her body was offering up, and he couldn’t help but scrape his nails over the bumps of her spine as he held her, his hungry mouth impossibly wishing he was about to mark her as his. “Emma,” Killian chuckled in disbelief, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips and catching the taste of her salt sheened skin in the process. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I can’t help but wish our paths had crossed before now.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head as he kissed her, her fingers plunging into his already sex messed hair and forcing his lips to sear her skin again. “Maybe in another life?” She panted, the hope evident in her voice that was also laced with regret.

“And why not this one?” Killian offered and Emma’s head snapped up, eyes wide with something Killian couldn’t quite recognise, a mixture of anguish and yearning balancing on the edge of anger. She wanted it too but was just as confused as to the logistics as Killian was. “Love, I don’t mean to sound crass, but your husband is away from you for over eighteen hours a day and I, for one, would despair if you were out of my sight for even a second.”

Emma’s face paled and Killian felt her flesh ripple with goosebumps under his hold. For a second he wasn’t sure if he had gone too far and suggested the ultimate betrayal in Emma’s eyes, or offered her the reason she has longed to hear. The reason to finally be free of the corruption that came with being a Humbert’s wife and live her life with whoever she wanted. The conflict was plastered all over her face and Killian’s heart twinged with remorse.

“I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have-,” Killian began in apology but he was taken by surprise when Emma pulled his head upwards and pressed her finger to his lips, sealing them shut.

“Shut up, Killian,” she snapped, but her voice wasn’t filled with anything except sultry darkness that made Killian hard again. She let him rest his face in her hands and offered him a coy smirk, their eyes locked once more, blue turning grey when Killian saw the lust behind Emma’s before she let her hands slip to his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shut up and fuck me,” she demanded, wiggling her hips over his solid length, rolling her bottom lip under her toothy grin. “Fuck me like you want to.”

Killian thought he was going to pop his knot. Her words were so erotic, so unlike the manipulative woman he had been lead to believe Emma was, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed her demand. There was a blur in time, between where they were and where they ended up, where Emma had fallen forward onto the bed and Killian had crawled up over her back like a rabid animal. She squealed in excitement, clenching her buttocks and burying her face in the pillow that had been, somewhere in the exchange, slung to where she lay. Killian had her pinned, his powerful thighs on either side of her hips and his hands kneading slow, deliberate circles into the middle of her back.

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” he growled, fingers flexing around her ribcage. He leaned down and kissed her spine, pecking his lips to her skin between each ridge until he reached her shoulder blades and carefully moved her hair aside with a swipe of his hand.

“Why?” Emma breathed dumbly, trying to writhe beneath him, her hand finding his thigh beside her hip and clutching it, desperate to feel any part of him on her skin.

Killian nuzzled his nose behind her ear, the sound he made as he let out a husky laughing sound making her entire body vibrate with anticipation. His lips skimmed over the shell of her ear and he planted a hand to each side of her head, towering over her, mindful not to suffocate her with his entire weight. Emma he let out a moan and he smirked, open mouthed and wide against the side of her cheek, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Because, love, I’ve wanted to fuck you the way I want since the moment I first saw you,” Killian began, balancing his weight on one arm so he could stroke his knuckles down the side of her neck, right over the spot where she would have a scent gland if she were an Omega. He ground his engorged cock into the crease of her arse with clenched teeth, eyes cast down between them to watch, imagining her begging for his knot because she was so desperate to come that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“So?” Emma challenged, wiggling her restricted hips until she felt her cheeks slapping his cock and Killian groan.

Killian held her hips still, his fingernails digging into her flesh. “The contract-,”

“Fuck the contract,” Emma scoffed. “In fact,” she declared, rolling over underneath him. “Let’s break it. What’s stopping you fucking me the way you want?”

Killian’s lips ticked up into a wry smile. “It specifically states that I am not allowed to come inside of you.”

“Oh,” Emma sighed with a blush.

“Something I would sell my soul to do,” he said darkly, rearranging himself so he was between her legs. Emma spread them wider to accommodate him, his length scorching a hot line into the inside of her thigh and his tip begging for entrance between her folds when he settled over her once more. “Something that means I’d have to knot you,” he continued, reaching between them and stroking his fingers through her folds, his lips millimetres from hers when he felt her gasp and suck all the air between them into her lungs. “Something I think you would like very much.”

Before she had time to form a reply, Killian’s lips were on hers and he was delivering a crushing kiss that made her see even more stars than she already was. He had a way of leaving her dazed with just his words and she couldn’t get enough, even hearing his voice in her head when they were apart. Emma parted her lips to allow his tongue inside where it duelled with her own, his neck muscles strained under her fingers when she clawed his skin in her eagerness to get more of him. Nothing else mattered. He was all she wanted, so when he broke the kiss and left his mark lingering against her lips, she whimpered in protest.

“Emma, can I knot you?” Killian ground out, canting his hips until the tip of him slipped inside of her.

Emma bit her bottom lip and nodded her reply.

“It might hurt,” Killian warned her, angling his hips again so that more of his erection was inside her.

Emma felt her body sizzle with heat and angeled her own hips so he was even deeper inside of her, relishing in the burn that came with his girth, her hand gripping his bicep through the welcomed pain. “It’d fucking better,” she ground out in frustration.

Killian smirked, watching her face contort with every inch of him that slid inside of her. There were not many people who could take an Alpha’s cock, not all of it anyway, but there were some, like Emma, who would revel in the pain, and he loved watching them take him in. No one though had taken quite so much as Emma. She was made differently it seemed, needed him it seemed, perfectly accommodating his girth and his length, getting wetter as he pushed his way in.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, love?” Killian grinned wickedly, letting himself relax a little now that he was half way in. As much as he enjoyed being as close to Emma’s face as possible whilst she took him in, he knew that she was nearing her Beta threshold for him at this angle. Her body could only take so much, so after he saw her tell, when her brows knitted together in just such a way, he sat back, skimming his hands down her legs as he did.

The sound Emma made was intoxicating, her small nod his only answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure she had even heard him speak at first, but when he settled himself back on his heels and slipped from her core, she whined with the loss of him.

“What...what’s wrong?” Emma breathed, already halfway gone. Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on the Alpha between her legs.

Killian let his head roll to one side, lazily stroking his length that sat proudly in his hand. “Nothing,” he assured her with a smirk. “You just need a moment.”

“I didn’t earlier,” she winked, biting her finger coyly.

“You didn’t want my knot earlier,” Killian reminded her with a raised brow.

Emma sat up, shuffling back on the bed. “Hmm,” she hummed. Her foot found his leg, tracing a line up the inside of his thigh until she found the apex, the heel of it resting against his balls and her toes curling against his cock. "So, what your saying is there is more of you?" She bit her lip, kneading his length with her foot. "You have more to give?"

Her eyes were practically wide with glee at the mere thought of getting any more of the man in front of her. Of the Alpha. Killian knew she was trying to flatter him, and her foot tickling his cock didn't help him stay focused on the task at hand, which was making sure Emma fully understood what it meant to take all of him. He had met plenty of Beta women who thought they would be the one to take the whole Alpha cock, and he knew just as many, if not more Alphas who would boast about splitting a Beta wide open with their girth.

Killian moved his hand to her foot, halting her assault on his genitals, a move that offered him a pout from the blonde beauty before him. "What I'm saying, is, I've never given you all of me before."

"Selfish, Mr. Jones," Emma chided playfully.

"I'm not joking when I say it will hurt you, Emma, and that's the last thing I want." Killian watched the energy burn out from behind her eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth over the same patch of skin on her ankle in silent apology.

"You could never hurt me," Emma told him softly, a small smile accompanying her words. They were real, her flirtatiousness simmering just below the surface for now, and she gave him a small nod of agreement. "I know you, Killian, and you're a good man. What was it you told me the first time we did this?"

Killian frowned, confusion covering his face, so Emma out him out of his misery.

"You told me that the best thing to minimise my pain was an orgasm, and fuck, Killian, if you didn't make sure I was, how did you put it? 'Nice and wet', I think, were your words."

"You remember that?"

"Cringey, I know, but they were not a lie." Emma smiled at him, that genuine smile that he already knew she reserved just for him. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in all my life."

Killian gave her a wicked, sly grin, and tugged her leg, hard a fast, until she was sliding down the pillows and back into her original position with him between her legs. He gave his wrist a quick flick, pumping his length back into hardness at the sight of her legs falling open, the scent of her setting off his saliva glands and making him swallow hard.

"Would the lady like a repeat performance?" Killian growled, sliding his fingers through her folds to collect some of her nectar there.

It glistened on his fingers as he smeared it up and over her clit, the nerve hub screaming out when the cool air of the room hit it's scolding temperature. Emma craned her neck to see what he was doing to her, the slow drag of his hand up and down his cock making her shudder with excitement. She was ready to vibrate herself into non existence, her back arching off the bed when Killian slapped her clit with his erection once, twice, three times before she reached down, knocked Killian's hand aside, and slid his cock through the dampness below right to where she needed him the most.

"Fuck me-," Emma exhaled hard, slamming her head into the pillows behind her.

She had never guided anyone into herself before, unless he was made of silicone, and she let out a steady moan at the repeat sensation of Killian filling her up once more. At around half his length, he stopped, watching her intently for any sign of pain, until pulling almost all the way out and then slipping back into her. With every shallow thrust, Killian felt Emma relax a little more, even canting her hips in time with his and allowing him to slip in and over her g-spot a little bit quicker each time.

Killian could have used his tongue or even his hand, but he knew that with a little gentle persuasion, Emma body would and could bend to his will. She was ablaze, burning up from the inside out, and with every steadily increasing thrust came an equally elevated pitch in groans. Killian paused briefly to set her feet on his hips, restricting his entry to only a comfortable length whilst allowing him to quicken his pace and thus ensuring Emma remained unhurt. A quick, calculated move saw his thumb finding her clit, striking over the nerve bundle in time with his thrusts, watching, waiting for the telltale shake in Emma's thighs that signalled her release.

"Good girl," Killian soothed when Emma let out a moan. He increased his speed, short, shallow thrusts that stretched her in such a way that she cried out with near completion. "Such a delicious smelling cunt too, and you’re not even there yet."

“So close,” she breathed, her whole body twitching.

“You’re lovely, Emma, like this,” Killian praised, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her stomach. Her skin burned his but was instantly cooled by the thin layer of sweat that Emma’s body had created to try and cool the inferno hers was engulfed in. “For me,” he growled possessively into her navel.

“Only you,” Emma cried, so close to the edge she tried and failed to balance the level of her voice.

Killian had told himself over and over that her words would never have any effect on him, no matter what she might say, but Emma had a way of getting inside of his skin that he had never known before. Everything about her called the beast inside him, his baser instincts clawing their way closer to the surface with every sound she made or touch she made to his body. It wasn’t her intention to make him feel any of the things he was, he was sure of it, but damn if he wasn’t already addicted to everything about her.

“Kiss me,” Emma sighed, her voice so quiet that Killian wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. When she reached out for him, eyes closed and fingers extended to what lie beyond her open legs, grinning when she made contact with the soft fur of his stomach, a grin broke out over her perfect lips through hurried pants. “Kiss me, Killian, now!”

Her words were a demand, and usually not a turn on for him, but Killian found himself complying, dropping forward, bracing his hands on either side of her face and pressing his mouth to hers, open ever so slightly, tongues tasting, exploring, half of his cock still inside of her as Emma came undone beneath him. Her body spasmed, her thighs shaking and clamping to the side of his hips, feet hanging limply over the curve of his calves as Killian stroked her down from her high, whole hand massaging the length of her upper legs with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed contently. “I love being kissed when I come.”

“Duly noted,” Killian nodded, pushing himself back up and taking her in. Emma got more and more beautiful with every encounter, he was sure. “Although, if you want my knot,” he droned seductively, shuffling back until he pulled out of her and tried to ignore her whine of detest as he encouraged her to roll onto her stomach. “You’re going to need another one.”

Killian’s hands were on her back, massaging circles with just the right amount of force to make her shiver with every sweep of his talented fingers. In the little time he had known her, Killian had discovered that when Emma came, she came hard, so he figured a little relaxing but sensual massage between orgasms was justified. He kneaded the skin of her thighs, a little rougher than he had ever before because he knew she liked it that way, and rejoiced in the noises she made, half whimpering and half growling as she buried her face into the plush cushion.

“Stop,” she whined, her words muffled by the pillow.

Killian let out a hearty laugh that shook his whole body and had his cock bobbing against her plump, round arse. “You don’t mean that,” he chuckled, his voice gravelly and darkened by his own arousal. “Do you, love?” He teased, kissing between each bump of her spine until he reached its base, and content her nerves were heightened enough to make her shudder, ghosted his lips over the skin there with the promise of more.

Emma lifted her head when he paused. “Fuck, no.” She gave him a sultry glare over her shoulder, blonde hair slightly askew and fallen over her face.

“Good. Now,” Killian began through a grunt as he skimmed his hands over the curve of her hips, pressing firmly into her flesh and hoisting her arse into the air. Emma squealed excitedly and he couldn’t stop the throb of pleasure that overtook him again. “Present.”

Emma gulped hard, burying her face back into the pillow and making sure she was in the position Killian wanted, even if he had said this wasn’t about making him feel good, she still wanted to make him. She’d read things about Alphas, about how knotting was a personal thing and that they could control it, so if she wanted it, then she was willing to play her part in getting it.

Killian couldn’t help the snarl that audibly escaped his mouth when Emma wiggled her arse at him and when she moved her knees apart, and her scent hit him, he was even more gone. Emma was incredible, Beta or not, and he was finding it hard to contain his knot beneath his grip as he grabbed the base of his cock and willed it away. The last thing he wanted was a premature pop, and as if his body wasn’t his own, he found himself kneading one of the globes her arse with his free hand and licking his lips when her glistening nectar began to drip from her and gravitate towards the bed.

“Gods, love, you’re so, so wet,” he gulped, the last word catching in his throat. The only reply he got from Emma was another muffled hum of agreement, and when he slipped a greedy, exploratory finger through her silky folds and then to his lips, he immediately needed more.

Killian rearranged himself, scooting back until he was on all fours behind her and face to face with her dripping sex. A hand on each cheek spread her wider for him, his tongue wasting no time in diving in to taste what he had craved for most of the evening. She tasted like their earlier fuck, the coppery tang of blood where his girth had stretched her finding refuge on his tongue. Emma pushed back into his face, swaying her hips to try and gain some sort of increased friction, but Killian held her still with a firm grip on her hips, swallowing her down like a hungry wolf.

“Don’t move, sweetheart, I’m not done tasting you yet.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head when his tongue found her again, the flat edge lapping over her clit with each swipe, the tip stiffening to delve into her centre immediately afterwards. Killian was certainly all about making her feel good, with both his actions and his words. Fuck, she had never experienced talk like it, such eroticism that had her wondering how much of it was real and how much of it was because he was being paid. Not that she cared because as Killian left her, cold air invading the parts he had lavished upon with his tongue, her whine of anguish was rewarded with the tip of him pressing into her once more.

“Oh, fuck,” she sang through gritted teeth.

When he was halfway into her again, Killian paused and let her relax to his size. “Emma?” He coaxed, rubbing the small of her back through her groan and holding her steady as she tried to push back onto him. “Love?”

“Yes?” She didn’t even recognise the pleasure induced hiss that left her mouth as her own voice.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you, won’t you?” Killian’s voice had changed, miraculously kind and unlike any other Alpha in this position. Closer to his rut, instinct would have taken over and would have had him buried to the hilt inside of her, pushing to fill her with his seed, like all Alphas craved. The fact that he was able to control his need surprised even him because Emma was a specimen to behold and he wasn’t sure how long he could actually last now that she was wet, primed and wanton in front of him, begging for his knot. “Please, say it.”

“Yes,” Emma sighed in a daze. “Please...just...don't stop.”

Killian hadn’t even realised his plea was out loud until Emma nodded into the pillow tucked under her chin and let out a silent, orgasmic scream as she inched back onto his length guided by his hands. She was ready and she wanted him, knot and all, and in the exact moment the wiry hairs on his stomach brushed against the smooth, pert skin of her behind, Killian knew Graham could take his contract and shove it right up his wannabe Alpha arse.

“Fuck,” Killian hissed, dragging a clawed hand down her spine as gently as he could muster with her heat enveloping the whole of him. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he grunted in a quaking voice. He felt dizzy, the room spinning, and he leaned forward and rested his forehead to her back to steady himself. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he repeated with a sly grin that he pressed to her skin for a rewarding kiss.

Emma had no words, just her body, so she clenched her muscles to jumpstart him back into action. Their limited window to be together was closing, and she’d be damned if she was letting Killian go without getting what he had promised. Emma leaned forward, arching her back and grinding herself back onto Killian length with a content sigh, the first few thrusts really opening her up all the way to her insides, but the few that followed were more comfortable. Killian let her set the pace, watching as his cock disappeared inside of her with every bob, her breath leaving her lungs every time he bottomed out inside of her, pulling his knot back to the surface where it threatened to pop once more.

“Killian, I…,” Emma panted, her movements back into his length becoming erratic at best.

“It’s alright, love,” Killian soothed, helping her onto all fours and nudging her legs even further apart with his knees. “Just let go,” he bid, taking over her movements and setting a new pace that had her toes curling. “I’ve got you,” he promised.

She was close, he could tell, and if there was any way he was going to be able to last, he needed to make sure that they came together. Killian skimmed his hands over her back again, her porcelain skin shimmering in the darkness as he hooked his hands over her shoulders and pulled her back onto his length, ending each thrust with a powerful snap of his hips. Emma gasped but he’d heard it before and knew it wasn’t in pain, just the sound she made as she scaled the heights of her own pleasure, and he wanted more.

Killian grit his teeth, jaw muscles clenched so tightly he thought he might crack one at any moment, but in the split second it took him to wrap his hand around Emma’s hair, bunching it into a loose ponytail in his fist and changing the angle of his hips, she was coming, shaking uncontrollably as he pounded into her the last few times before, coated in her juices that seemed endless, Killian’s knot exposed itself and he cried out, pushing it into her deliciously welcoming core.

The second he was inside of her he felt panic, not because he had so brazenly flaunted Humbert’s contract, but because the way Emma’s muscles massaged his length and coaxed out his own release, something he has convinced himself he could forego but had been helpless to avoid.

“Don’t come in my wife.”

Graham’s words echoed in his head, which was still spinning from Emma, as intoxicating as she was. She collapsed and let out a cry of pain when he fell on top of her, eager to not hurt her more by pulling out his knot too soon.

“Easy, love,” Killian said softly, though his voice was a little shaky. “Lie still.”

He managed to get them onto their side, tucking Emma’s legs up to her chest as far as she was comfortable with and delicately trailing his hand over her shivering shoulders. On closer inspection her whole body was quivering, her skin slightly damp and her scent had changed too. It was puzzling, feral in nature and something that Killian was sure he was imagining. When Emma pressed herself into him, her shoulder blades sticking to the slight dampness of his chest hair, she smiled and hummed, the sound vibrating right through them.

“How do you feel?” Killian worried. He couldn’t help it. His Alpha self was screaming out to care, to nurture and to protect, even though he was probably the one causing her most harm right now. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmmmm,” Emma hummed again, moving her head so Killian could rest his arm down underneath it. She replaced her head on his arm, interlocked their fingers, and pressed her lips to his bicep.

“Is that good?” Killian smirked, squeezing her fingers.

He knew he felt good, Gods above, she made him feel things he never had before. Better than good, in fact. Emma had a way of making him forget every one of his woes and why he had taken this job in the first place. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he would have rather been in that moment, wrapped up and knot deep inside of the beautiful woman who hadn’t just captured his heart, but had held it out, vulnerable and fragile, and hadn’t taken advantage of the fact, gracious enough to only take the love she thought she deserved, even if Killian knew she was worth far more than she had ever been led to believe before.

“It’s good,” Emma nodded, nuzzling into the crook of his elbow and bending his arm until she could kiss his fingers joins with his. She let her lips linger, enjoying the way he tasted when she let his arm fall back down to the bed and her tongue swept across her bottom lip.

“You’re comfortable?” Killian fretted, but that just earned him a swat from her free hand.

“Will you stop? Killian, I’m fine. More than fine,” she beamed, enjoying the way her muscles still fluttered because of his invading knot.

“What’s more than fine?” Killian teased, nuzzling into her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and kissing her neck.

His question threw her for a second because she struggled to find the correct words to accurately describe what she felt. It might have been love, but Emma wasn’t sure she had ever known that before. It felt good, she knew that much, but was more than lust. A comfortable silence fell over them, wherein Killian busied himself with fluffing the sheet over the top of them whilst making sure he moved the absolutely smallest amount, so as not to cause her any undue pain. Emma felt her lips curve into a beaming smile and reached behind her, threading her fingers in his hair and holding his face back to her neck where he peppered her with more kisses.

“This,” Emma cooed. “This is perfect.”

Killian couldn’t have agreed more. His hand slipped under the sheet and over her ribcage, his forearm settling under her breasts as he pulled her to his chest even harder, reluctant to let her go. He shifted his legs a little, trying to tangle them around hers, but the movement made Emma wince and stiffen in his arms.

“Love?” Killian asked concerned.

“I’m okay,” Emma told him softly, stroking his forearms in reassurance. “Just a little,-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered into her hair. He kissed the back of her head and hooked a hand under her knee, moving it closer to her chest and relieving some of the tearing sensations she was feeling at her entrance. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured her, never wanting his knot to recede so he could hold her like this forever.

“I promise I’m okay,” Emma smiled, pecking his hairy forearm with a kiss. “I wanted this. It’s not that bad, just…”

“Just what, love?” Killian smirked, craning his neck to watch a blush bloom out over her cheeks and his hands explored further up her thigh to where they were joined.

“It feels so good,” Emma began but the last word caught in her throat when Killian’s fingers brushed around her entrance, the still hypersensitive nerves pounding with blood and excitement of his touch. She was inexplicably wet, still so very wet, and she felt his smirk turn into a full blown smile as he nudged his nose into the skin behind her ear at his discovery of her juices coating her inner thigh.

“So I can feel,” Killian teased with a dark tone that had a shiver rattling down her spine. He nudged his hips forward and made sure he was inside of her even deeper than before, his hand gripping her inner thigh so tightly he was worried he might blemish her skin. “Gods, you’re amazing,” he growled, inhaling her scent. “You’re going to keep me hard for hours.”

Emma gasped when he pushed deeper, the nerves inside of her core igniting, synapsing firing and a new wave of lubrication seeping from their join. She pinched her eyes closed, white dots sparkling behind her eyelids, another orgasm seemingly just beyond the horizon of anything she had known before. Killian, knot and all, rock solid inside of her was enough for her body to react again, even without the friction of his thrusts, and when his hand explored between her folds, it was just too much.

“I can’t come again,” Emma whined, her own words foreign in her ears. Not that she could even hear anything but the high pitched buzz of a pending release, the build up alone rendering her deaf. Her head fell back onto his chest and Killian just grinned against her skin, scraping his teeth over the curve of her shoulder joint when he finally found her clit.

“Yes, you can,” Killian commanded, circling an essence covered finger over her clit, softly at first. “The sounds you make, the way your body falls apart, Emma-,” Killian growled her name through clenched teeth and she felt her stomach fall away when his hips ground into her.

“Keep talking,” Emma whimpered, holding his hand between her legs where his fingers were deftly stroking her clit up and down, nudging the bundle from side to side and making her squeal.

“Fuck,” Killian grunted, increasing his pace. “The way you smell when you come all over me, like sweetness and redemption.” Her hand gripped harder at his wrist, but he just moved his hand faster, wishing there was more of him to give her. “The way I make that happen-,”

“Sweet fucking Christ, Killian, I’m gonna come!”

Emma went rigid in his arms, every muscle in her entire body contracting at the same time. Even her lungs stopped working and she couldn’t breathe, Killian’s hand on her stomach over her diaphragm the only thing that was helping her to remember to inhale. He held her tightly, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her, her body fighting the bulge of his muscles as he wrapped her in his arms and let her writhe against his knot. He could feel her muscles, featherlite flutters against the whole length of him, massaging the bulbs of his knot with every spasm in time with her heart beating at one hundred miles an hour in her chest.

The weight in her eyelids lifted, the blurring in her vision clearing and she could suddenly breathe again, the burning sensation in her lungs ceasing. When her hearing returned all she could make out was Killian laughing, his proud sounding chuckle vibrating through both of them as he bundled her up in his arms once more and crushed his lips to the side of her slightly sweaty face. She laughed with him, pure, unadulterated joy rumbling from deep down in her belly that had him wishing she could love him in the same way he now knew he loved her.

Oh fuck.

“Now, it’s perfect,” Killian smirked, tucking them back up in the sheet.

[locked-behind-the-walls]

Reviews of Some Nova’s Fics

I have been on the (non-fiction) writing kick as of recently, which finally lead to me writing some fic reviews. I've been planning to start writing reviews for B7 fic for a long time, but those plans mostly involved some highbrow "New Wave" gen in the vein of the stories published in The Aquitar Files. Of course, this means that when I did write some reviews, they were about the stories of the classic slashfic author beloved by the fandom. :D

Why Nova? While I like her, she's far from being my favorite B7 author, in slash or in all the fic. I think she's just easy to write about, for me at least - there are a lot of things that I like about her, and a lot of things that frustrate me, and they often are in the same story. Her writing has a lot of clearly discernible patterns and tropes, and I find it much easier to write about them than about the subtleties and nuances of relationships between the characters; I may say that while I like reading both gen and shippy fics of all types, I may tend to write about even the shippy fics in the same way I write about gen. I also probably tend to "accentuate the negative", not because my feelings about this author are mostly negative, but because I find it easier - and more entertaining - to write about the things I dislike than about the things I like.

Let's start? Be warned, those reviews contain spoilers and discussions of heavy subjects. The fics I read and reviewed here: Delinquent, Avon at the Window, Five Easy Pieces and a More Difficult One, Town Mouse, Country Mouse, Love Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry, Before and After, Why I Can't Stand Vila Restal, Prime Suspect, Time and Fevers, Outlaws and In-Laws.

Delinquent

This was the first Nova's fic that I read and one of my favorite ones so far. It has some problems - while I like good boy/bad boy pairs, I think she sometimes tries too hard to shove Blake and Avon into these roles; the way Avon regains his rebelliousness after getting together with Blake felt too abrupt, almost comically so (I know that Magical Healing Cock is a thing; perhaps we should come up with the B7-specific version, Magical Class-Consciousness Rising Cock); and, of course, "undesirable associates" gets repeated ad nauseum. But I just find the idea of Avon being Blake's childhood hero so adorable, and it's for sure one of the most original takes on "they knew each other pre-canon" trope in this fandom. It's interesting to review it after reading other Nova's fics - now I can clearly discern some tropes and headcanons she used in many other fics, e.g. exploring characters' backstories, accentuated differences in Blake's and Avon's upbringing, love restoring the fighting spirit in characters and so on.

Five Easy Pieces and a More Difficult One

I... frankly don't remember that well the more psychological parts of this one, even though I read it not so long ago. What I remember well is all that sex and the bit with the uprising, which sums up my priorities quite accurately. (The sex was damn good. And so was the uprising.) In my defense I must say that it's one of those "faux-casual sex turns into emotional commitment" fics, so sex and romance are interwoven very closely here, even by the fanfiction standards. It's also quite trope-heavy, going through several slash cliches, and as someone who's not a fan of many slash cliches I can say that it's done in pleasantly non-cringy way (except the first part, which was somewhat cringy. I think nothing can redeem Visiting a Gay Planet and Trying to Fit In for me, except maybe outright parodies).

Town Mouse, Country Mouse

Another story about Blake's and Avon's very different upbringings, the one that probably got the most stylized, most deliberate and most extreme about emphasizing these differences. I found the sordidness too sordid and the cutesiness too cutesy, but it was probably the point.

Love Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry

Oh right. One of my least favorite tropes of all times is using other people as cannon fodder to showcase your Great Romance, and this fic is this trope in spades. Nova clearly likes it - she uses it in several fics, sometimes with several people. That's where we would't agree, I guess. Avon killing himself is another thing which we would't agree on. I get it that Avon have seen (and done) some shit, but the only case in which I can imagine him killing himself is, ironically, if he shared Blake's idealism - it would make such a hellish mix with his personality that it might get just too difficult to bear. This one is not the major point of disagreement and I think can be written convincingly, but here it just comes off as too dramatic. I liked the Vila voice, though, it was pleasant to read and created interesting interplay with the grim backstory and not exactly sunny main story.

Before and After

The only thing I liked about this fic is that Avon got put against the wall for killing Blake. (This review will surely gain me a lot of friends in the fandom.) It was bold and quite cathartic. But of course, here it was because he wanted it - he's too cool to just be shot, apparently. I can also add half a point for the homophobia thing - I don't mind exploring this subject matter in slash, and don't even mind portraying main characters as homophobic, it could be done in an interesting and nuanced manner, but here I felt like it was only somewhat interesting, but mostly felt forced and just made them too unsympathetic. Apart from that, it's just way too similar to Love Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry, except now Deva is also dragged into the Not As Good As performance.

Avon at the Window

Ouch. I guess we are supposed to read this one in non-quite-serious, kinky way, because otherwise the situation described here becomes just way too appalling and overshadows any enjoyment one could derive from characters getting together. On the other hand, at least here Avon's Horrible Past is not as jarring as in Outlaws and In-Laws, because this fic is much more angstier and here it's more a center of the story. Nova is very unsubtle at laying out the angst here, crude even - and effective, considering that from all her fics, I remember this one the most and it provoked the strongest emotional response. It's a controversial trope, and I'm not a fan of how she engages with it, but in its own way, it worked.

What I dislike, however, is that Blake is basically mischaracterized for the sake of angst. I can see him to be uncomfortable with prostitution, but I can't see him react in such over-the-top judgemental and aggressive manner. I think it would be more realistic - and more interesting - if he tried to be understanding, but was making such poor job of it, being so clearly not okay with the whole situation despite trying to be, and it eventually lead to falling out between them. I believe he at least would bother to learn more about it and would knew how old Avon was at that time! And then I would be able to buy his more bitter and aggressive behavior PGP because well, Avon shot him, he has the right to be upset, and besides he did seem more bitter and aggressive in general in the last episode. As I said, Nova is very unsubtle here and sometimes it hurts the quality of the fic. Also, while treating domes and space stations as ordinary cities under the open sky is a very common trope in Blake's 7 fanfiction, it also one of my least favorite ones and here it's truly egregious in the bits set in the Space City.

The part I liked the most is the one where they are discussing the book about the prostitution. Nova can be very good in sociopolitical stuff, and those ARE the themes where I wouldn't mind her to be unsubtle, but alas, there is too little of it in this fic.

Why I Can't Stand Vila Restal

At this point it started to read like several other fics, some of them Nova's and some of them not. I don't have much to say about this story - it's easy to read and the sex is good, but there is just nothing new about it. Also, Blake is too paternalistic in this one, which can be done well but I just don't dig it, especially in sex scenes.

Prime Suspect

Another fic that I mostly forgot soon after reading. Blake playing detective was fun, and the resolution was deliciously wacky - but what I love about Nova is that she's not afraid of wackiness. Orac bashing is probably the only sort of character bashing I can stand, and no, that's not because it's not alive, it's because it's such an asshole. (I like Orac anyway).

Time and Fevers

Other characters are dragged into Blake's and Avon's love lives to make a point about their love - again! Deva, this time, and Jenna, somewhat, and while I like Blake/Deva, but definitely not like this. At least some time is given to explore their relationship, though not much. I would have preferred if Jenna either got a larger role or wasn't mentioned at all - as it stands now, it's just too creepy. Did she also die? I think we just are not supposed to care. :(

I liked quite a lot of things about this fic. I have a weakness for the washed out, beaten down Blake, and this fic portrays him rather well. Characters are older than usual in this story, and it is also handled well. The theme of love giving you back your mojo is developed better than in Delinquent, even though it involves unfavorable comparisons with other relationship (but not explicitly so, thankfully). The angst is good and not overdramatic, but rather more muted and melancholic, which goes better with Blake's 7 fics. The stuff about sexual histories of the character was, like almost always in Nova's fics, one of the strongest points. However, some bits gave off the vibe that was too romcom-y, especially Dayna and Soolin acting like matchmakers - it's just so not my thing.

Outlaws and In-Laws

One of my favorite Nova's fics and so quintessentially her - very good and hot mess at the same time. It has a lot of themes which I like and most of which Nova generally does well: explorations of characters' pasts and their sexual histories; political themes, including sexual politics; quite a lot of worldbuilding and interesting original characters. That first time is one of my favorite ones, the sex is original, hot and not unrealistic at the same time. Even the cheesier parts didn't feel that bad (or maybe my love of the Gothic genre helped me to get through them). However, the mood of the first and the second part of the fic was just way too different, which again might have been the point, but I don't think that it works that well there. I agree with Aralias' review that Blake is too damn passive in the second part, and this that just felt like him abandoning Avon. I think it contributes to the sudden drop of temperature in the story, figuratively speaking. I also wish we spent more time with Blake's mom - she seemed like a fascinating character, and yet most of her arc was spent on wackiness and being an obstacle.

So, those are my reviews of Nova so far. Maybe I'll write more in the future after reading more fics, or maybe not. Of course, all those fics are also well-written, and easy to read, and have good characterizations, but other people already wrote about it. At this point I can describe Nova as an author who sticks strongly and noticeably to the tropes and headcanons that she likes, and some of them I like too, while others not so much. Her fics also have a lot of mood whiplash, some of which probably wasn't intended as such. I also got the impression that she's better in more lighthearted stories than in straightforward angst.

[the2020romanceproject]

Review: The Soldier's Scoundrel by Cat Sebastian

(Or: three types of tension, and how this book fails to balance them)

You guys! I read my first romance novel! I enjoyed it in a lot of respects; there were also ways it disappointed me. More below the cut.

A few caveats before I dig in. First, this is the first full romance novel I've ever read. I’m going to try not to make too many wild conjectures about the genre as a whole, but forgive me if I leap to a few inaccurate conclusions. Second, I'll be making comparisons to fanfiction, and while I have read widely, I definitely haven’t hit all the corners of fandom. The comparisons will be biased towards the kinds of fanfiction I happen to have read (mostly slash, mostly on AO3).

Finally, I’m going to say at the outset that I feel a little weird saying critical things about an author's work in general. This is definitely an effect of fandom, where unsolicited concrit is a no-go. But this is a published novel, and there's a whole different review culture around published works, so I'm going to go ahead and be critical. If anyone feels like I'm being inappropriately harsh or cruel about any book at any point, please let me know.

So, The Soldier's Scoundrel! A quick plot summary, with spoilers: Jack grew up in the gutter and is now a roguish detective-type in Regency London, going around the law to solve problems for ladies and other people down on their luck (but never gentlemen; he hates gentlemen). Oliver is the younger son of an earl who's been in the army for a decade but got injured in battle and is back in London, living off a modest income. He goes to see Jack because he discovers that his sister paid Jack a large amount of money several years ago and wants to know why. The two men are immediately attracted to each other but adversarial. Oliver disapproves of Jack's law-breaking but gets embroiled in his current case, and the two end up traveling together, sleeping together, and falling in love. Jack eventually tells Oliver to screw off because he can’t see himself having a place in a gentleman's life; Oliver then tries to get himself ruined so that Jack will be comfortable being with him. Jack stops him from ruining himself but sees that Oliver is determined for them to be together, so they find a small house they can both live in and set up a life together.

First of all, let me say that the sexual tension in this book was TOP-NOTCH. No complaints there. There’s a scene in an alleyway early on where Oliver licks Jack’s thumb and it is delicious. Good job, Cat Sebastian, making me really want these two men to jump into bed together.

Unfortunately, that ended up being a bit of a problem, because as soon as they did jump into bed together—which happens just around the halfway point—I dramatically lost interest. They weren’t in love yet, or established as a couple, so there should have been a remaining source of tension, but I super didn’t feel it.

(Extra caveat: this was true FOR ME. YMMV.)

I have a theory as to why. I’m still thinking it through, but here’s a stab at it:

There are two primary kinds of tension in a story about two people getting together, which I’m going to call sexual tension and romantic tension. Sexual tension is X isn’t sleeping with Y but wants to be. Romantic tension is where X is in love with Y but thinks that Y isn’t in love with them. (It is NOT where X and Y are in love but can’t be together—but more on that below.) You often get the two types of tension at once: X is in love with Y and wants to sleep with them. But sometimes you just get romantic tension—where, say, they’re already sleeping together but feelings haven’t been admitted—or just sexual tension, where they’re attracted to each other but not in love.

This book starts out with just sexual tension. Jack and Oliver are immediately attracted to each other, and though they try to suppress the attraction, it only grows as they spend more time together. I was super there for all of that. But then they sleep together. Sexual tension: gone. This is where romantic tension could have stepped in and carried us through the second half of the book. But they weren’t in love yet. There WAS no romantic tension. Where they wanted to be (in bed together) and where they were (in bed together) lined up perfectly—and so I lost interest.

There are a few ingredients that contributed to this problem, I think. The period of time covered by the book was relatively short (I want to say a couple of weeks). The crucible forcing the two characters together was relatively weak, so there wasn’t a lot of excuse for them to spend time together if they weren’t sleeping together. They didn’t know each other at all before the start of the book. They were very honest, not with each other, but with themselves, about their feelings every step of the way, so there was never an indication that they might be feeling more strongly than the narration let on. We got both of their points of view so there was never any tension for the reader about what the other character was feeling—or even for the two of them about what the other was feeling, really. And they had sex relatively early in the story (for my expectations, anyway).

This is such a different combination of elements than I would have expected to find in fanfiction. Fanfiction has a definite advantage over romance when it comes to building romantic tension, because it can build on a preexisting canon relationship. It doesn’t always choose to—sometimes people write complete AUs—but even AUs get to build on a preexisting connection between the characters in the minds of the readers. So some of this difference is inherent to two the genres. But I’m going to go through a few of the things that I think contributed to the tension problem in the second half of the book, including how fanfic might have handled them differently.

Time & proximity. The timeline of this book was so short. Of course Jack and Oliver weren’t in love by the time they had sex; it had only been like a week, and they hadn’t spent that much time together. They weren’t roommates, or best friends, or colleagues, or teammates, or customers at each other’s coffee shops, or even rivals. These premises could exist in original fiction just as easily as in fanfiction. I don’t know if they do and this book is an exception, or if the premise of strangers meeting and then choosing to seek each other out is a genre standard. Either way, it made it very difficult for the characters to fall in love before falling into bed.

Honesty. I was surprised so often by the text TELLING us their feelings for each other every step of the way. Not that it’s not good to know your own emotions—it is very good! Very important!—but what’s good in people isn’t always good in protagonists. These two knew they were attracted right away, and then they knew they were falling in love, and that took some of the fun out of it for me. It also took some of the power out of their feelings. We are often bad at feelings, and we’re particularly bad at feelings when they’re important ones. In having the characters admit to themselves what they felt as soon as they started feeling it, the text made those feelings seem less significant. It also made it seem very unlikely that the characters were feeling more than they said. It deprived us of the potential tension of waiting for the characters to realize what they already felt. Withholding is a huge source of tension, and this text did not withhold.

Two POVs. The text didn’t even withhold the love interest’s point of view. One of my friends who reads more het than I do tells me that two points of view is more common in the fics she reads, but it is VERY uncommon in the ones I read. I can only think of one I’ve read recently (and in that one, both parties were desperately in love for years before they so much as kissed). In this book, there was never a possibility that the other person wouldn’t feel as strongly as the POV character, because we had seen both POVs and we knew they were in roughly the same place as each other.

There was no confession. Remember what I was saying about honesty above? They just told each other! How they felt! When they felt it! So boring!! I mean, yes, healthy and all, but a story needs conflict and this could have been a great source of it but wasn’t. I’ll grant you that misunderstanding plots and secret-keeping plots can be done very badly—sometimes you just end up yelling at the characters for not having the one simple conversation that would solve all their problems-—but they can also be done very well. There are real reasons people might be afraid to confess their desires to each other, or why they might think the other person could never return their feelings, and this didn’t present any of those. To its credit, it also didn’t give us bad or contrived reasons, which would have been much worse. But it just didn’t find any tension here. (I fully acknowledge that not every story HAS to use this as a source of tension. But it was one way this could have done it.)

The wrong kind of obstacles (for me). I discovered in reading this book that while I love external obstacles to characters getting together, I strongly prefer the kind of obstacle that is a barrier to them telling each other they’re in love rather than the kind that keeps them from finding a happy place in the world together. Once they’ve confessed and are, to all intents and purposes, together, even if not in the eyes of the world, my interest largely stops. “This person is engaged to someone else; therefore he will never love me” is a million times more interesting to me than “this person is engaged to someone else and so even though we love each other we cannot marry.” Fic has very few of the latter and a lot of the former, in my experience.

The wrong kind of internal resistance (for me). Again, I like the kind of obstacle that makes X think Y will never love them, rather than the kind that makes X not want to be with Y. I’m just...not that interested in a character that doesn’t WANT to be with the other person. If that’s what they want, they’ve already got it, and my work as a reader is done!  Fanfiction does tend to feature a lot of internal resistance—I can’t fall in love with him; he’s another man!—but it usually takes the form of the POV character thinking the other person wouldn’t want them or would hate them for even feeling like this. Jack and Oliver both have reasons to not want to be with each other, and it does not make me interested in them getting together. It just makes me think, great, they’re sleeping together; they’re done.

Loss of sexual tension. So many of the problems with the tension could have been solved if the characters hadn’t had sex until the end of the novel. I suspect (and will be curious to investigate further) that this is a quasi-requirement of the romance genre: a sex scene well before the last tenth of the book, which is where I would have put it in this case. (To be fair, that would also have required a better crucible for the characters, because there was no good reason for them to spend so much time together if they weren’t having sex.) A sex scene halfway through the book can totally work, but only (for me) if there’s some other major source of tension preserved. Either they’re already in love but pretending it’s just sex, or (in a fun twist that preserves a good deal of the sexual tension) they’re pretending it’s practice, or just buddies, and that they don’t really feel the desire they do. There are probably other possibilities here, but this book didn’t really choose any of them.

This all might just be a way of saying I like pining. (It’s true; I do.) But I suspect there’s something else going on here, where romance readers might experience tension from a different source than I do. They might be reading not to see these two people who are in love get together, but to see these two people who aren’t in love fall in love. Which, I’ll admit, is often the case for all of us at the start of a story about two strangers meeting. But for me, for tension to be preserved, what the characters want needs to increase more quickly than what they get. This is very different from a healthy real-life dating situation, where what the two (or more) people want will match or be only very slightly ahead of what they get. Maybe romance, or at least this novel, is trying to mimic these healthier scenarios? I guess that’s fine, but it seems a little boring to me.

So, the novel didn’t have great romantic tension. One thing that could potentially have made up for it is a third type of tension: logistical. If sexual tension is wanting to sleep with someone but not, and romantic tension is wanting the person to be in love with you but thinking they’re not, then logistical tension is when you know the other person wants you and loves you but there’s some other force keeping you apart. It’s the external obstacle I mentioned above. There are versions of this that I find strongly compelling, but it has to be an ironclad external obstacle, and it should probably coincide with deprivation on other fronts: they’re in love but can’t see each other, definitely can’t sleep together, maybe don’t even get to talk to each other about their love. This book didn’t have any of that. They spent most of the book together, and a good half of it as lovers, and while there were societal obstacles to them being together, they were both financially solvent and relatively unattached, so the obstacles didn’t seem very strong to me.

There was also, it’s worth noting, a mystery plot. I haven’t touched on it a lot in this post. It was a fun thread, and definitely one of the things that helped me get through the post-sex middle, but it resolved fairly easily and wasn’t a big part of the story. It was mostly an excuse to have Jack and Oliver going places together. This was definitely a romance with a mystery in it rather than a mystery with a romance in it.

...Okay, this has gotten extremely long and there are still things I haven’t talked about! I should mention that there were a lot of things I did like about this book. (I mean, I liked it wholeheartedly until about halfway through.) Jack and Oliver were believable and likable characters who were very convincingly different from each other. They had opposing worldviews that made a lot of sense in light of their pasts, and their relationship with each other changed them in ways that made them both better people, which is something I really like in a romance. The sex scenes were great, and there were a lot of sweet moments that I enjoyed despite being annoyed at the general lack of romantic tension. There was some really nice hurt-comfort. It was well-written and enjoyable in general; I just wanted something to pull me more strongly through the second half.

There are a few things that came up here that I’d love to dig into more—honesty vs. dramatic irony in narration; the overlap between attraction and love—but I think I’ll save those for further reviews. Doesn’t look like I’m going to run out of material anytime soon. :) For now, I’ll just say that I fully recommend the first half of this book. And if you like watching two characters who are already sleeping together fall in love, I can go ahead and recommend the whole thing.

(P.S. If anyone has recs for romance novels that do have pining, send them my way!)

[sparxwrites]

An old fandom friend @stardustandseas asked for some Caleb whump recs, so here!! Have forty eight of my personal favourites (alongside some quality angst-fic because that’s in the general spirit of whump, too). Feel free to reblog this post and add your own faves / plug your own writing! And I’m sure more excellent hurt!Caleb and sad!Caleb will be written in the future, so I may reblog this and add to it at some point.

If one of your fics is listed here and you’d like your tumblr url added to the credits, drop me a message and I’ll try to do so.

(Please check the tags/warnings on the fic itself. I’ve tried to tag for spoilers as best I can - I’m counting spoilers as Caleb backstory stuff and recent [as of August 2018] campaign developments. I’ve not tagged triggers on these, but several involve graphic descriptions of violence, sexual assault, and other similar upsetting things – such is the nature of whump.)

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“Betrothed” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; 70k WIP]

After nearly a decade of war, Archmage Caleb Widogast has brokered a peace with the Xhorasian empire. It comes at the cost of his hand in marriage. They send the Nonagon, leader of their bloodhunters, to marry him. He wasn't expecting a beautiful tiefling. He wasn't expecting Mollymauk Tealeaf.

[A truly delicious mix of slow-burn relationship, sexual tension and pining, and ongoing physical health issues and angst on Caleb’s side. It’s both soothing and emotionally satisfying, it’s currently my “save to read before going to bed” fic, and I love it so much.]

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“the mist upon the hill” by BucketofWater (@ereborslionheart) [Caleb/Molly; 80k WIP]

Caleb is a mottled canvas of thin, white lacerations so many that Nott can hardly begin to count them all, she wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Or, the soulmate au where some soulmates share injuries and Caleb is very tired and very sore.

[My other current “save to read before going to bed” fic. It’s got everything – slow-burn, soulmates, angst, Caleb trying to hide his injuries, miscommunication… I also adore this one and honestly, the whump is just so satisfying.]

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“Traveling Hearts” by CatKing_Catkin (@pangurbanthewhite) [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 117k

A figure from Lucien's past shows up to collect on an old arrangement. When Molly doesn't want to talk business, the stranger takes him and the Mighty Nein for himself instead.

Caleb is only just able to get Jester to safety in time. But when the rest of his friends fall victim to their captor's vampiric thrall, that leaves him trapped and alone against the twisted attentions and easy cruelty of a wizard more powerful than he's ever dreamed of being.

Jester struggles to understand her enemies and make a plan of attack. Her friends are counting on her to save them, even if some of them don't know it anymore, and so she is determined to be the light in the darkness for them and all the people of Tanner's Crossing.

With a little bit of magic and a little bit of research and a whole lot of determination as they fight their own battles, Caleb and Jester might just save their friends before they lose themselves in the bargain.

[I’m… genuinely unsure if anything I could say about this fic would do it justice. Please, please read it if you haven’t already, because I adore everything about it and it’s delightful and stressful and upsetting and plotty and incredibly whumpy aahhh. I’d probably put it in the top ten fics I’ve ever read, which is high praise indeed.]

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“The Trauma Cafe” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; major spoilers; 114k WIP]

There's a cafe that specializes in rehabilitating people with trauma. That cafe was home to Mollymauk Tealeaf. Now it's home to cult survivor Caleb Widogast.

[Another of the big campaign two fics that I suspect is something of a fandom classic by now. It’s less whump and more angst, past whump, and recovery, but I do suspect there might be some whump in the next few chapters. We’ll see. You absolutely have to read it, though, as with the above three.]

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“The Mighty Fieber” by hufflepirate (@hufflepirate) [Gen; (major?) spoilers; 13k]

When Caleb gets very sick, the rest of the Nein take care of him. The fever draws some of Caleb's issues to the front, but if Beau can figure out how to use punching for medicinal purposes, she can figure out how to talk about feelings. Maybe. Caleb isn't used to being cared about, but sometimes if it's masked enough, he can navigate it anyway.

[Hey you know how good the “comes down with a fever and people don’t notice at first, and then they do and are really scared by how ill the person is” trope is? This fic is basically Entirely That.]

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“starwalker” by ashinan (@ashinan) [Gen; 8k]

Those whose souls are claimed by the Fey are to be feared. Briderall learns this lesson the night Caleb is taken.

[There’s only a little whump in this, but it’s high quality whump, and the rest of the fic is so fucking good honestly. I adore terrifying unknowable eldritch creatures that dote on humans so...]

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“Oversharing” by Verity_Kindle [Caleb/Fjord; 7k]

When a spell goes wrong, the group tries to deal with the fallout. Fjord’s biggest concern is for Caleb’s well-being, while Caleb’s is...complicated.

Otherwise titled, Why Magic and Secrets Don’t Mix: The Autobiography of Caleb Widogast.

[Old and now jossed, but I still love it - accidental / uncontrollable telepathy is such a good fic conceit, and this one has it in spades. Somewhat au since this was written with the first few eps of the new campaign, iirc, but I adore it nonetheless.]

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“More Than This” by CatKing_Catkin (@pangurbanthewhite) [Gen; spoilers; 22k]

The Empire got a lot more unfriendly towards “unauthorized” mages, after the attack. Molly hadn’t even been aware that “unauthorized” mages were a thing beforehand, but suddenly they were. That was just the way things worked in the Empire, now more than ever, and it was one more thing The Mighty Nein had to roll with.

(Or, post Episode 12, the Mighty Nein get in trouble with the law by virtue of being a group containing a goblin, two tieflings, and a couple of mages. Caleb pulls off some heroics to let them get away, and by the time they find him again he's been hit with the Feeblemind spell as punishment. Rather fumbling attempts at coping ensue while the rest of the group tries to fix things.)

[I honestly can’t remember a Huge amount about this, but I remember it being angsty and kind and gentle, and I remember loving it. It’s also written by CatKing, and I love All their stuff, so that’s a point in its favour. Plus, feeblemind has such good angst and h/c potential tbh.]

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“This is Not an Asphyxiation Kink” by Catzgirl (@fenesvir) [Caleb/Fjord; 3.5k]

Caleb is hiding some secrets from the gang, and they come back to haunt him at the very worst of times. Fjord is there to catch him.

[Hey remember when we were all convinced that Caleb had been waterboarded / drowned at some point, and was terrified of water? That was a good time tbh.]

and, from the same series, “The Leaving of Caleb Widogast” [Caleb/Fjord; 31k]

When there's no way out, Caleb makes his own.

[This is… honestly, very fucking good, and gripped me the whole way through. A beautiful mix of Caleb’s PoV and the panic of the others trying to find him, engaging all the way through to the climax.]

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“the sea, take us back” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 9k]

The sea says: You are not welcome here. This place is not for you.

Caleb Widogast fights with everything he has to get back what was once ripped from him.

[A fun twist on the “Caleb is a werewolf” theory that everyone had at one point. Or, well. Not so fun for Caleb, but fun for the whump fans. Very intense and dramatic, very satisfying ending.]

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“confession / absolution” by duckbunny (@duckbunny) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 8k]

Molly risks a glance over his shoulder – Caleb is a private kind of man, he won’t want to be stared at – and sees eyes so wide that Molly might have been ten foot of venom and claws. “No,” he says, slowly, “I don’t think you want to be alone. What’s up?"

[More emotional h/c and angst than whump, technically, but a favourite so I’m including it anyways. Also has some really nice smut as an added bonus, which is always fun.]

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“[untitled]” by words-writ-in-starlight (@words-writ-in-starlight) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

viciousmaukeries asked: Molly/Caleb, both of them injured, waking up beside each other. hell, maybe there's even a cave-in somewhere in there?

[Both Caleb and Molly whump, my favourite combination!]

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“Suggestion” by pok3d3x (@tamiyos-pokedex) [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 6k]

In a world where mind altering magic is cheap, it's unwise to drink alone. The Mighty Nein step in to protect Caleb a little late.

[Caleb gets magic-roofied, and the team closes ranks to protect him and deal with the emotional fallout. Very intense and at times upsetting, but a delightful, emotional read.]

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“Everything’s Coming Up Flowers” by thismagichour (@calebwidogasts) [Caleb/Fjord; 5k]

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the victim coughs up flower petals until the love is requited, or death.

Caleb loves Fjord, to the point that it's literally killing him.

[I’m always a slut for the Hanahaki disease trope, which is a cross between soulmates and whump in the best way. Also, this list is uhh… super Widomauk-heavy, so it’s nice to have a wee bit of variation.]

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“till the last flower” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 8k]

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flower petals. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.

Caleb Widogast is heartbroken and very tired.

[Hey look, I did say I’m a slut for this trope…]

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“swallow up the flame like me” by words-writ-in-starlight (@words-writ-in-starlight) [Gen; major spoilers; 8k]

It has been nine days since Fjord, Jester, and Yasha disappeared in silence and left nothing behind them but blood and scuffed grass. When the rest of the Mighty Nein manages to capture someone who might have information, Caleb decides it's time to take things into his own hands and convinces Beau to let him.

[Not… technically whump but it’s such a nice, angsty, awful emotional portrait that I can’t help but include it…]

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“a country far away as health” by LoosePilgrim [Gen; major spoilers; 2.6k]

In the fall of a certain year, in the north of a certain kingdom, a man took a body to a box and laid the body inside. He walked away from the body, and the body stayed there for many years.

When the body had been a boy (a man; a boy) it had had a good memory.

The body in the box had a good memory too. Here is what the body remembers:

[Kinda experimental and very weird - ymmv on whether it counts as whump, technically speaking - but, as with all the other kid-of-whump things on here, I love it, so. It’s staying.]

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“be gone” by mnemememory [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 3k]

Beau has had this conversation before, in a different place, with a different man.

(or; beau walks out of a cupboard, and can't seem to find her way back)

[I’m… legit unsure if this should be on here, but it’s gorgeously written, and grindingly dark and unhappy, so I think it’s earned its place.]

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“Disguise Self” by Agrotera (@agrotera-ilisos) [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 10k]

“Even huddled beneath a cold, driving rain, Zadash was a brilliant city. It wasn’t substantially larger than the other cities Molly had visited when he was with the circus, nor was it especially more beautiful. The people certainly weren’t kinder. It stank of mud and horse dung, and the rain only helped to make the smell all the more oppressive. But there were little carts that lined the main avenues, and the proprietors of those little carts would sell you a bladder of still-hot mulled wine and an armful of cardamom and pistachio pastries for two silver coins and a smile.

All things considered—the gnolls, the fool bandits, the gods-be-twice-fucked weather—Molly couldn’t complain.”

It's their first night in Zadash, and Molly needs to get away. Caleb, unsure of Molly's motives, follows him.

[Less whump and more a character portrait with hints of past whump and trauma, with a copious helping of smut, but I love it, it’s on here, deal with it etc. etc. Honestly, I spent the whole time reading this sighing dreamily with delight at the perfect mix of sexy and Concerning, so like. You know it’s gotta be good.]

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“A puzzled love of the light” by ottertrashpalace [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 16k WIP]

Molly, possibly the most flamboyant queer individual ever to exist, wound up saving the life of a homophobic Christian picketer. It's not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him, but suffice to say that it has long-ranging consequences he did not expect.

[Ymmv on the fic’s conceit (I personally enjoy it tbh), but it’s an enjoyable read with plenty of angst and emotional catharsis, and hints of more to come later...]

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“a lighter in his pocket / a matchbook in his socks” by ScreechTheMighty  (@screechthemighty) [Gen; major spoilers; 11k]

‘and a block full of charred skeletons / closeted, begging to get out’

The ghosts of your past catch up to you eventually. Sometimes, they bring more than just the memories with them.

[Again, unsure if this… technically counts as whump, but there’s enough miserable, stressed, panicking Caleb that I’m going to count it, honestly.]

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“the echo valley” by vandenburg (@momlymauk) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 5k]

Sick from the incessant raining on their way to Shady Creek Run after a job well-done in the Labenda Swamp, Caleb receives some comfort – from Kiri.

[Sickfic!! Sickfic!! Sickfic!!! Also, Kiri being adorable, as an added bonus.]

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“Snow Rise” by AiraKay [Gen; 1k]

Injured and alone, Caleb Widogast takes a moment to contemplate the falling snow and his place in the world.

[Somewhere between character study and whump, but very lovely.]

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“Check the Cards” by Catzgirl (@fenesvir) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

Molly ignores his foresight and everyone suffers for it.

[More from Molly’s PoV as Caleb gets injured, but it’s still a nice fic - very well-written and I love the way the author weaves Molly’s tarot cards into the narrative.]

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“sunset” by aviators (@farfel) [Caleb/Molly; 3.5k]

Caleb brings a trembling hand up, cupping Molly’s cheek and pressing his thumb to his lips, wetting them with his own blood. “Hush, Mollymauk.”

“No. No,” Molly gasps out, hand meeting Caleb’s and grasping around it until both their knuckles turn white. “You’ve never known me to stop speaking my mind when I’m set on it. I’m not about to stop now, even for you.”

[Dreamy sighs about this fic tbh. Lovely Caleb whump, lovely Molly angst, long and difficult recovery, character introspection… hhh.]

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“Scorched Bonds” by Akiko_Natsuko [Caleb/Molly; maybe spoilers?; 8k WIP]

“No!” It comes out as a strangled shout, his chest heaving and breaths coming in frantic pants. Too close, he had come so close to surrendering to the charm and if he had…the flames are roaring in his chest now, reminding him of what he can do, what those whispered words could have made him do.'

When a fight goes wrong and magic ensnares the rest of the Nein, Caleb is left alone, facing his friends… his family… and he's forced to make a choice.

[A lovely mix of whump and angst, with the “having to fight your friends” trope, and some aftercare as an added bonus.]

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“Little Monster” by Lesetoilesfous (@lesetoilesfous) [Gen; 21k]

Nott hasn't been in prison for very long when she gets a cellmate, a human called Caleb.

This story follows the development of an unlikely friendship, and the way it saves two people who'd long since decided to give up on the world.

Or: prison is not the first place Nott imagined she'd find a family, but she isn't complaining.

[A Nott and Caleb meeting fic, with assorted whump and angst and getting out of prison shenanigans. Good, clean straight-up torture for both of them tbh.]

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“My Friend Filthy” by 99BottlesOfBeerOnTheWall [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 21k]

Nott is a goblin with no friends, and nowhere to go. Caleb is a human with no family, and no hope left. They don’t expect each other, but Caleb is empty, and Nott needs something to care for. So they work with the broken pieces.

Together is better.

[Another, slightly longer variation on the above theme - I just love All the ‘Caleb’s in jail and miserable and barely a human’ fics. This one plays especially hard on the ‘barely a human’ bit, which is delightful.]

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“twisting the kaleidoscope behind both my eyes” by confines  (@wholeneinyards) [Gen; maybe mild spoilers?; 5k]

Nott and Caleb meet in jail. They escape together and then they survive together.

[A nice whumpy, angsty backstory elaboration piece.]

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“The Courage and The Fall” by mollymauks [Caleb/Molly; 4k]

Prompt: “Shivering long after everyone else has stopped.” After ending up fighting a battle submerged in a frozen lake, the Mighty Nein strip off in their camp to dry out and warm up. All but one. Content warning: this fic deals quite a lot with scars, if that’s not your cup of tea, maybe avoid.

Teaser: “I’m going to stop you freezing to death, you idiot,” he said simply, hand still extended. Caleb still didn’t move. “Trust me,” Molly murmured, his words only for the darkness and the wizard staring up at him, the firelight glinting on his pale eyes making them look strangely opaque and ghostly. “I should think I’d proved myself quite adept at keeping you alive after all this time.”

Caleb stared at him for another long, thundering heartbeat, then he let a soft laugh huff past his lips. He reached up and grabbed Molly’s forearm, letting him pull him to his feet.

[What kind of whump rec list would this be if I didn’t have a “cuddling for warmth” fic on here…? A terrible one, that’s what.]

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“Süss” by drekkeri (@tragedyboycentral) [Caleb/Molly; 3k]

Caleb was pretty sure he was dead. It was the only logical explanation.

He was drenched in sweat, trembling, and the mere act of thinking for more than two seconds took more effort than he could manage. As he tried to get out of bed he grabbed onto the wall, holding his head as he saw spots of back.

Yeah, he was definitely dead.

[A lovely fic involving diabetic!Caleb’s blood sugar dropping too low and his friends having to work out what’s wrong and help him. Whumpy, plenty of the ‘panicked confused friends’ trope, and with a happy, fluffy ending.]

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“A Lovely Man” by Justanotherfangirl [Caleb/Molly; 1.5k]

Caleb gets injured, and Molly can’t keep his feelings for him a secret any longer.

[Whump, love confessions, bleeding out…? What more could you want from a fic.]

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“Me for You” by MeBeShe (@matt-the-blind-cinnamon-roll) [Caleb/Molly; 5k]

Caleb gets badly wounded when a mission goes awry. Molly uses his Bloodhunter powers to heal him, despite Caleb's protesting.

[Another excellent whumpy character study thing, short and sweet but delightful, fluffy schmoop for an ending.]

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“Another Part of Surviving” by notsoappropro [Caleb/various; 1.5k]

He doesn’t anticipate it, the first time. He’s head to toe in filth, having slept under trees and in city alleyways for an uncountable number of days on Nott and his neverending escape. The grime under Caleb's fingernails is aggressively visible in a clean store he clearly cannot afford to be in as he counts his silver. He only has four, it’s all they have between the two of them, and it’s many coins short for the medicine they need.

[A kinkmeme fill technically, but angsty enough to be included here, just about. A series of vignettes on the times Caleb is forced to prostitute himself.]

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“Hot and Cold” by Emberforge [Gen; 3k]

It was all going well, until it wasn't.

[Caleb gets poisoned, and the team deal with it; mild whump, plenty of aftercare and worrying. Short and sweet.]

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“What Friends Are For” by Justanotherfangirl [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 8k]

It’s been a long time since Caleb had any friends, since he had deserved to have any friends. But with the Mighty Nein, he found himself caring almost in spite of himself. And the Mighty Nein might just care about him too.

[A lovely collection of drabbles exploring Caleb’s relationship with the other members of the Nein, through the medium of whump and comfort/care.]

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“Here with You” by Akiko_Natsuko [Caleb/Molly; 1.7k]

It was a terrible plan from the start, but it was the only one they had. Fortunately Molly and Caleb were together, and that might just be enough in the face of a situation that brings the past pressing in on them.

[Less physical whump and more delicious descriptions of panic and misery, which imho count as whump / give me the same whump feels as physical whump does. Also, Caleb locked in a cell!]

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“Dominate Person is Never Really A Good Time” by sterphfy [Gen; 4.5k]

The title kind of sums it up. Some angst, some implied Molly/Caleb, but painfully little physical contact. probably done, but may write a companion later.

[More fun with mind control and hurting friends! I’m predictable in the tropes I like.]

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“bruises and comfort” by vannral (@vannral) [Caleb/Fjord; 643]

After a random battle, Caleb's less than fine and Fjord's there, helping.

[Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin - Caleb’s hurt, Fjord looks after him and comfort him. Short, satisfying, sweet.]

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“Hidden and New” by Avorna [Caleb/Nott; 3k]

Fighting a horde illithid is well above their job description.

In the midst of battle, Caleb is caught by a desperate illithid and it decides to play with his more well kept memories.

[On here primarily for the first half, where Caleb nearly gets his brain eaten, and gets thoughts and memories he wants to keep secret broadcast to the MN - which is always a good time.]

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“Storm After the Calm” by UzbekistanRules [Gen; major spoilers; 1.5k]

Caleb deserves nothing. Or... so he thinks.

[More self-loathing and emotional h/c than whump, but some nice mentions of past whump and tbh panic attacks probably count as whump? The aftercare in this is also very lovely.]

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“What Was, What Is” by lostsometime [Gen; mild spoilers; 1k]

Caleb would have been able to stop himself from causing collateral damage with his spells, once. He can't now.

[Again, more angst than whump; again, I like it enough to include it here, and also panic attacks / dissociation totally do count as whump in some circumstances tbh.]

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“Fever Dream” by Chaya (@fieldbears) [Gen; major spoilers; 245]

Someone asked for either Caleb or Molly to be delirious with fever. This is probably the least creatively titled thing I have put up in a while, but at least there's plenty of angst?

[Honourable mention, as it’s a very short little drabble - but what there is of it is delicious, so I couldn’t leave it off.]

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“Feeblemind” by Chaya (@fieldbears) [Caleb/Molly; spoilers; 13k WIP]

There are some ugly spells out there. Sometimes you just have to do your best to get through it.

[Fun times with the feeblemind spell, and then the emotional fallout from that for the whole group. Bonus Molly angst too, which is always nice! May or may not have been abandoned, but what’s there is somewhat complete in and of itself, so...]

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“Under His Gaze” by EllenofX [Gen; maybe spoilers?; 4k WIP]

Caleb is a smart man. It is a fact that he is more cautious of now, with how far astray it once led him, but one that is undeniable. So, when a stranger wakes them in the dead of night, it does not take him long to figure out that he and his companions are being toyed with. That they have been toyed with for quite a while, now.

[Another ‘is it abandoned?’ fic - essentially a variation on the theme of ‘Travelling Hearts’ recced above. First chapter seems pretty whumpy though, so fingers crossed it continues!]

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“Our Early Days Are Always With Us” by sandssavvy (@sandssavvy) [Gen; major spoilers; 8k WIP]

Sometimes the past won't let you rest.

After a run in with Trent, Caleb isn't sure he will ever find rest again.

[Again, unsure if this has been abandoned?? It’s not terribly whumpy as-is, mostly angst, but if it’s not on permanent hiatus then it should get whumpy…]

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Lastly (and shamelessly), I’m gonna plug my own writing here. The only whumpy fic I’ve written for Caleb is “lesser of two evils” [Gen; 2.4k]:

Caleb’s running a fever by the time the rest of the Mighty Nein find him.

He was expecting that much – he’s done this before, after all, knows that it’s a bad idea and will not go well in the long run. However, bleeding out in the middle of a forest is also not a good idea, and will also not go well in the long run. The difference is that bleeding out in the middle of a forest will go exceptionally poorly in the short run, so it’s a lesser-of-two evils sort of thing. He’s well-versed in Faustian bargains, made both unwittingly and otherwise. It’s fine.

(In which Caleb gets separated from the rest of the group, and then injured, and then some rather ill-advised DIY field medicine involving fire. The rest of the Mighty Nein are left to pick up the pieces when they find him.)

However, I’ve got other whumpy tidbits and headcanons under my general #critrole 2.0 tag (though my blog / that tag frequently contain nsfw or triggering material, as a heads-up).

[pinkletterday]

Writer's Year In Review

This year has been a revelation. I went from deeply, irrevocably believing I can't write fiction at all to knowing that I'm actually pretty good at it!

It's given me the confidence to find work as a freelance writer and editor in real life, after years of unemployment and anxious paralysis resulting from chronic illness and trauma. A lot of other factors also helped but the fic writing played a huge role in getting my shit together.

General Fic Stats:

Word Count on AO3: 92284

Fics posted to AO3: 23

Favourite Fic:

Kiss It Better (Westallen).This fic is my baby. I love little Iris and little Barry in it so much, the hurt and confusion in each other they attempted to heal, how that healing carried into their adult love and family. It will always and always be my favourite thing I have ever written. Wee!stallen is my jam, and the reason I ship them so damn hard.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). Ngl, I love this for the sheer amount of truly gratifying comments. Every single one of them have been emotional and flaily. It all makes me feel like I may have finally levelled up. Hallelujah. xD

Funniest Fic:

The Care and Feeding (Queenwestallen). This is my ultimate OT3. This fic, written as a list and discussion is 95% humour and contains some of my best banter and (I feel) characterization. An element I'm really proud of is how I managed to center and include all their important non-romantic relationships in their conversations. Iris's boisterous female friends, Oliver's friends, Cisco and Caitlin's snarky commentary all shoehorned themselves into the list with hilarious and wholesome results. 

It's not a popular OT3 but I feel like it's a good first attempt to drag this ship to water. xD

Cutest Fic:

Dancing Queen (Olivarry). Even after a year this contiues to be the fic with the highest kudos ratio (except for the more recent one) and the second most bookmarked. I love getting comments on this because they are all some variation of "my teeth hurt. I have diabetes!" xD Well, I did build it around a rainbow sprinkle icing sugar donut, but there is a significant dollop of angst there in the middle. A flangst donut.

Your Vigil In My Keeping (Westallen). This fic has less than 200 hits but has the highest kudos ratio of all. I guess kid fic isn't everyone's cup of tea, but Wee!stallen is cute af yo. I headcanon the origins of Barry and Iris's steadfast partnership in this story, where her faith and belief in him is as strong as his protectiveness of her, all tied up in the language and innocence of children.

Kinkiest Fic:

WA Smut and Kink Collection. I literally just posted this yesterday lol. So far it's just a face-sitting short, but I have quite a few hard and soft kinks lined up. Westallen needs more hard smut tbh, and they have such a unique powerfully loving dynamic that every kink I'm writing has required me to come at it a little bit sideways with a whole lot of emotional focus.

Saddest Fic:

Three fics I can't choose from.

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). This is basically Iris's grief and fear in a raging tempest, and it's strongly implied that the future Nora has warned them of will come to pass regardless of what they do. The fact is that there already is and will be a timeline where Iris loses Barry, just as there must be one where she won't, because that is the nature of potentiality. 

The Paradigm of Uncertainty (Westallen). This was a drabble almost, that ruminates on the probability that speedsters do not erase timelines but abandon them, along those versions of their loved ones. It's as @rkwago's brilliant comment says: "Iris hurts in so many weird, cosmic ways that her life is almost an eldritch horror house," which is the most perfect description ever of what it means to be a time traveller's wife.

The Universal Constant (Gen, background WA). A lot of people find the way Barry goes off on Joe cathartic in this fic, and so do I. But it's not so simple. I don't think Joe was wrong to form the views he did, or that anyone was in the wrong really. As @sophiainspace pointed out, it's a mediation of grief and love, their parallels and continuations between parents and children and lovers. The fact that it takes Henry's death for Barry to find the adult language to articulate to Joe why he will always believe in his father's innocence is a tragedy that cuts three ways.

(This fic is also the reason I have a folder in my drive marked "how to get away with murder" and probably a likely reason to get me arrested one day. xD)

Most Popular Fic:

Strangers In The Cold (Coldflash). The Coldflash fandom is a joy to feed. This was my first smut fic which was preceded by an entire chapter of banter about nothing in particular (except it ended up establishing a background that gave birth to the Coldflash vs Olivarry polyam series) And holy wow, for a newbie writer, the response has been amazing. Looking back, I wince at a lot of writing mistakes and its undeniably rough, but it really bolstered my confidence.

(I feel a little guilty that all my other CF stories are still in my WiP folder while I update the polyam series at snail's pace.)

The Shape of Us (Westallen). I wrote this on tumblr half-asleep one night, half as a rambly headcanon...and woke up to literally one hundred freaking notes. What the hell. Now at over 260, it's the most popular fic I've ever posted on tumblr.

I never consciously intended it to be a body-positivity fic but apparently women really relate to the insecurities of growing older and watching our bodies change with marriage, children and the sheer hectic pace of life. Even my non-fandom friends reblogged it simply for its representation of "real women". Barry's response is my own wish fulfillment fantasy; the sort of total acceptance and validation that we wish we could hear it the times we can't find it in ourselves. In light of the virulent body-shaming Candice Patton has been subjected to ever since she was revealed to have gained a fuller figure in S5, I'm very glad to have written it.

Least Popular Fic:

Carry On (Gen) This character study of Oliver Queen only has 135 hits a year after posting, which is par for the course with gen. But has a solid 12% kudos ratio, which means it's probably as good as I think it is. It's one of my favourite and easiest fics I have ever written.

Love Me Like You Do (Olivarry) Lordy, if my first Coldflash smut filled me with confidence, my first Olivarry smutfic all but ruined it. I struggled with it for a long time, unlike SitC, which I suppose shows in the over-descriptions. I got carried away with the quipping and I guess Barry topping at all is really not popular with slash fans?

Still, I'm honestly toying with the idea of deleting and rewriting it. At least it was a learning experience - don't write smut unless it makes you feel horny yourself.  

Most Challenging Fic:

Do Not Go Gentle (Westallen). I think the reason stories you knock off in two hours are instantly popular while the ones you slaved over for weeks barely get any attention is because the process is reflected in the ease of reading. But this one is an exception. It was an absolute monster, taking three weeks and several revisions to wrestle into submission - and it paid off in spades!  Going by the response, I seem to have achieved the wow factor I was going for.

My only regret is that I posted it on tumblr before the last revision that finally made it work, so that too many readers saw the lacklustre version rather than the polished one.

Honorable Mention:

A Stitch In Time (Olivarry for now, eventual Queenwestallen) Baby's first multi-chapter! Admittedly chapters 3 and 4 have been languishing in my drive for a few months now and this thing has 100% more deleted scenes and outtakes posted to my tumblr than the actual story on AO3. But I'm so proud of it! I learned to write action scenes because of it, how to write climaxes, dream sequences, news articles and tell a story in several different formats. It made me rediscover my empathy for Felicity and write her as a PoV character, think deeply on Laurel Lance's losses and give voice to her struggles, and explore how a real friendship and understanding could evolve between Oliver and Iris out of their mutual love for Barry. (Centering female characters within manpain narratives, ftw! Otoh, I centered Iris so much it veered off the Olivarry rails into Queenwestallen territory on its own)

There is so much meaty conflict and delicious looming disaster in this story that I'm determined going to keep at it, even if slow and steady. If only to bring the light of Barry/Iris/Oliver into the world. xD

Holding On (Olivarry). This real-world disability AU deals with chronic and mental illness and the precariousness and personal demons of that reality. I tore out the rawest parts of my life for this fic and put them on display so that I couldn't bear to show it to anyone for a year after it was written.

I'm very glad I did finally brush it off and put it up because it has struck a chord with so many people, especially other Spoonies. The low number of hits on a fic that deals in hurt/comfort rather stings, as I can't help but think the disinterest is because of the "disability" and "neurodivergence" tags. But I still think it's one of the best things I've written and one I'll always be proudest of.

General Reflections:

Things I've learned over the past year of writing:

- Self-deprecation is not my friend. I need to be honest enough with myself to acknowledge when my writing is good, because either I self-validate and build confidence or I become a black hole of insecurity where validation goes to die. And if I think I'm a bit better than I actually am, it's not just okay but necessary to believe it.

- What I call writer's block is perfectionism, anxiety and physical and mental fatigue. If I don't eat, sleep, hydrate and acheive a relaxed mental state, I won't be able to write. 

- Momentum is more my friend than any amount of inspiration and motivation. Sitting my ass down and make it a habit to churn out X number of words a day, even bad writing, will do more to help me than polishing an idea to a high shine. 

- If I don't forgive myself for the stories I can't write I'll never write anything. I am doing this for free, to share the love and joy and therefore obligated to no one. 

- I'm capable of writing things I don't have the first idea how to write. My fingers on a keyboard can paint the picture my brain can't visualize. 

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but I am going to make it a personal goal to write at least 15k words per month, learn to stick to a posting schedule where possible.  and end next year with an additional 150k words posted. 

To everyone who follows this blog, commented, reblogged and liked my posts - I see and remember and appreciate every one of you. You're the reason I feel seen and valued and why I am motivated to keep writing through all the difficulties life throws at me. <3<3<3

[gffa]

hi sunshine

(cont.) enjoy what we find ourselves liking without getting hate and being proclaimed horrible people?? personally, i really enjoy their dynamic so much, beyond the romance, bc there’s so much there and i think there’s no one who better understands them than each other and god knows no one sane ships them when anakin’s a /child/ but !!!! the hate!!! it just gets overwhelming sometimes and makes me wonder idk i kinda went off on a rampage thank u for listening i hope u have a great day

Hello, dear!  A lot of this depends on how the person being asked feels versus the intention behind the ask versus what’s a good faith or bad faith discussion.  If it’s a bad faith discussion–ie, if the person asking is only there to be an asshole, who isn’t really interested in your answer–my response is pretty much, “[posts a gif of the elevator scene] YEAH I DON’T KNOW WHERE I GET THAT IDEA FROM.” because they’re not looking for an answer and I don’t need to justify one.But if someone is looking for an honest answer and is genuinely open to listening to others (which can be very hard to determine sometimes!) then I would say that, FIRST OF ALL, they’re fictional characters and we’re here to have fun, it’s not that serious.  Nobody deserves hate for which fictional characters they ship!SECOND, they’re adults and we actually get to see them age out of the Master/Padawan relationship.  We get to see Obi-Wan respect Anakin’s boundaries.  We get to see them interact as peers and best friends, rather than only just as teacher/student.  We see that dynamic right in front of us and so saying that they can never be shipped because Obi-Wan was his teacher deliberately ignores that Anakin SURE FEELS JUST FINE SPEAKING  UP WHENEVER HE WANTS.  It’s fine if someone doesn’t want to ship the two of them for themselves because of this!  If someone out there feels, oh, they were teacher and student or feels that they can only see the two as father and son, those are perfectly valid interpretations for those people!  They are just as right as someone who ships Obi-Wan and Anakin!Shipping fictional characters is about us, not about the idea that Obi-Wan and Anakin are real people, and that means exploring the aspects of them that we are interested in and speak to us.  That’s the ultimate point of anything in fiction–to make us feel things, to make us think about things, to give us tools to examine ourselves individually, to explore ideas in a place that’s not the real world, to give us something that satisfies us, to just have fun with.  And if that means you want to explore some fluffy Obikin smooching fic or kinky sexy fic or wrenching heartache fic or fixing all the problems of the GFFA fic, that is what fiction is for.But what you’re asking about is people who give others shit about what they like and, honestly, the real truth is that you’re probably never going to be able to convince them.  George Lucas or Dave Filoni themselves could come knock on our doors and tell us Obi-Wan/Anakin romantic feelings were canon and many antis would still be angry about it and say how wrong it is and hate on anyone who shipped them.  You cannot convince other people who don’t actually want to change their minds, there’s no magic combination to unlock what some have already decided is inherently wrong.  We can only decide for ourselves what we like and what we want to interact with others on.I can quote a dozen moments from the movies, tv shows, books, comics, games, and interviews that put Obikin in a romantic light, there’s no shortage of stuff that lends itself to them as a pairing!  I can (and probably have orz) write multiple essays on how so much of the galaxy’s fate is founded on Anakin’s relationship with Obi-Wan!  I can write more essays about their dynamic, how they really know each other better than anyone, that that’s the whole point of that fight in ROTS, that nobody knows these two as well as each other, that Obi-Wan has loved many people, but Anakin has always been the great love of his life, that Anakin’s choices hurt because of what they do to Obi-Wan just as much as what they do to Padme and Luke and Leia.  That they have defined each others’ lives!But it’s never going to matter to someone who doesn’t want to see them as a valid choice for someone else. And you have to decide for yourself if you want to continue being around those friends, if they’ll still be your friends if you talk publicly about what you like, or if you need to make a separate blog to interact with fans or even just lurk quietly in Obikin fandom.  All of those options are fine for what you yourself need!  If you feel you can’t openly join us, I’m sorry to not be able to interact with you, but I understand!  If you come to us under a different blog name, WELCOME!  If you openly join us, there’s a lot of really fun stuff going on around here, I hope you have fun with  us!!  And, honestly, I find that Obikin hate isn’t nearly as bad as it sometimes seems–maybe it’s just because I’ve blocked the worst people or because I don’t read people who hate it, but I almost never see it and I almost never get any anons telling me horrible things for it.  It might be different where you are and I don’t know the people you hang out with, they might give you hate for it.  But just generally hanging out in this corner, I don’t see much of it anymore!And I’m very, very much with you.  One of the reasons I ship them so hard is because I love their dynamic beyond just wanting them to smooch–honestly, my very favorite fic in this fandom is one where they aren’t even meant to be a pairing, but instead it nails the dynamic between them so well that I don’t care I JUST WANT THEM TO BE TOGETHER, I JUST WANT THEM TO BE IN EACH OTHERS’ LIVES.I love them because they know each other better than anyone, because they run the gamut of dynamics, that they can be cute and happy and hilarious but they can also be angry and heartbreaking and hurtful.  I am a sucker for pairings that explore a whole array of what’s between two characters, from happy to sad, from hilarious to heartbreaking, and Obikin has that in spades.  I’m also a sucker for pairings that have wildly great chemistry, which they do in everything I have ever seen them in, they always spark off each other and they have all these delicious issues to explore, there’s such incredible love there that can never be burnt all the way down, no matter how hard Anakin tries, and sometimes that means I want to explore Anakin’s d/s kink and sometimes that means I just want time travel fluffy fix it fic where they never even smooch and EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.  ♥__♥