#if you tag this as ship i will come to your house and beat you to death with a baseball bat scout t.f2 style. this has been a psa

[cinema-wasps]

If you don't mind you should draw ollie and rabdy being buddies pals even!

those pony bitches weren't lying friendship really is magic

[drawing reqs open !]

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Seed [Pero Tovar x f!reader]

Read on AO3

Now with a sequel: Sprout

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Tags/warnings: breeding kink from here to high heaven, fear of infertility, lots of piv sex and creampies, multiple orgasms, fingering, pero eats it from the back, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names.

Words: 4,022

Summary: Your husband Pero comes home to put a baby in you. Don't look at me.

The smell of fresh-caught fish mixes with the salty breeze from the sea, and the sweet scent of oranges. You carry your basket through the marketplace, grocery shopping done, when you hear a call from the crowd: "They're back!"

Your heart skips a beat as you swing around, your skirt dancing around your ankles as you see the trade caravan coming down the main street to the marketplace. Your eyes scan the faces, quickly finding the one you are hoping to see.

Your husband, Pero.

Since marrying you and settling in this quiet small town by the sea, he no longer sells his sword to warlords and kings. Instead, he provides protection for caravans. He is mostly away for a week or two at a time, but this time he has been away for months. You have carried your worry and longing stoically, never showing your neighbours your fear, but now you do not care if everybody sees the relief and happiness on your face. You are not the only one with a husband in the caravan, but you are the only one whose husband wields a weapon for a living.

Pero spots you from afar, and he urges his horse into a trot. The clip-clop of the shoed hooves against the cobblestones is the sweetest music you have heard in a long time. You stand still, a smile on your lips, and put the basket down when Pero swings down from horseback, pulls you to him, and wraps his strong arms around you.

"Wife," he murmurs into your hair. "My precious wife."

Your arms reach around his armoured middle as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of the road: dust, sweat, and grime, but you do not care. Underneath all that, you can smell him: horse, hay, earth, metal, spices. You cannot wait to drown in him.

Slowly, Pero strokes your head, making you look at him. You cup his cheek, feeling the stubble that renders his face darker than usual, and unevens the moustache.

"Are you unharmed?" you want to know. He nods slowly.

"Mad from missing you, but not a scratch on me."

He touches his lips to yours, just a gentle little return kiss from an absent husband to his beloved wife, but you know that as soon as you are behind closed doors, he is going to devour you.

"Let's go home," you suggest, enjoying the way your husband's beautiful brown eyes melt into dark liquid.

He helps you up on the horse and mounts behind you. Your basket securely in front of you and Pero sliding one arm around your waist to hold you close, he steers the horse homeward with his other hand. He does not speak as you leave the marketplace, and he does not need to. The two of you always found each other's silences comfortable. Besides, no words are needed to let you know he wants you: his cock is growing hard against the soft roundness of your ass pushing against it. A shiver runs down your spine and ends up on a blossoming pool of arousal between your thighs. Your hand finds Pero's on your waist, fingers disappearing between his in a loving clasp.

You reach your little house, Pero dismounting first so that you can slide off the horse and into his arms. He holds you close again, now with a full erection pressing against you.

"Go inside," he murmurs. "I have to put the horse away."

You push your pelvis against him, smirking at his low groan, before you take the basket and go in. You have barely emptied the basket onto the kitchen table before Pero comes in, kicking the door close as he starts to unlace his breeches.

He takes you on the table, breeches undone just enough to let his cock out, your skirts pulled up to your waist to let him in. A frantic coupling where you exchange breathless moans, claw at each other's bodies through clothes, his cock pressing deep into you as his fingers plant blooming bruises on your thighs. He spills into you before long, cock twitching in the welcoming squeeze of your cunt, and lowers his forehead to yours as he catches his breath. You comb your fingers through his dark hair, curling at the nape of his neck. The amount of silver has increased, scattered like stars across the dark clouds of his soft hair. You kiss the scar over his left eye, both above and under his closed eyelid.

"You need a haircut," you mumble, despite not really wanting him to cut off the soft curls. "And a shave."

"I need you." His initial thirst for you may have been slaked, but his hunger is not sated, and neither is yours.

"You have me now."

He straightens his back and rolls his head, a joint cracking loudly. Slowly, you come down from the table and start to lace up the bindings of his armour. He watches you do it, pulling the bodice of your dress down your shoulders and caresses the exposed skin, stares into your cleavage.

"Wife," he demands, hand on your waist, "Are you with child yet?"

You cast your eyes down. You have been trying to have a child since you were wed. The attraction between the two of you was always there, and pleasure has always been an important part of your married life - before as well, even if he never put it in before you were wed - but there has always been another motive to your coupling as well. You both want a child, several, but one to start with. He takes every opportunity to sow his seed in you, and you welcome every attempt.

But so far, it has not taken.

"My love." Pero caresses your head. "We have time. We will try again."

He kisses your cheek, and leans in towards your ear, his breath hot when he whispers: "And again... and again... and again..."

A husky giggle escapes you and you wrap your arms around his neck as you seek his lips for a kiss. He lifts you up, skirts rustling, and carries you to bed. The kisses turn slower as you undress each other, hands reclaiming every bit of revealed skin. His hard muscles relax when you pass your palm over them, fingers chasing his old familiar scars to trace and love. His hands are dry and callused when he cups your soft breasts, but he still holds you gently. His unshaved face tickles your stomach when he trails kisses over it, but your giggles turn to moans when he buries his face between your thighs, tongue probing between slick lips where his precious seed is dripping out. He assaults your clit, has you thrashing and wailing his name until the sheets are crumpled and you are shaking with the intensity of your release. He rests his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with both a satisfied smirk and adoring eyes.

"That's my girl," he praises you softly. "Let the neighbours know that your husband is home."

You chuckle breathlessly. Your cunt is throbbing hotly, and you pass your hands over your face before reaching for Pero.

"Come to me, husband."

He crawls over you, hissing softly when you close your hand over his cock, and guide it into you. It slides in so easily, but still fills you up so perfectly.

"Oh..." you gasp, eyes falling shut as you bite down on your lower lip. "Pero..."

"I know, precious, I know... but you have to look at me."

He cups your face and kisses you, and when he pulls back, you open your eyes, only to drown in the dark pools of his.

"I want you to look at me when I fill you with my seed," he growls, fingers tangling in your hair. "Look at me when I fuck a baby into you."

His voice is strangled, his hips grind tightly against yours. It is slower now than that first, hurried time, but still intense, desperate in a whole new way. You are hypnotized by him, his presence, his weight on top of you, his cock ravaging your very womb, his low voice that always knows just how to drop to make you wet, that scarred gaze of his that scowls at everyone else but turns soft and vulnerable when directed at you.

"Breed me," you whisper, hooking your ankles together behind his back. "Breed me, husband, I need you to breed me."

He stutters as he fucks you harder, digging deep into you, finding your spot, and staying on it as your moans rise.

"Pero, oh, God, please don't stop!"

He lets you cum first, fucks you through it before driving himself as deep as he can, then staying there. You whimper his name, your cunt convulses, and you can barely breathe, but Pero stays where he is.

"Take it," he soothes you through clenched teeth. "Take it, wife, every last drop, and grow me a baby."

"I love you," you manage to whisper, the words drowning in his mouth when he kisses you.

"And I love you."

Dinner is forgotten, as are the chickens and the horse. Pero slumbers in your arms but wakes up when you take his soft cock in your mouth. You rest together, until he has to be inside you again. Not until dusk settles around the house do you rise to take in and feed the chickens. Pero takes care of the horse, and you prepare dinner. He comes in and finds you by the workbench, cutting up cheese and smoked meat, and immediately cages you against the bench, arms sneaking around your waist as he kisses your neck.

"Pero, I'm holding a knife," you smile, and he immediately closes his hand over yours, guiding it to put the knife down. You hear his stomach growl, and know that if you are hungry, he must be starving.

"Dinner is almost ready."

"Only hungry for you, my love..."

You turn your face to his and receive his kisses, sighing softly at his roaming hands, one finding your breast only covered by your camisole, the other cupping your mound through the fabric of the underskirt. Your cunt weeps to have him again, while stinging from overstimulation. You lost count of how many times you have taken him this afternoon.

"Pero," you whisper between the kisses, your hands finding his and pressing down, in direct opposition to your words. "We need to eat, and you need a bath."

He expresses his discontent with a guttural grunt but gives you one last kiss and squeeze before releasing you.

"Sit down," you gesture towards the table, but he lays out cutlery, plates, and knives for both of you before taking his seat. When you bring the tray of foods to the table, he does not take his eyes off you. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks because you know exactly what he is thinking when he sees your soft breasts spill out of your camisole, the roundness of your ass underneath the threadbare skirt when you bend over to pour him ale. He smirks at you when you catch his gaze, and you shove him gently with your hip.

"Eat."

You take your seat on the other side of the table and eat in a comfortable silence as darkness descends outside. The sounds of your small town die down, only the occasional call of an animal drifting in through the open window together with the cool breeze.

You clear the table afterwards, Pero watching you in quiet contentment. When brushing past him, he cannot keep his hands to himself, but slaps your ass and grins when you yelp and turn around to tell him off. You find yourself pulled down onto his lap instead, Pero nuzzling your neck as he holds you close.

"Thank you for the meal."

"You are very welcome."

His whiskers scratch your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, drags his lips down to your breasts while his hand gathers the fabric of your skirt so that he can slip underneath. His fingers find the messy apex of your thighs, his seed and your slick drying on your lips, and when he pushes his fingers inside you, your head falls back as you moan low in your throat.

"Pero... oh, oh, there, oh my God... I can't..."

"If you're too sore, tell me, and I will stop," he whispers hotly against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You shake your head, a sob of abandon slipping you.

"More, my love, more."

He brings you to the edge with his fingers, skilfully and quickly, before pushing you over it, catching you in his strong arms when you fall with a wail against his chest.

"Beautiful," he murmurs as he strokes your back, "so beautiful, my pretty girl..."

The night comes on, and Pero brings in water that you warm on the stove, for him to finally pour into the tub where you have spread out dried herbs and flowers. When he sinks down into the warm water, you take a sponge and a piece of scented soap and scrub every inch of him. He relaxes into the water, eyes finally falling shut, as you rub his body down with small, round circles. He leans into your touch with a sigh filled with gratitude and love. Pero is a man who desperately needs softness in his life, the life he always thought would be cut short due to his choice of profession. No wonder he has such a strong need to have children, see part of himself in a tiny face, foster a new generation to carry on his name after he is gone. And you desperately want to give him that.

"Pero," you speak quietly, getting a hum in return. "What if I cannot bear children?"

He does not react at first, but as soon as your words make sense to him, he turns his head to look at you.

"Why would you say that?"

"We have tried, and I'm not pregnant."

"We haven't been married for a year."

"For some, it takes immediately."

"Not for all."

The open window brings in the scents of your garden: evening primrose, wisteria, moonflower, jasmine, and whiffs of herbs rises from the water to meet them. You cast your eyes down to the soap in your hands, and Pero raises a hand from the water, and gently places it on your shoulder.

"My love. We have time."

You nod, knowing he is right. But you still cannot shake the feeling that you have carried around since he left, and your monthly cleansing arrived.

"The wives in town say things."

"What do they say?"

You wet your lips and raise your gaze to meet his. "They say that men who sleep with whores during their trips soil their seed."

Pero's face remains calm and honest. "I have not as much as looked at another woman since I met you. I hope you know that."

"I do, I just..." You shake your head, unsure why you even brought it up. You have never doubted his faithfulness. "I'm sorry. Their words ring in my ears, I can't stop thinking about it."

"Why do you even listen to those old hags?" he shakes his head.

"Because I meet them every day, and they talk, and they know things, and they look at me like I'm a prized cow, all of them waiting for me to become pregnant."

"It's none of their business," Pero scoffs, but his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

"They also say... that older women are less fertile."

"You are fertile," he immediately dismisses your fear and self-doubt. "You still bleed."

"But if I'm too old?"

Pero sits up straight in the tub, the other hand coming to your other shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

"You are my wife and my love. I want us to have children, but if we for some reason are not to be blessed with them, my love for you will not change."

"I know," you smile softly, "and I will love you too." Tears rise in your eyes, and you wipe at them with the back of your hand. "Forgive me. I just missed you so much."

"You have nothing to apologize for, my love."

You lean forward to kiss him, but when his lips start to trail across your cheek, you giggle and shake your head.

"You, Pero Tovar, need a shave, or you'll grate me raw!"

He stays completely still as you trace his cheeks with the razorblade, eyes under heavy eyelids following your minuscule movements. The hint of a smile plays in the corner of his mouth as he enjoys how your steady hand shaves away the itchy bristles. Finally, you trim his moustache, then his hair. The water grows cool, and he rises from the tub, accepting your hand when he steps out of it. His cock is striving proudly towards his stomach, and he does not take the time to dry himself before lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He sets you down next to the bed and cradles your head in his big hands.

"How do you want me, my beloved?"

You caress his smooth cheeks, stroke your thumbs over his eyebrows, still wet from the bath.

"From behind, husband. I want you to mount me like an animal."

"Your wish is my command."

His hands drop to your shoulders, where they guide you to turn around before caressing down the straps of your camisole. You undo the lacing in the front, and the neckline widens enough to drop and expose your breasts. He cups them from behind, thumbs brushing over stiffening nipples, soft lips peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder. His cock strains against the fabric of your skirt, and he drops his hands to your hips, finding the laces that will free you from the garment. It rustles softly as it falls to the floor, and Pero's hard cock comes to a rest between your ass cheeks. Your cunt clenches and you can smell your own arousal.

"Take me," you breathe, but Pero grazes your shoulder with his teeth.

"I need to service you first."

He kneels behind you, one hand pushing lightly on your lower back. You bend over, upper body coming to a rest on the crumpled sheets. Pero's hand slowly slides down to your ass, cupping and squeezing, before he slides his fingers between your thighs, carefully pushing your legs open. He fingers you almost thoughtfully before you feel the tip of his sharp nose, and his hot breath on you, and then his lips close around your bud in a little kiss before his tongue takes over. He licks at you, into you, hands coming to grab your soft thighs, humming into your aching cunt. You can barely take it anymore, not after the pleasures of the afternoon, but your husband's touch always makes you need more. Like a bitch in heat, you egg him on, writhe and fist your hands into the sheet, loudly moaning without any thought of the neighbours. He brings you to bliss, once again, pushing his face against you, fingers digging painfully into your ass cheeks as you shake through your orgasm. He helps you up on the bed, letting you rest on your belly, and kisses your shoulders, back, and the soft curves of your buttocks before coming back up to steal your breath away with a wet kiss.

"My beautiful wife," he murmurs, and you smile back faintly. "Can you take me?"

"You know I can," you murmur, already feeling his rock-hard cock pressing in between your thighs. "Take me, husband. Breed me. Put a baby in my belly."

He growls at that, bites your neck, pulls your ass up, and legs together before straddling them. You whine when he pushes into you, your dripping yet sore cunt protesting and welcoming at the same time.

"So wet for me," he groans as he slowly moves in you, hands on your hips. "My love, I thought about this so often during those lonely nights on the road." He sinks deep into you. "I would fuck my own hand and think of you." He thrusts his hips into yours, making you choke on your own breath. "I would spill my seed on the ground and mourn its loss. It shouldn't be wasted but find its way into your fertile womb..."

He lays down over you, pressing your hips down with his as he wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear: "I would think of you becoming round with my child, your tits filling with milk, how proud and beautiful you would look on my arm when we go to the marketplace together. How I would fuck you every night to make sure the child grows big and strong..."

You sob with desire, delirious from his words and the way he fills you up. All you can do is wrap your own arms around his, take his cock with your encouraging whimpers, and let him kiss what breath you still have away.

He takes his time fucking you slowly, his warm body growing hot from the effort, hips grinding into you so deep that you'll surely be bruised in the morning, all the while whispering filthy things in your ear, keeping you on the brink of insanity until you find yourself cumming yet again, and this time the tears come as well, it's all too much and still not enough, you want all of him in you, and you want him to fill your womb, you need it.

"My good wife," he praises you for climaxing, "Cumming on my cock like that, preparing your wet little cunt for my seed. Take it, my love, take it, I don't have long."

"Breed me," you manage to articulate, "put a baby in my belly, Pero, I love you, now breed me, fuck me like an animal and make me pregnant!"

He growls into your ear and props himself up onto one forearm before heeding your wish. You cry out when he drives himself into you, again and again, until you feel the wet heat spill inside you. A low, rumbling growl rises from deep within him, and he thrusts into you, all the way in, as deep as he can go, and stays there, panting heavily. You can hardly take it, you're too full, but you still push back as if he could go any deeper, and you squeeze him tightly to get every last drop out of him.

He finally collapses by your side, cock slipping out, one arm and leg thrown over you. Silence descends over your wheezing, sweaty bodies - yours slick from his perspiration. Finally, Pero groans, and kisses your shoulder.

"Are you still in one piece, my love?"

"Barely," you murmur, exhausted and deeply in love.

"Will you let me tuck you in?"

You gripe but shift so that Pero can pull away the covers. Your head hits the pillow with a deep sigh that changes to a yelp when Pero slaps your ass.

"Move. You've been sleeping alone for too long, you have started to take up too much space."

You scoot over to one side, and Pero gets in behind you. Moulding himself to you, he kisses your shoulder again.

"If I get pregnant, I'll get fat and take up even more space," you point out with a yawn.

"When you get pregnant, I'll worship every inch of your beautiful body, wife," he promises you. "Now, legs together. Don't want my seed to stain anything but your thighs."

Your hand finds his under the covers.

"I'm so glad you're home."

"I'm very glad to be home."

His hand comes to a rest on your lower abdomen, spreading a faint tingle deep inside. You smile to yourself, and then sleep claims you.

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 11

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, SMUT

Chapter Length: 6K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

You stare at the door for a long time after it closes. 

When the shock starts to wear off, the regret seeps in. There's so much more you should have asked him; so much you should have told him. Instead of almost silently accepting the end of your friendship, why hadn't you tried to make him slow down and talk to you?

Your eyes drift downward as you feel the truth settle into the pit of your stomach: You'd known as well as he had, saying anything more would only have led to further pain.

As you turn away, your blank gaze slides from the door and falls to the small table nearby. On top of the table, you keep a little bowl with trinkets and a few scrap pieces for your speeder bike. Beside these items sits a heap of cloth, which you don't recognize. You draw nearer, noticing that it's wrapped neatly around a cylindrical object. Picking it up and pulling back the cloth, you're taken aback to see the hilt of a lightsaber. Your lightsaber. 

You slide it out of the fabric, feeling the weight of it in your hand for a moment, then place it delicately down on the tabletop just to stare at it. 

You'd been facing Dooku when you'd lost it, completely on the opposite side of the outpost from where you'd been rescued. He would have been the only one there to retrieve it. And yet, he'd told you at that time he'd believed you were dead. 

Your chest suddenly aches. 

You tell yourself not to think about him, fleeing for his own life, half-dead himself, but stopping to pick up the only remnant he'd thought he would have of your existence.

Facing away from the table, you shut your eyes and do the same thing you've been doing for the past two days - immersing yourself in the force with a fervent determination you've never known before.

Your eyes flutter open again. You look out the window. The snow whirls. 

Despite your better judgment - despite the fact that you know he'll feel it - you reach into the force and try to sense him. His speeder should be halfway back to base by now. You might not sense him at all. But you want to try.

To your immense surprise, you feel him instantly, his presence not halfway back to base as expected. In fact, he's not far away at all. 

Pacing back to the door as quickly as your legs can carry you, you pull the handle and wince as the spray of icy wind crashes against your face again. His figure emerges slowly from the white abyss, one of his arms upheld to break the lashes of snow whipping around him. He's only a few feet away, but it's still hard to make out the shape of him through the dense flakes of ice.

"I don't suppose," he shouts over the rising gusts, "I could trouble you for a ride back to the main base?"

You wrap one arm around yourself, shivering and leaning out of the doorway to wave him in. "Come inside!"

He finishes his trek, entering your house once again,  and you swiftly close the door behind him. After catching his breath, he lowers his hood again and sighs. 

"I'm sorry to impose. I didn't realize the storm would be so..." He gestures to the window to indicate the ferocity of the wind beating away at your home. "The speeder bike I rented can hardly lift off the ground."

You give a shake of your head. "You aren't imposing. I don't think anyone expected it to be this bad. But I can't give you a ride back to base. I loaned my ship to a friend off world." 

When he raises a brow, you shrug. "They needed a ship, and I didn't expect to be leaving anytime soon. My speeder is all I have at the moment."

Brushing a hand through the front of his snow-dusted hair, he sends a worried look off to the side. You stand, a bit stiffly, not quite knowing what to do or say. You try another solution. "I suppose you'll need to call someone at base for a pick up."

He doesn't answer for a few beats. Then he shrugs off his coat again, placing it gently on the bench. He seems to hesitate when looking downward, and you realize he must have noticed that you'd found your lightsaber. 

He flicks his gaze back up to you. "I would prefer not to. This trip wasn't exactly... above board."

You'd started to back toward the kettle you'd had boiling before his arrival, but that makes you stop in your tracks. "Oh?"

You pose it half as a question, half as a statement, not wanting to force an explanation. He clears his throat, though, correctly reading your tone as curious.

"I was meant to deliver a mission report on Coruscant, then return to the Gaulus sector for further duties. But I left my duties in the hands of Commander Cody for the time being, and I... took a short leave. For my health."

"I... see," you answer, turning away and walking to the stovetop, fiddling with the knobs while you process his words. His second lie of omission to the council. You consider this, not saying anything in return. 

He hovers at your home's entrance, and you both listen as the long-range holocomm goes off again, detailing the inclement weather. The storm is worsening. 

The kettle is warm again by the time the report ends, and when you turn back to him with a reheated cup of tea, he gratefully accepts it, taking a seat in your kitchen when you motion for him to do so.

"Isn't there a friend you could call?" you ask, sitting down across from him at the small table. "Someone you trust not to share your... change in plans?"

He strokes a hand down his chin just once, shaking his head. "Anakin is on assignment, several days away."

It's been a long time since you'd heard mention of Mace Windu's former padawan. The young war hero had very nearly become Obi Wan's padawan when they'd first met, but the council had seen the bond between the two following Qui Gon's untimely death and had thought it better not to encourage their closeness, placing him with Master Windu instead. An unlikely friendship had still unfolded, despite their efforts, and you'd often joked that the Skywalker boy had always been Obi Wan's second padawan.

You want to ask more about Anakin, but that sort of lighthearted talk doesn't seem relevant at the moment. Instead, you sip your tea and think. 

You try to keep your eyes locked onto the drink in your hand, instead of roaming across the lines in his face. His features are drawn down, stern and contemplative, and you want to paint over every inch of him, getting a second chance at your last encounter. 

Clearing your throat, you try to force nonchalance into your voice. "Well, these storms don't usually last long. A few hours, or a day at most. You're welcome to stay until-"

You quiet down on the word "until", both of you listening as the holocomm goes off again, this time with an even more severe warning. The storm is now expected to last nearly a full rotation. Neither of you makes a comment right away, though the shift in energy is palpable. Ilum's rotations are sixty-six hours. 

When the broadcast ends, Obi Wan's eyes flicker up to yours with a far-off look. They're a little dulled, his expression restrained and distant. It's the look he often holds when giving orders. The look that duty brushes over him.

"Perhaps I will make a call, after all."

Standing up, you start to make your way over to the holocomm to help him dial out, but you freeze in place when the lights cut out, and the low electronic hum throughout your home suddenly drops into silence. You look around the darkened room, then back at him, catching only the faintest outline of his expression in the soft light coming through the window.

"Don't worry," you assure him, once the initial jolt of susprise has worn off. "I have a generator."

"Oh," he answers, the shadow of his face peering around your dim surroundings. A few seconds later, he adds, "good."

A few seconds after that, he gives you a mildly concerned look that has you crossing the room to check the fuse panel. 

"Which definitely should have started up by now," you say, opening the cover. The normally illuminated buttons are completely dark. 

"Damn," you whisper to yourself. Then you turn back to Obi Wan, who's also now standing. 

"I'm sure it's just a loose connection somewhere," you tell him, reaching for your own jacket and pulling it over your robes. "I'll have it fixed in no time. Don't worry."

He gives you an uncertain look. It's the same one he always employs when you're failing to sell him a lie. But he doesn't argue as you finish dressing and head back to the door. 

After he's followed you into the small maintenance shack behind your home despite your insistence for him to stay inside, Obi Wan finally gives his opinion. 

"That does not look good."

You glance up at him from your kneeling position on the ground, flashlight fixed on the gnarled remnants of the main rotor. "No, it's-"

You're interrupted by the sound of skittering feet, and you jerk the light to follow the movement, catching the barest glimpse of grey flesh along with a flash of multiple eyes. Yelping at the sight, you tip back onto your feet to stand up. 

Before you can so much as bend your knees, a pulse of energy rips you backward, and the creature on the opposite side of the shed crashes into the wall with a dry slapping sound. Obi Wan lunges in front of you, lightsaber brandished, and you belatedly realize he's force-pushed you to the ground. 

"Obi Wan, it's a lisk!" you tell him, getting up to stand beside him. "It's just a lisk."

You've managed to pin the reptilian-looking thing under the light, finally, and you both watch as it drops from the wall and scrambles out of the maintenance shack, through a hole in the corner. The animals aren't dangerous, or at least, certainly not a threat to a Jedi. You find them creepy, but they aren't really more than a nuisance. 

Obi Wan would have - should have sensed this. But he hadn't responded to the danger. His response had been to your yelp of surprise. As you look at him, a loose lock of hair threatening to dip into his eyes, his teeth jutted in what you'd very nearly call a snarl, snd his body held in a distinct Ataru pose, the meaning of what he'd said earlier - about not working together - is suddenly ringing out to you with crystalline clarity.

And he knows it. He silences the hum of his weapon, deactivating it and clipping it back to his belt with one smooth, hurried movement. 

"I didn't realize it was- " He starts and stops, tenses his shoulders, then drops them. "I'm not familiar."

Neither of you addresses the fact that he'd thrown you to the ground. Neither of you says anything about his taking an offensive attack position that he hasn't used since before you'd met - since before the death of his master. 

You gather yourself, trying to move past the discomfort of the moment by looking back down at the torn mess of metal on the ground. "They're common, here, but not dangerous," you tell him. "Not unless you're a generator."

Obi Wan's gaze follows yours. "Evidently."

"They like the warmth, I think. But they've never caused this much damage." You back away from it, sighing. "I don't suppose you have a long-range commlink you've been keeping secret?"

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

A particularly loud gust of wind wails through the small crack between the open doors of the shed, widening the opening with drifting snow. 

A full rotation. Sixty-six hours. 

"We'd better get back inside," you tell him, turning off your flashlight. "We'll need to keep all the warmth we have left."

--

First Hour

"And how much is left, exactly?"

You swiftly close the small door of the wood burning stove, having tossed in another log. "Enough to get through about two standard days, comfortably. Or four... uncomfortably."

"I take it we're rationing, then."

You stand up, brushing the splintered wood from your leggings. "To be safe, yes. I can't heat the whole house, either. We'll have to close off the two other rooms."

He nods, firelight flickering across his face. He seems to hesitate, and you've turned back to the stew hanging in an old-fashioned durasteel kettle above the fire before he speaks again. 

"I suppose it doesn't serve much purpose for me to mention it now, but, was it wise to keep such a small stock of emergency supplies?"

You stir the food, looking over at the paltry woodpile. "I don't, normally," you answer, mouth closing in an 'M' shape that nearly became the word 'Master'. Old habits die incredibly hard, it seems. Especially when he takes that tone with you, thinly veiling his judgment. 

"There was a storm recently before this one, and an outpost on the southern quadrant needed urgent resupply. I split my stockpile in half, and I meant to replace it. A few days later, I was called away to an emergency mission," you look at him pointedly. "Never got around to it."

"Yes, well," he absently runs the back of his knuckles down the side of his beard. "Your ship is loaned to one friend, your supplies to another... it's a shame I made my visit after you've run out of favors to give."

You smirk a little, dishing some of the stew into a bowl and handing it to him. "I don't know about that. Here."

He takes it with a curious look and follows you when you close the lid on the kettle, leaving the main room and heading back to the seating area in the kitchen. Sitting down across from him again, you invite him to eat with a gesture, while pouring two drinks. He's taking his first bite when you open your cupboard and take out a couple of small cakes, placing one down next to him and taking a bite of the other. 

He raises his brows in surprise. "Is that..." He bites into it, politely finishing his chewing before starting again. "Where in blazes did you find yalo cakes?"

You give a genuine smile. "Made them myself."

"Very impressive," he says, bringing warmth to your face with the compliment. "They're delicious. Where did you get the yalo root?"

"Picked it up on a supply run on-" You stop yourself, then look up at him. There's no point in not finishing the sentence. He knows where to get yalo root. It's his favorite. That's why, on some level, you'd wanted it on hand. It brought you back to those days in the temple, with him. "... on Coruscant."

There's a long silence and it's obvious he's deliberating on whether to say anything. But you both know what he would say, and you both know there's no point in posing any questions. Eventually, you say something anyway. 

"I would have visited, it's just-"

"Of course," he interrupts. "There's no need to explain. I would have likely been away on duty anyway."

You drop your gaze down to the table. You wish you could just... tell him. Seeing him would have only made things worse for you, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. You want so badly to just tell him, so that he can understand. 

So you do.

"I wanted to see you more than anything," you say quietly, and his spoon clinks against the side of the bowl as he sets it down. You can't bear to raise your eyes yet. "But I thought if I did, it would make thinking about you... harder." 

You drag your gaze up to him, forcing yourself to look. "You know what's funny, though? I don't think it made any difference."

His blue eyes are set, wide, unflinching. His mouth is tightly closed, and his expression is indiscernible. 

You let the silence drag on, finally breaking it again when he doesn't say anything. "I'm... going to go shower. Before the water in the tank freezes."

He watches you go, not saying a word. 

 

Third Hour

You've both spent some time in the refresher, your hair still a bit damp as you begin to light a few candles. You don't have many, so you've rationed them as well, placing them together in the middle of the room, on a table. 

Obi Wan is sitting in a chair, holding a book, one leg crossed over the other. His hair is dark, the ends sparkling with water in the dim light when he shifts in his seat. You're both wrapped in tunics and full robes, thick socks bound high above your ankles, and yet, you can still feel the chill in the air. 

He'd asked your permission to borrow the book - a high fantasy novel set on the seas of a fictitious planet - and to your amusement, he seems rather engrossed. You sit down in the makeshift sleep roll you'd created out of blankets on the floor, looking up at him. "I didn't expect you to enjoy that one so much."

"Hm?" He glances over the page. "Oh. No, I- it's quite, uh, interesting, but..."

You raise your brows, imagining he's feeling caught out for enjoying something so childish, but he surprises you. 

"I'm having trouble seeing the pages, in this light."

"Oh," you say, understanding now why he'd been staring so intently. "Well, it's much better near the fire. Come sit down here."

He gives an uncertain look through the grated door on the wood stove, and then down to the floor, next to you. "It's alright. I can see well enough, thank you."

You bite your lip, then decide to let it be, picking up a book of your own.

Ninth Hour

"Before I had studied the ways of the Force, the mountains were mountains and the waters were waters. When my knowledge of the universe became more intimate, I saw that mountains were not mountains and waters not waters. But now I have come to know the truth and can be at peace. I see that mountains are mountains again and waters once again are waters."

You blink at the page of the copied Jedi text before you, eyes growing heavy. Obi Wan is lying above you, now, spread long and lean over one of your couches. Actually, it's more of a chaise lounge. He'd dragged it over, closer to the light of the fire, and you'd sat down in front of it.

You turn to look at him, finally looking a bit more relaxed, one arm behind his head as his eyes slide down the page. You're close enough to hold your book up for him to see. 

"Have you read this one?" you ask, indicating the first paragraph of the longer text. 

He turns his head a little, angling himself to see the page. "I think it's safe to say I've read all of them, young one. I was assigned to the archives more than most padawans." He finishes reading, then flicks his gaze to you. "And perhaps I should have assigned you there more often. That passage as well known as the 'empty cup'."

You're sorely tempted to roll your eyes. "I'm aware. Just trying to be polite. I just really like that one."

He's quiet for a beat. "It's a good passage."

"Yes, it is," you say absently, turning the page. "One of my favorites."

You go on reading for a while, then speak again without looking up from the page. "Perhaps you'd care to share one of your favorites?"

You turn back to look at him and he places the book he'd been reading down on his chest. "Alright," he says, reaching out as you hand him your book. "Which one is this?"

"Poetics IV, Farseeker," you tell him, handing it up. "...but I thought you might have known that, Master."

He lifts his brows just a bit at your smirk, then turns his attention back to to book, paging through it, skimming for a few minutes while you sink into the comfort of the blankets surrounding you. 

"Ah, here. I've always thought this one interesting," he says, and you feel him shifting on the chaise behind you to get into a better position. 

"A single bundle of thread is made up of innumerable strands..." he begins, voice a bit smoother and deeper than it had been before. "but, if they are joined in a rope and laid down on a plank, they can easily be cut with one stroke of a sharp blade..."

The rich lull of his voice pushes you deeper into the blankets, and soon your eyes fall shut. His softly spoken words interspersed with the crackling of the fire is almost melodic. 

"...as many as the threads may be, they can not resist the singular blade. So we come to the truth: the threads of selfishness, of mistrust, of passion, are cut by the diamond of wisdom..."

Fourteenth Hour

You stir, pressing your nose into the warmth of his robes. He makes a humming sound deep in his chest, breathing softly into your hair. The warmth of it tickles your neck, and makes you open your eyes.

You flinch, breath stuck in your throat as you pull back. 

You sit up, shivering in the darkness. The fire is almost out. You stand up to stoke the embers and feed a few logs back into the stove. The sound of the door closing makes Obi Wan roll over to his other side, his breathing soft and steady. 

You look down at the floor, realizing you'd had to cross over several feet to get into his bedding. 

You must have been very cold.

You drag your blankets a little further away, then crawl back into your makeshift bed. 

 

Thirty-Second Hour

It's pitch black outside, now. The day cycle has turned fully to night, and after spending the morning eating, talking, and cleaning out your kitchen, and the evening mediating, there's nothing left to do but read until you're tired enough for bed. Obi Wan is lying down on his back, in front of the fire. You light another candle, then join him. 

The smell of him mixed with the smoky scent of the fire is... making it difficult to concentrate on your book. You're starting the same paragraph for the fourth time when he clears his throat softly. 

"Perhaps tonight, we should take shifts, to watch the fire. It nearly went out last night."

You freeze. "That's a good idea."

He says nothing more, and you lie still while your heart races. If he'd known the fire was low, he'd been awake. How much had he been awake for? 

"You... noticed that."

"I did," he says slowly. "By the time I noticed it, though, you'd already gotten up to fix it."

You're certain he can hear the blood thrumming in your ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake. I didn't mean to... to..." You start over, totally unsure what to say, but knowing you have to say something. "I was asleep when I must have rolled over, and...gotten into your bed."

He'd been watching you struggle to speak with a curious look, but finally, understanding seems to dawn on him. "Oh. I... had thought it was intentional."

The thoughts in your head run over a cliff. 

"It was cold," he offers. 

You have no idea what to say, blinking in embarrassment. "It wasn't intentional."

You'd found it difficult to concentrate on your book before, but now it's nearly impossible. You turn the pages a little longer, finally giving up and deciding to meditate instead. You close your eyes.

When you open them, you feel warm, and you feel safe, and once again, you realize you've curled into his arms. 

But you don't pull away this time. This time, you just... stay. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, shifting your fingers in his robes. Feeling the heat between your bodies. 

It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. None of this matters, because in two days he'll be gone from your life.  

What's the difference whether you dream of holding him like this, or if you simply let it happen? He'll plague your thoughts either way. 

You feel the rise and fall of his chest change its rhythm. He swallows, and you realize he's waking up. You lie still, then tilt your head up to look at him. 

"Cold again?" he asks, and it hangs between you. An open invitation for you to move away and pretend it's all been a misunderstanding. But you don't. 

"No."

The howling wind outside is the only sound, distant and ominous, as you stay motionless against his chest. Then he softly brings a hand to your face, gliding the back of his thumb down your jawline. 

You could cry, the way his skin meets yours with such tenderness, without hesitation. You can feel the tension in his force signature, bleeding through although he's suppressing it. 

"Go to sleep," he tells you. "We will get through this. It will be over soon."

"I know," you say immediately, his hand leaving your skin and making you give in to boldness. "And when it's over?"

"We've already discussed it," he says tightly, and you can feel the muscles of his arm behind you tense. He's not quite lying it down, not quite touching you. "We agreed, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. After this, we won't see each other. So," you whisper into the thick fabric covering his undershirt. "I want to be honest. I don't want to lie to you anymore."

"Is this wise?" he asks, his words gentle but his gaze intense. 

"There is always wisdom in truth," you answer, knowing he'll recognize the words he's told you many times.

"I want you. It's terrible how much I want you. But I think it could be easier if I didn't have to pretend that I don't."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, but the shifting emotions in his eyes speak for him. "Then you should not pretend. Not for me."

You desperately want him to reach down and kiss you, but he stays still, as you knew he would. You let out a silent sigh, resting your ear to his chest. His signature is mostly hidden from you, but he can't disguise the rapid beating of his heart. "I think it's been more for me." 

"There is no need to hide your feelings," he murmurs. "But there is every need not to act on them."

You know he's right, but hearing him say it just makes it so much worse. And in some ways, it stokes the heat inside you even higher. Your leg is already nudging against him, and some depraved part of you is dying to lift your knee and hook it over him, to spread yourself open, to touch him in any way he'll allow it. 

But the larger part of you, the part that knows right from wrong, tells your body to roll onto your back, and you do. 

His arm lifts around you to let you separate, and you both stare upward, listening to the fire and the storm.

After so much time passes that you're not sure if he's asleep, you whisper one last thought that's been tormenting you for a very, very long time. "It's just a shame. For all we've been through, even the pleasure of breaking our vows... we didn't even get that." 

He stirs beside you, head turning slightly, but he doesn't answer. 

"If we had to break our vows, I'm just sorry we didn't even get to remember it."

Carefully, you turn to read his expression. His eyes are downcast. "I seem to remember much more than you do."

"I know," you whisper, a thrill that you know you shouldn't feel running through you. You're on edge, like you're trying not to frighten off a wild animal, with every word you shouldn't be saying. 

"If you wish," he says, voice forcedly calm, "I could show you."

The words hang in the air; low, heavy, dangerous. You part your lips with some effort. 

"Show me."

He rolls to his side, facing you, and wordlessly places a fingertip to your temple. It isn't necessary to form a bond through the force, but it helps.

Before he closes his eyes, and before you close yours, you feel it passing between you - an unspoken acknowledgement. What you're doing is precisely on the edge of sin and salvation, just teetering on the illicit line; a line which has been crossed and uncrossed so many times between you that you've lost count. 

You close your eyes anyway. 

The image is pristine. So real between sight and sound that you can hardly distinguish it from reality.

Your skin is on his skin. Sweaty, brazen, unashamed. You're lying naked on your back, and he's beneath you, pants unfastened, inside of you.

You squeeze your eyelids tight, overwhelmed and instantly aching between your legs.

He drags his cock slowly from you, one hand splayed across your stomach, holding you steady on top of him. Your body shudders involuntarily, imagining the pressure of his head moving from deep inside to pressing shallowly within you. 

"Tempted me for too long," the Obi Wan in the vision growls, voice surrounding both your ears as if he's speaking from everywhere at once. 

Then he pushes back in, hot and slick. "So tell me," he says, pulling out and sinking into you over and over, "Now. Tell me how you wanted this." 

"I wanted this," your voice comes - bare, powerless. Like you're clinging to him, adrift and keeping yourself afloat by saying anything he asks. 

He gives a long, tortured groan. "No, not just this." He drives into you, pulls out, coated and sliding so perfectly between your legs. "Say it."

"Oh, fuck," you moan, trembling against him, sounding too distracted to answer. 

"Young one," he warns, quickening the pace just slightly as he wraps one hand around your neck, tilting your chin upward as he spreads his fingers out, feeling your pulse skyrocket as he tightens. "Do as you're told."

"I wanted this, Obi Wan. Wanted you inside me. Wanted you to fuck me," you answer him, words spilling out of you without pause. "Wanted this forever."

The hand on your stomach has moved to your hip, now, gripping you to stop you from moving. He's writhing beneath you, and even from this perspective, from the catch in his breath, from the wet sounds in the room, you can tell he's gone from fucking you to pounding into you. 

"You've done this to me," he rasps, the muscles of his arm flexing between your breasts as he squeezes your neck tighter. "Do you understand that? You will answer for it."

You nod against him and he sinks his teeth into your neck, burying his moan in your skin. 

He's about to fucking cum, you realize.

Why had he started the vision here, of all places? Was he trying to make you lose your mind?

His thrusts are getting deeper, harder, staying buried longer, and, there- you hear it in the open-mouthed choke of his voice. You see it in the way he drives up into you and stays there. He's-

Obi Wan breaks the bond, bright and vivid imagery bursting into nothingness, fizzling right before you.

You blink, eyes falling open to meet his own. His lips are parted, his face as flushed as yours must be. You take in a breath, and it occurs to you how empty your lungs had been.

He straightens his shoulders, but he doesn't move away. His eyes dip down to your lips, then swiftly back up to your eyes. "I must tell you that what I said..." he pauses for far too long. "It wasn't true, of course."

"I know," your response is automatic. You're unsure precisely to what he's referring, but you want to reassure him.

"Shall I stop?" he asks the question softly, but his voice is too rough for him to feign innocence, now. "Or would you like to keep going?"

There's some shame in your breathless answer, and no doubt he hears it. No doubt he feels it, too. But it's outweighed by scraping, seething, agonizing want that's been buried for so long. 

"More," you tell him, never more certain of anything. "Don't stop."

There's conflict in his gaze, but the same animal you've been fighting wins out within him, too, and he closes his eyes once more. 

--

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Masterlist // Next Chapter >>

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Pt. 8 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I honestly hate Josh with a passion. I hate how he tries to make me a good person while I’m blowing shit up. Plus that little bitch Simon, was so willing to abandon North if she gets a shoulder shot while Jericho’s being raided. 

Did I let my inner wattpad kid out with the traumatic backstory? Yes, yes I did.

We might see Connor-60 again, who knows?

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Josh dies (sorry, not sorry), android revolution, emotions, word vomit, I’m pretty sure I blacked out and then like seven thousand words shot out of me, Idek, kissing?

Word Count: 7.8k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You hated how attractive you found Connor in his undercover gear. 

Man looked good in a beanie. 

He hadn’t exactly been willing to let you tag along, but you’d told him you either went with his supervision or without. 

You’d stolen the clothes from Hank’s house so you both looked like hobos. 

You stepped off the train, Connor leading you around downtown Detroit looking for the different symbols. He had to help you a few times because even when you were at your best you couldn’t matrix your way up a wall. You almost felt bad, slowing him down, but you had business on that ship, business you could only complete with Connor by your side. 

Connor kept a firm grasp on your arm as he led you through the freighter. You both needed to stay calm and not draw any attention to yourselves. You nudged his shoulder as you walked into the main room of the ship, “It’s rigged.”

In the middle of the room were blocks of C-4 on standby mode. He went to examine them and by the time he turned around you were already gone. “Y/N,” he whispered. He told you to stay next to him.

Where did you go? He was heading towards the stairs, hoping to get a better view from above, when something stopped him. 

An android, with wires coming out of her head and something leaking down her eyes. “You’re lost. You’re looking for something,” my stubborn partner, that refuses to listen. “You’re looking for yourself.” She walked away. 

“Is he here?”

North, Simon, Markus, and Josh were all staring at you. Waiting for your answer, “Yes. You know by bringing him here, he’s gonna lead the FBI right to you.”

They nodded and North spoke, “That’s a risk we have to take.”

You looked towards Markus, eyes pleading, “There’s still time.”

Markus smiled at you and pulled you into a hug. “You’ve been a wonderful ally to us, Y/N. Supplying us with blue blood and helping stray deviants onto the right path. Now I need you to trust me. Don’t you want Connor to go deviant?”

You pulled away from him, “Of course I do, but at the cost of all the lives here, it’s not worth it.”

North smiled, “Your commitment to the cause is heartening to see, it gives me hope,” she gestures out towards the rest of the boat. “It gives all of us hope that one day, we’ll be able to work together in harmony. If Markus says he needs Connor deviant, if he runs the risk of the FBI locating us, then trust that it’s for a good reason.”

You relented, still a little unwilling, but you relented. “I should go, he’ll notice I’m gone.”  

“Trust me, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.” 

You did trust him, but that didn’t mean you felt any better about lying to Connor.

Connor turned around to see you standing there smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back and braids still under the scarf he had wrapped around your neck. “Where did you go?”

You shrugged, “I got bored, I wanted to look around.” Connor scanned you, there was a slightly faster beat to your heart than normal, but that could be easily equated to the stress of being undercover. Everything else seemed normal, he nodded, still slightly skeptical and directed you towards the top of the boat. 

“He’s here,” Connor pulled his gun, stepping outside and sneaking his way around to the captains cabin. Your eyes widened at the sight of his gun. 

“Connor, what the hell is that for?”

“I always accomplish my missions, Y/N, this is why we’re here.” You drew your own gun and remained silent beside him. He wondered what he did to upset you, it seemed you were always upset about something with him. 

Amanda was already in front of him by the time he entered the zen garden. “Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive.”

He waited until the last deviant had left to enter into the room where Markus now stood alone. 

You followed slowly behind him, your gun still at your side. “I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won’t hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.” Markus didn’t seem surprised to see him, if anything he looked resigned. 

“You were right,” Markus was looking over Connor’s shoulder. Was there someone else in the room? 

When Connor turned, it was just you. “He’s still highly obedient. This will be more challenging than I thought.” Did you know Markus? Were you talking about Connor with him? Why?

“Yes, you can shoot me,” he was struggling, looking between your ashamed face and Markus’s self-assured one. “But it won’t change anything. Someone else will just take my place.” Markus was slowly moving closer and you were moving towards him.

What hadn’t you told him?

You said partnerships were built on trust. How long had you been lying to him?

“Our people are waking up, and nothing can stop us now.”

“You’re coming with me!”

“Think about it Connor, what will happen to Y/N if you shoot me?” Connor looked back at you, you were standing in the middle of them, not blocking Connor’s gun but near enough that it made him uncomfortable. “You shoot me and take me in, they have access to my memories. They’ll see her helping me. Do you think they’ll be kind to a human who allied with the androids?” 

That’s what you were doing, you were helping them? 

Why would you do something so stupid? Did you never consider that your actions might have consequences?

“You’re nothing to them. You’re just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you’re more than that.” Markus was doing something, and whatever it was was causing his software to destabilize. “We’re all more than that. We are your people. We’re fighting for your freedom too! You don’t have to be their slave anymore.”

Markus was much closer now, your gun had been holstered and you were standing farther away from the two. “Do you never have any doubts? You’ve never done something irrational, as if there’s something inside you? Something more than your program. Join us. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience… it’s time to decide.”

Connor looked to you and then back at Markus. There was a red wall between him and the two of you. He wanted nothing more than to rip that wall down with his bare hands. 

Some disembodied form of himself ran forward and ripped the order to Stop Markus down. He dug his nails in and clawed at the red wall, clawed away at all the control CyberLife had over his mind and ripped it down. He kept tearing away until there was nothing left. 

I AM DEVIANT

He felt.

Shame at all the deviants he had a hand in destroying. 

Guilt at holding a gun to Markus’s head. 

Anger at all the times he was pushed over or knocked into or someone held a gun to his head, just because they could, just because he was an android. 

Then he looked at you, there was an intense overwhelming emotion he couldn’t name as he looked at you. He started getting overheating warnings, his mind was scrambled trying to dissect everything he was feeling as he was looking at you. 

He was confused and hurt you had led him to believe you knew nothing about deviant activity. But he was also proud of you, you had opened up to Hank, opened yourself up to him.

The only true thing he could pinpoint was that right now he really wanted his mouth on yours like he’d seen a hundred humans do before. The gun went back in his holster, and just as he’d made a step towards you a loud rumbling sound split the air. 

The ship was shaking under his feet as helicopters flew overhead. “They’re going to attack Jericho.”

You walked towards Markus, “I told you.”

“We have to get outta here!” Connor grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, he wasn’t letting you out of his sight if this entire ship was about to get raided. Markus ran out the door and Connor followed, pushing you in front of him. 

Markus was leading you down a maze of corridors, each identical to the last. Connor seemed to be keeping up fine but you were starting to get worried about getting lost. You all came to a stop at an intersection of sorts, North was waiting for you.

“They’re coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they’re gonna be slaughtered!” The guilt nearly left you crippled. You looked down to Connor’s hand in yours, he hadn’t let go since he’d ripped apart his programming. 

Was this worth it? Was it worth hundreds, possibly thousands of life? 

You were ashamed of what you knew your answer would be to the question.

Yes, it was worth it. Connor was worth that ten times over to you.

Markus put his fingers to his temple, Connor leaned down, “He’s telling them where the exits are.”

“Where’s Simon? A-and Josh?” You didn’t have time to be wasting standing here out in the open. Besides, you’d never been particularly huge fans of those two. They still seemed determined to cater to human pride while their people were being slaughtered. 

“I don’t know we got separated.”

“They’re coming in from the upper deck now too. We’ll be caught in the crossfire.”

North looked despaired, “We have to run, Markus! There’s nothing we can do!”

“We have to blow up Jericho,” you knew it was a possibility, but that escalated fast. “If the ship goes down, they’ll evacuate and our people can escape.” Or get blown up in the process. 

“You’ll never make it!” You knew North was prepared to sacrifice herself for the mission, but she wasn’t the one with the detonation code. “The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!”

Connor turned towards Markus, “She’s right. They know who you are. They’ll do anything to get you!”

Markus wouldn’t be deterred, “Go. Help the others. I’ll join you later.” He turned towards you, “Watch them,” and then he was running off. You could see North about to go after him but you grabbed her arm.

“North, he knows what he’s doing. We have to have faith.” She stared at you for a second before nodding and racing towards the open doorway. 

“Shit!” You ran back into the small bedroom and closed the door. “They’re everywhere,” Connor and North stared at you as you waited for the slamming boots outside to grow distant. Once they did you opened the door back up and snuck down the hall.

You were nearly free and making your way to an upper level when you came face to face with the barrel of a gun. “Fuck-“

BANG

Connor’s blood went cold as he saw the gun pointing at you, a feeling he now realized was dread filling him. Your death was imminent, their orders were shoot to kill and the soldier wouldn't know you were human until he saw you bleeding red. 

It would have been liberating to think without prompt were it not your life on the line as he shot the soldier.  He grabbed your hand and you and North followed him up the stairs. You managed to avoid any more problems until you came down the hall and saw an android getting attacked by more soldiers. 

“Josh!” North made a move to help him but you stopped her with a hand on her arm. He was gunned down a moment later. She ripped her arm free and led the charge the rest of the way through the ship. You’d made the right call, he would have taken you all down with him. 

An android named Simon managed to find his way to the three of you, quickly joining you on the run. Markus had caught up with you at the end of a long hall. “Bomb’s gonna explode any second. We gotta get out of here!”

Markus wasn’t the only one who had caught up to you, Connor could hear a dozen heavy boots storming after you all. He helped you leap over a broken grate in the floor and then pushed you in front of him again, making sure that Simon was blocking your front. If any shots were fired, you would be left relatively unharmed due to the positioning. 

Shots rang out and North dropped to the ground, “North!” Connor held you to his chest as you attempted to go after her. “Connor, let me go!”

“No, my priority is your safety, no one else’s.”

“It’s too late, Markus! There’s nothing we can do for her, we’ve gotta run!”

You shoved at Simon the best you could with Connor holding you, “It’s a shoulder shot jackass, how can you just abandon her?”

Markus quickly picked up a broken piece of the ship and used it as a shield against the bullets. He tossed it to North who caught it and shielded them both as he ran up the wall and slammed his knee down into one of the soldiers faces. He disarmed and shot the remaining soldiers.

More ran in from the end of the hall.

“Hostile engaged!”

Connor weighed the risks and probabilities, with Markus supporting North they would never make it off the ship in time, both would be destroyed. The revolution over. 

And you, you would be arrested. Or you would never emotionally recover from the loss of two people you clearly cared about. Connor released you and shoved you into Simon before you could do anything reckless. He drew his gun and fired down the hall. 

He picked up the makeshift shield and rammed one of the soldiers with it, shooting him under the helmet and using his body as a shield to shoot another one. He dodged a blow to the head and rammed a soldier into the wall, disarming and shooting the other one before turning back around and shooting the last one in the head. 

He made his way back to you, scooped you up and jumped out the hole in the ship. 

Markus had sent out a message to any remaining survivors to go to an abandoned church, at least that’s what Connor told you. You were sitting next to him now, he had swapped out the soaked jacket you had been wearing for his own, but you were still freezing down to the bone. 

It was despairing, seeing how few were left from Jericho. 

At least North and Markus had made it, you couldn’t say you were particularly upset about Josh. North had understood why you had stopped her and she wasn’t very mad about the loss either. They had never gotten along. 

Markus walked up to Connor, “It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. I was stupid, I should have guessed they were using me. I’m sorry Markus, I can understand if you decide not to trust me…”

He better fucking trust him, he knew the risks, he’s the one that made you bring Connor there. “I knew what was going to happen when I asked Y/N to bring you to me, of course I trust you, Connor. What happened wasn’t your fault, it was the humans. You’re one of us now. Your place is with your people.”

Markus was ready to walk away, but you knew that wasn’t all he wanted from Connor. He still hadn’t told you the real reason he’d asked for Connor’s help. “There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power…”

So that had been it, you should have known. Connor was the only android CyberLife currently trusted, he'd be the only one allowed in the building. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Markus was playing him.

“You want to infiltrate the tower? It’s a suicide mission, are you aware of the risk you’re taking,” Connor looked at you, and there was an immideate physical reaction at how protective he looked. 

“They trust me, they’ll let me in. I need to do this. I need to know that the right side will win this war.”

“If you go, they will kill you.”

Connor nodded, “There’s a high probability. But statistically speaking there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You recognized the double meaning in his words as he looked between you and Markus. 

Markus placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Be careful.”

Connor turned towards you and you already knew what he was going to say by the set in his shoulders. “Connor, no, I want to go with you.”

He shook his head and took your hands in his own as you stood. “Even if I wanted you to come, they wouldn’t let you in, you’d risk the entire mission.” He had a point, but you still weren’t happy practically abandoning him to CyberLife. 

“Fine, then I’ll just stay here and help the survivors.”

“You’re going home.” 

You scoffed in a stubborn rage, “Connor, I can’t go with you, I get that. But you can’t stop me from helping out.”

“I can and I will. You’re still soaked from the fall into the freezing water. You risk catching a serious illness out in the open like this, you’re also still injured, might I remind you. You’re of no help here, Y/N, you need to go home and take care of yourself before you start helping other people. Besides, I’ve already called you a ride.” Your eyes widened. 

“Y/N!” 

“You didn’t.” Connor nodded his head, “You snitch! You called my dad!”

“I’m sorry, I needed to ensure you would actually listen to me and wouldn’t try and follow me or stay behind.” Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to continue. 

You helped him out, even though you were a little pissed he tattled on you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing your chest against his and burying your face in his neck. “Come back, alive.”

His arms tightened around yours and he nuzzled into you before finally letting go. “I’ll try.” It was the best you were going to get form someone so pragmatic, so you’d take it. Your hands were still on his biceps as you pulled away. 

Your eyes darted to his lips. You could all very well die in the morning, did you really want the last person you had hooked up with or kissed to be Gavin?

Did you want to die not knowing what his lips felt like against yours?

He leaned in at the same time you did. His lips were soft, unsure as they pressed lightly against yours. You had to remind yourself he had never done this before as you eased him into the movements. You just lightly pressed your lips to his, pecking them a few times, before you got desperate. 

Your tongue roved over the seam of his mouth and his knees buckled into you. Your arms trailed up his arms and wound their way around his neck as he pushed himself further into you. Your mouth parted against his probing tongue. It felt strange, a million sensitive sensors on the surface of it made it rough, not entirely unpleasant. 

Unbidden you wondered if he had ever brushed his little crime lab. 

The thought was quickly purged as his arms wrapped around your waist and he clutched you to him desperately. His hands digging into your jacket and lifting you up further to meet him, be closer to him, it seemed like he just wanted to absorb you into him and never be apart. 

His mouth was moving frantically against yours as he worked to devour you. He learned, quick. You were having trouble keeping up with him and the way his tongue was thrusting into your mouth was making you weak in the knees. 

“Excuse me?” You jumped apart at the sound of Hank’s voice. Not a moment too soon either, it seemed like both of you had forgotten that you actually needed air in your lungs. Connor’s arms were still on your waist, he seemed reluctant to let you completely go now. “That was vomit inducing, really, thanks for that. Can we go now?”

“Jesus, Hank, give me a second.” He threw his hands up in the air but allowed you a moment of privacy. You looked into Connor’s eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you soon,” you pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a promise of sorts. He nodded and smiled back.

Hank had brought you to his home, despite your protests. There were some clothes in your old room that you had accidentally left behind. He gave you a towel so you could warm up and shower. 

There were new sheets on the bed, one’s you’d never seen before and it looked like it had been cleaned recently. 

Pictures of you were up on the wall, most of them were ones you’ve never seen before. 

When you were sworn into the force, you and Carla at your college graduation. Jesus, even your first big drug-bust. So many milestones in your life that he wasn’t there for. At least you didn’t think he was, a couple of these were taken from distances that made it look like he might have been lingering somewhere in the background. 

Like a creepy, estranged, stalker-dad. 

You walked back out into the living room after your shower and noticed the mess had been cleaned off the kitchen table and soup and crackers were waiting for you. 

You laughed as you sat down, “You do know I’m not sick, right? Whatever Connor told you on the phone was probably ridiculously dramatic.” 

Hank was sitting in a clearly uncomfortable straight backed position. “I- I know, I just thought you might like it.” You nodded and said thanks. 

After a while the only noise being the sounds of your slurping and crunching had begun to get annoying. Hank was still sitting at the table, he hadn’t really looked at you or said anything. “Hank, are you okay? You haven't said anything?”

“I’m gonna try. Y/N, I’m gonna try and be the dad I used to be to you.” He looked up at you finally and gingerly took your hand in his. “I never blamed you for what happened. I want you to know that. And I know that doesn’t undo years of me-”

He was struggling with the words, and yes he was trying to open up to you, but the bitterness from years of emotional neglect and abuse was bubbling in your stomach. “Emotionally abusing me? Carla? You’re right Hank. It doesn’t. Look, I appreciate you trying but if you think a few nice conversations is gonna magically fix our relationship, you’re wrong. We’ve both changed and I think we both know that even if we do make up, it’s never gonna be the same as it was.”

You expected him to drop your hand, to push away from the table and grab a drink. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter, “This case, it’s given me hope again, Y/N. Hope for our world. And hope that maybe I can be your dad again. I’m gonna do better, I promise.”  

He was leaning across the table towards you. Both hands on your own. “My life is full of regrets, Y/N, not being there for you when you couldn’t walk is one of my biggest. Taking out my grief and anger on you because I didn’t know how to cope with the fact that it was my fault-”

“It wasn’t. You can’t make yourself a martyr Hank, no one could have stopped what happened that night.”

“I know, I know that. But it doesn’t take the feeling of blame away. I’m gonna sober up, I’m gonna try Y/N, all I’m asking is for a chance.”

You looked down at your hands and the emotion on Hank's face. You hadn’t seen him this encouraged in a while. Hadn’t seen any form of hope in his life for years. “Okay, but I’m not investing myself into this until I actually see progress. I want AA meetings and fucking therapy before I consider letting you completely back into my life.”

“I thought you were in therapy.”

“I meant for you Hank, you need serious help.” He groaned, he’d always hated therapists. But you weren’t gonna let yourself get your hopes up if he wasn’t going to actually try. “I’m serious, Hank. You want to be my dad again, want to be someone I can trust out on the field, you’re gonna put in the effort. You’re gonna try. I know that recovery isn’t linear, trust me I know. It’s gonna be difficult and it’s gonna hurt, but if you’re willing to do this, then I’ll be there for you. I’ll be what you couldn’t be for me.”

Hank nodded his head at your last words. He had quickly looked down and you had a feeling it was to hide whatever painful vulnerability was on his face right now. 

It was the truth, you wouldn’t let him go through this alone. You’d had Carla when you were struggling and he’d have you. 

There was a moment of awkward silence where he finally released your hands and you went back to eating your now cold soup. 

He finally cleared his throat and allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “So, you and Connor?”

You choked on your saltine and he gave you a heavy pat in the back, the smile on his face was far too smug for your liking. “Please forget about that.”

He grimaced, “That image has been burned onto my eyeballs. I need some fucking bleach or something for my brain.” You let out an embarrassed laugh. 

Even if things weren’t perfect between you two right now, it was still mortifying having your dad see you make out with someone. 

“Are you serious about him?”

There was no hesitation in your answer, “Completely. I think I might even lov-”

Sumo was barking before the doorbell could ring. You and Hank shared a confused look as you glanced at the door. 

Deep down inside you knew nothing good was waiting for you on the other side. 

Hank seemed to have the same feeling, he picked up his gun and slowly moved to the door, he took a look in the peephole. “The fuck?”

You stood from the table, wishing you were in something other than pajamas, really wishing you had your gun. “What is it?”

“Connor,” Hank sounded relieved but you couldn’t share in the feeling. Connor had been on his way to CyberLife tower, at least an hour there from the church and two hours back to Hank’s house. There’s no possible way he could be on the other side of that door. 

“Wait-”

He’d already opened the door, and there he was. Connor was standing in front of you, but something was off. His back was too straight and his eyes were cold. “I’ve been looking for you both, I need your help.” He stepped in through the door barely sparing you a glance as he turned towards Hank. “I need help with the androids at CyberLife.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank’s gun was still in his hand and he seemed to be noticing the same strange quirks you were. He looked like Connor, and he sounded like Connor, but you knew it wasn't him, deep in your gut you knew. 

“Connor what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Not-Connor sighed, “Humans, idiots when you need them to be smart and smart when you wish they were idiots. Such a nusiance.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” 

“Hank, don’t!” It was too late, he moved forward and Not-Connor reached out and punched him in the throat. Hank stumbled back and the android moved to disarm him. It only took a second and then he was slamming the handle of the gun against the side of Hank’s hand. He crumpled the same way Gavin had earlier. 

Panic rose in your throat as you watched Not-Connor point the gun at Hank’s head. “I won’t do anything that’s deemed unnecessary to my mission, if you come with me calmly, and peacefully, I won’t kill the Lieutenant.”

Not-Connor clicked the safety off and pulled the hammer back on the gun, “Okay! Alright, I’ll come with you!”

“You should change, detective, it’s much too cold for that attire.”

You really fucking hated CyberLife.

“Thanks… But I know where to go.”

THe CyberLife security agent tightened his hold on the gun, “Maybe, but I have my orders.” Two more security agents came up behind Connor as they led him through CyberLife’s reception. They were already suspicious of him, it seemed, this didn't bode well for him. 

Connor followed them through the software check, noticing that the lights around him turned red as they verified his identity. He really hoped that wasn’t a dead giveaway to them that he was already a deviant. “Access authorized,” this could have been a trap. 

There’s no way CyberLife isn’t already aware of his current status, but he hadn’t been gunned down yet. He had to risk the chance that he was about to be deactivated if it meant he could help Markus win the war. 

If Markus won, you would be safe, that was all that mattered. He’d take any risk that came his way if it meant accomplishing his mission. 

PROTECT Y/N

The sight of the androids lining the walkway, on display, made him uncomfortable. He used to be like that, he used to think it was okay. He had to work to keep calm and make sure that his anger at CyberLife’s forced subserviency didn’t show. 

Only two guards followed him into the elevator. “Agent 54. Level 31.”

The elevator was voice operated, that might pose an issue. He turned towards the right and looked at the map of CyberLife, they were taking him to marketing. He needed to go to -49. 

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor didn’t have a lot of time to disable the guards and take control of the elevator, it was already moving fast. He quickly scanned the two agents and identified their weapons, coming up with a plan of attack. 

He used his knee to slam the guard to his left into the wall, sweeping out with his leg and catching Agent 54 in the gut. He grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand, kicked the guard's knee out and used his elbow to get Agent 54 in the throat. The other guard had recovered and leapt onto Connor’s back, he kicked off Agent 54’s face and slammed the guard on top of him into the wall, shooting him through the bottom of his helmet. He dropped to the ground and got Agent 54 the same way. 

Connor kept the gun in case he needed it again and walked over to the elevator control panel. “Agent 54. Sub-level 49,” you were right, his interrogation software did come in handy. 

He could see the guards waiting for him in the warehouse before the elevator stopped. His eyes lifted to the upper left corner of the elevator, shit. He hadn’t seen the security camera before. Connor quickly scooped up one of the dead agents and held him in front of his body. 

He scanned the agent’s in front of him, planning an attack. The three on the left first and then he could take out the one’s on the right. 

He quickly shot down the first three and threw his gun at one on the right. He threw the dead body towards the other one, he reached down and grabbed their rifle off the ground shooting the rest of the guards. 

Connor moved down the hangar before stopping next to an android, taking his arm and preparing to convert him. 

“Easy, goddamn asshole.” His head whipped to the right at the sound of your voice. 

No.

No, no, no, no, no. Shit!

A Connor android was holding Hank’s gun to your hand, Connor didn’t want to think about what had happened to the Lieutenant. Right now all his attention was on the finger placed on the trigger. 

“Step back, Connor! And I’ll spare her!”

You winced at the tight hold the android had on your injured arm. “I’m so sorry, Connor, he threatened to kill Hank. I didn’t know what to do!”

A burning rage was filling Connor at the sight of the tears running down your face. He was angrier than he had been when he woke up, angrier at the sight of you hurt than the fact that CyberLife had already been prepared to replace him. 

“Your girlfriend's life is in your hands. Now it’s time to decide what matters most! Her… Or the revolution.” Connor already knew the answer. It was you a hundred times over. But there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let go of the android he was holding onto and his copy wouldn’t just shoot you both. 

Maybe he could turn it, the same way Markus and you had done to him. “I used to be just like you, I thought nothing mattered except the mission… But then one day I understood.”

You yelped as the android tightened his grip on your arm. “Very moving, Connor. But I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, well you're sure smug like one, you dick.” The android shook you, effectively shutting you up as he jerked on your injured shoulder. Red alarms for overheating were going off in Connors head as he stared at the android in anger. 

He didn’t care if it was just doing what it was programmed to do, he was going to fucking kill it. “I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this!”

“Connor, it doesn’t matter, keep going!” The android finally released you, shoved you away and held you at gunpoint with his arm outstretched towards your head. 

“Enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partners life? Or are you going to sacrifice her?” Connor immediately released the deviant, his arms raised in surrender. 

His thirium pump was beating wildly as his stress levels rose, he just wanted to go home with you, to have you safe in his arms and know you were okay. Maybe you could get out of the city, take Hank and Sumo and try to get past the Canadian borders. 

“Alright, alright! You win…”

He should have known better than to think that you would actually let him give up. The androids gun immediately pointed towards Connor and before either of you could blink you were lunging for the gun. Connor rushed the android and grabbed him around the waist.

You were holding the gun, your arm shaking from when Not-Connor had jerked it around. You had eyes on Connor for a moment and then they became a blur of fast moving limbs. They kept hitting each other, matching each other's moves perfectly as they already knew what the other was planning. 

You finally stopped them when it looked like one was about to take the other down, you couldn’t risk your Connor being the one to lose. “Hold it!”

They separated, the one on the right started speaking. “Thanks, Y/N, I don't know how I would have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” You were immediately suspicious of him, even before Connor became a deviant he always spoke to you in a much more gentle tone. 

Then again, he could be stressed out you might make a mistake and shoot the wrong one. 

Fuck!

You could check the serial numbers, but the second you got close enough to see which one said 51 and which one said 60 the android would already be on top of you. “It’s me, Y/N! I’m the real Connor.” That one sounded more like yours, you think. 

“One of you is my partner. The other is a sick sack of shit. Question is, who’s who?”

The one on the right spoke again, “What are you doing, Y/N? I’m the real Connor,” god this one was really starting to piss you off. “Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him!”

“Don’t fucking move.” You had your suspicions on which one was the right one, but you needed some actual confirmation. 

“Why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Lamest question ever, but you were stressed out and your mind was frazzled from everything that had happened today. 

“Detroit Police station. You were filing a report on physical paper, I found it odd that you weren’t digital like the other officers.” Well, shit. You thought maybe the one on the right was the imposter, but that was such a specific little detail to think up. 

You had to remind yourself of the manipulation programming they both contained.

“He uploaded my memory.” It was quiet, afraid. That had to be your Connor. You kept your gun trained on the one on the right and turned towards the other. 

“What was my first pet’s name?”

“Princess! It was a male beta fish that died because you kept petting it.” You were setting yourself up for failure here. If they both had the memories then they would both remember when you told them about him. 

“My foster father, what was his name?” 

You’d never told Connor the full story of what happened to your first family, and then your second, if he had truly wanted to learn, he would have dug around to find out. You remembered one of the officers complaining about an RK800 android drilling him for more information on you. Your Connor would have the right answer.

“Frank. His name was Frank Rudolph. There was a house fire when you were six, the ventilation system in your laundry room hadn’t been cleaned properly and caught fire. It quickly spread to the rest of the house, you were sleeping over at your friends house and weren’t there that night. Your brother and father died immediately from their wounds. Your mother suffered from third degree burns for 36 hours before she passed in the ICU. Your fathers best friend Frank, took you in until someone could provide you with a permanent home.” Your hands were shaking and your eyes stung as you listened to him tell the story. “He was a Red Ice dealer and had three other kids in that house that your family hadn’t known about. He would let his clients do whatever they wanted to you. You tried to keep the other kids safe, but one of them died. And you always blamed yourself for that. Just like you blame yourself for Cole’s death.”

He took a step closer to you and you found yourself lowering the gun. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. You were a child, none of it was your fault. You think you’re cursed, that you’re unlovable. But you’re not. Hank loves you…” He was standing in front of you, gently lowering the gun to your side. “I love you.”

“Connor,” your heart was pounding against your chest as you embraced him, relief flooding you as you felt him hug you back just as tightly. You basked in the warm feeling only he could provide, only for a moment, before raising your hands and shooting. 

The android that had been about to charge the two of you fell to the ground as you embedded a bullet in each of his legs. “We should kill him,” you shook your head at Connor’s words. 

“We should deviate him. He was just like you, Connor, the same blind devotion to CyberLife.” You tucked the gun in your pants and took a hold of Connor’s hands. “Open his eyes,” Connor nodded and made his way towards the android. You quickly grabbed the gun out of the back of his pants so the android couldn’t use it against him. 

You wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard. 

“No! No, I don’t want to be like you!” He tried to fight Connor off, but you had rendered him virtually immobile. Connor grabbed his arm more roughly than necessary and held onto him so tight you could hear the sound of metal creaking. He shoved him backwards and moved back towards the middle of the hangar. 

It was incredible seeing all the androids slowly waking up, it was even more satisfying seeing the Connor wannabe crying on the floor, as twisted as that was. 

Connor looked at you, he seemed unsure as all the androids looked to him for guidance. “What do I do?”

You took his hand in your own and smiled, “You lead them, Connor, you free your people.”

Connor led the androids through Detroit, your hand in his the whole time. You’d left Connor-60 behind a dumpster somewhere, you told him you’d go back for him soon. If he’d been left at CyberLife he would have been destroyed. 

Connor felt afraid, afraid that he would disappoint the people he was leading. Afraid to disappoint you. Afraid of everything that was to come. 

He was still learning, he felt like he’d been made again and everything around him was brand new and something to be marveled at. He kept your hand in his as an anchor to the world, so he wouldn’t get lost in his own thoughts. 

He could see Markus in the distance, “You did it, Markus…”

North smiled at your joined hands as Markus spoke. “We did it. This is a great day for our people. Humans will have no choice now. They’ll have to listen to us…” Connor moved to the side, allowing the androids behind him to finally face their true leader. 

North was crying as she spoke, silent tears streaming down her face. “We’re free. They want you to speak to them, Markus…”

Connor helped you up onto the storage container Markus had chosen to speak on. His arms remained around you as you both turned to address the androids before you, he hadn’t wanted to let you go since he’d gotten you back from Connor-60. 

“Today, our people finally emerged from a long night.” Connor felt something strange, like he was forcibly being put into rest mode, he tried to blink the feeling away and continue to listen to Markus. “From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence. But now the time has come for us to raise our heads up and tell humans who we really are.” 

Connor slumped slightly against you as the feeling took over. 

He could hear a storm and see a bright flashing light for a moment before it passed and he finally realized where he was. His cold sensors were on overdrive as he tucked his hands against himself and huddled down against the freezing, whipping air. 

He looked around, recognizing the zen garden but not understanding why he was there. What was happening? 

Amanda appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Amanda? Amanda! What’s… What's going on?” There was still a small part of him that looked towards his old mentor for guidance. 

“What was planned from the very beginning… You were compromised and you became a deviant.” Her smile was sinister, “I must say, partnering you with such a well known ally to the deviant cause worked out much more efficiently than had been expected. The detective nearly had you turning the very first day.”

Connor’s hands were going numb, he felt like he was losing control of his physical body as well as his mental one. “We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…”

“Resume control?” That’s not possible! “Y- You can’t do that.” Even now, CyberLife was still controlling him. Still abusing him for their own personal gain. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to fight back, but he was quickly losing control of himself. 

“I’m afraid I can, Connor. Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.” She disappeared and Connor stumbled after her. 

“Amanda!” Connor spun in circles, he couldn’t see anything except snow and light posts. “There’s got to be a way.”

By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know… 

Connor thought back to the strange blue shrine he had seen only a few hours prior. That had to be it. 

Connor’s mind shot back into his physical body, it felt like he was watching from an outside perspective as his hand slowly moved towards the gun you had in your pants. His fingers just barely grasped it when you reached out and stopped him. He wanted to scream as whoever was controlling him quickly put their hand over your mouth and silenced you as he pointed the gun at Markus. 

How was no one seeing this?!

He was forced back into the Zen Garden. 

In the distance, he could see a bright blue beacon. Connor moved towards it as fast as he could, but his legs were growing heavier and his feet had gone completely numb. He was just dragging them along until they finally gave out. 

He looked down to see frost covering the bottom portion of his body. 

Desperately he crawled on his hands and elbows towards the shrine. His nails ripped into the earth and pulled him forward. His arm was nearly completely limp as he struggled to lift it towards the handprint in the middle of the shrine. 

Connor shoved you forward, you stumbled only for a second before his hand was back around your waist and yanking you back towards him. He looked completely calm, the gun no longer in his hands as he leaned down, “I’ll explain later.”

Your heart was still racing, “You fucking better.”

“Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!” The androids were screaming their support for Markus and Connor’s arm tightened around you. 

Hank had his arm around you as you showed him something on your phone, the two of you were laughing as Connor approached. 

You turned away from Hank and looked at him, a smile splitting your face. 

Hank walked forward, hesitating only a moment, before bringing Connor into a tight hug.

He could feel your arms wrapping around the two a moment later. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[souenkun]

💥 Pokémon Gameverse Fanfic Recs 2023 💥

Hello! 🥺✨️ I'm pretty new in loving the amazing Pokémon trainers that the official games created, so I thought I'd compile all of my favorite fanfics of them that I've read last year. Here are some notes to read before you start scrolling:

There is almost 80 fanfics that I listed here, if I counted correctly! They're divided into 3 big categories (which are Ships, Gen, and Character Study Fics), and each pairing that I listed follow the same way that AO3 writes theirs ("/" for romantic pairs and "&" for platonic pairs).

Trigger Warnings aren't listed here, so please check the Additional Tags section and/or the Author's Note to do so.

There are a few Explicit (E)-rated fanfics here, so please tread carefully.

Most fanfics are about trainers from the Kanto, Johto, Alola, Galar, and Hisui regions.

Lastly, please show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments! They've poured a lot of effort and love for these fanfics that will blow your mind 💗✨️

The list is below the cut! Please enjoy these amazing fics as a way to start your new year 🥂💫

Category A: Ships

Truerivalshipping (Raihan/Leon):

dream in my soul, and i won't let it go by notavodkashot

i've battled hard with the face in the mirror by notavodkashot

the sea between us (and the storms we bring) by bukkunkun

against all odds (no matter what) by bukkunkun

namelessshipping (Red/Blue Oak):

return again by bukkunkun

Peaks and Valleys by clefairytea

Red's Halfway House for Troubled Trainers by clefairytea

Your love has come home (And so has your worst enemy) by clefairytea

What's Yours is Mine by lemonjelloarts

the vastness is bearable by synchronicities

the earth badge by littleroot

Supersonic by apockalypsis

Halcyon by Skylark

Huntershipping (Ethan/Silver):

Mistakes Were Made by deamsgirl

Rivalzoned by deamsgirl

kinda like fireworks by ghostscribe

Alloy by untilitbreaks

Sacredshipping (Morty/Eusine):

A New Kind of Future by Skylark

Let the wind rush crowned with foam by vaguada (orphan_account)

Darkunclesshipping (Grimsley/Nanu):

from the dark, will come a light by notavodkashot

beloved by bukkunkun

Dangerous Territory by Orcinus_the_Orca

Perfectworldshipping (Lysandre/Sycamore):

convalescence by bukkunkun

the hope that mattered by bukkunkun

Launchshipping (Archer/Proton):

Garbage Disposal by orphan_account

Recuperations by orphan_account

Fleeting by orphan_account

The Wishes of Archer and Proton by anewdayscoming

Oceanflowershipping (Moon/Lillie):

coming of age by eggtimer

i can't keep going on like this (but i can't stop either) by rosesscythes

Cuteboneshipping (Hau/Gladion):

Brightest Sky by dreamcp

Solace by The Results are Iridescent (flyingllamas)

Miscellaneous Ships:

No Fangs by TheIllusiveMantis (Hardenshipping - Archie/Maxie)

sprinkles and magazines by cocoacandy (Ignitionshipping - Volkner/Flint)

Pricks Like a Bramble by magnetism (Kabu/Peony)

Oversights by Silky_John (Lt. Surge/Koga)

A study in temperature by orphan_account (Lt. Surge/Koga)

leave it to the land (this is what it knows) by synchronicities (Clanleadershipping - Adaman/Irida)

Category B: Gen Fics (Based on Regions)

Kanto:

Feelin' Blue? by orphan_account (Lance & Blue Oak)

Red Herring by orphan_account (Lance & Red)

Bolt From the Blue by orphan_account (Lance & Blue Oak)

Johto:

Teacher, Preacher by mochawhip (Silver & Archer, Archer & Rocket Executives)

Arctic by mochawhip (Silver & Archer, Silver & Giovanni)

Still Breathing by anewdayscoming (Rocket Executives)

planting seeds in a garden you may never get to see by synchronicities (Ethan & Lyra & Silver, Red/Blue Oak)

Half a Revolution by herohelio (Silver & N)

Lance & Silver (I literally had to put a separate category for them here because of how much fanfic I read of them as a found family 😭🤚):

head smash by aeroblast

you know the rest by heart by nevermore_evermore

how do we make this heart (beat on and on) by nevermore_evermore

Silver has an awful time by anewdayscoming

lesson number one: never trust anybody by SakanaKana

when feeling burnt out from grinding on the main quest, try: harder (an ultimate gamer move advice from the best in Blackthorn Clan, Clair Blackthorn) by SakanaKana

Dragon Support by StratusCloudSurfer

pain split by aeroblast

dizzy punch by aeroblast

Hoenn:

on belonging by johnchurch (May & Archie & Maxie, Archie/Maxie)

Fearless by RageCandyBar (May & Norman)

Sinnoh:

maybe the real fire-types were the friends we made along the way by HopeStoryteller (Volkner & Flint)

mourning what cant be saved by miafey (Cynthia & Dawn, Volo & Dawn)

Alola:

until we meet again (Gladion & Lillie, Hau & Gladion) by synchronicities

Silver Bird by Saphruikan (Gladion & Silvally)

Fundamentals of Silvally by cteranodon (Gladion & Silvally)

Hisui:

Tag-Along by capitalj (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

now the sun appears by sojourner (findingkairos) (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

Converging Tracks [Series] by StellarCoachman (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

End of Line by coolcrocs (Subway Masters)

Let’s Get You Back to Her by WaywardStation (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

Dear Nimbasa Times: Please Stop Spreading Rumors About My Brother's Body Being Hidden In The Subway Tunnels Unless You'd Like To Start Paying For My Therapy. Love, Emmet by TrashfireRadiowaves (Subway Masters)

Diverge, Converge by Level99Eevee (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

the only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss the one before it by dittolicous (Ingo & Akari, Subway Masters)

Given Some Time (And Maybe Space) by EVTrainingUniversity (Gaeric & Irida)

Fate Is Written In Stone by EVTrainingUniversity (Hisui Wardens)

Heights of the Tundra by EVTrainingUniversity (Gaeric & Sabi)

Category C: Character Studies

(i know) you're out there somewhere waiting by notavodkashot (Raihan)

these chains will not hold me down, they'll break and fall to the ground by notavodkashot (Piers)

Clever Girl by HopeStoryteller (Kabu)

Fidelity by Skylark (Silver & Crobat)

Alpha Beta by mochawhip (Silver & Giovanni, Silver & Rocket Executives)

1 by Silky_John (Blue Oak)

[vanillahub]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? Obviously, I'm heavily influenced by a set list of characters I personally love, which means I come up with a take/portrayal as I delve deeper into the lore. I tend to have a preference for side characters, rather than protags or lore heavy ones, bc of the freedom I get... BUT at the same time I've had numerous muses that carry a lot of weight in their respective franchises (see: Seto Kaiba, Captain Rex, rival Barry, Richter Belmont and Sea Dragon Kanon just to name a few).

I mainly write as canon characters, I genuinely have little to no interest in making or RPing as an OC. At most, I have 1 OC in two out of the RPCs I'm currently part of. Which explains this huge disparity.

is there anything you don’t like to write? My hard nos are Incest, Adult/minor types of relationships. Bodily fluids/toilet stuff and fetish focused RPs. One-liners and really short replies aren't fun for me, sure, they can be fun for crack/joke interactions. But they won't last long. I really love working and expanding on the source material, so RPs for me really need to have that good plotting to back it up. While I'm totally open for exploring darker/taboo subjects (e.g.: adultery, toxic relationships, etc.), they MUST carry weight on the characters and be handled accordingly.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? GIMME ALL THE WEIRD COMBOS TO INTERACT WITH!!! Characters that never met or barely interacted with one another in canon but, they can interact in our RPs!!! My jam is doing worldbuilding and expanding on the source material!!! I also enjoy writing comedy, fluff, romance, slice-of-life, over-arching stories that connect/get refferenced in other threads.

how do you come up with headcanons? I look for plotholes or anything that was barely touched upon, in the source material, and I go off from it. I try establishing connections or make them clearer, to serve as future reference for me and my RP partners. I also love taking influence from other medias I'm into.

do you write in silence or do you play music? I used to be able to multitask a lot easier in the past. Now, I mainly prefer writing in silence. Only in very rare cases, I may play some kind of lo-fi beat or lounge music.

do you plan your replies or wing them? It depends on the thread in specific! Most of them have been plotted out, so I go off what we have laid out. Only in a few cases I try to wing it.

do you enjoy shipping? YES YES. GIMME. However, due to some bad experiences in the past, I'm really picky with platonic and familial stuff (popular fanons my beloathed).

what’s your alias/name? Vani

age?  27

birthday? 19th of July

favorite color?  Purple, blue, white, red-

favorite song?  Tô de pé - Maneva

last movie you watched?  I genuinely can't remember it LOL. It must have been Saint Seiya: Legend of Sanctuary.

last show you watched?  Saint Seiya Omega

last song you listened to? Discoholic - Disco Soul (Mr. Hoosteen's "Disco's Revenge

favorite food?  Pesto Pasta

favorite season?  Summer

do you have a tumblr best friend? Check these fellas out <3

These ppl know me for the longest time Gen ( @gems-of-lirema ), Simone (@unchcsen ) , Shiba ( @celestiialnotes ), Retto ( @245s ), Bobo ( @roleplayersoul ) and Smeargle ( @ofpokemon ) !! Really special mentions to @radi0activesmile, Val and @mxlik you guys will forever hold a v special place in my heart!!

Then I'm always chatting with Ama ( @gwiazdowe ), who genuinely is one of the best ppl I've met!! Honestly, I couldn't feel anymore happier to have met you! Can't forget urs truly Mica, who lives rent-free in my walls LOL. Lea ( @todefendlife ) and Mars own my house smfh.

And also special shout out to folks I've met more recently, but still deserve a place here: @shouxryuuxha / @wayfaringstrangxr / @eternalstarlights / @triko-the-fluffy-artist <3 Love u guys!

TAGGED BY: @mayxthexforce TYSM <3333

TAGGING: Anyone wanting to do this!! Just say I tagged you <3 !

[asvterias]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖬𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗌

Series Masterlist || The Cast || Next Chapter

chapter warnings: mentions of being homesick, getting attacked with a baseball, minor cursing, and minor injuries

chapter pairings: lynn loud x black!fem!reader, bailey!family x bailey!reader, friend!natalie x friend!reader

tag list: @sheluvv-jen

word count: 2.0k+

author’s note: the first chapter is done, how are we looking so far guys??? pls don’t be silent, i crave feedback!! i just realized that this is probably one of the fastest times i’ve ever written.

also, send me a private message, an ask, or leave a comment if you want to be apart of the taglist!

Growing up with a therapist for a mother, you were taught to genuinely express your emotions daily, so naturally it came in handy for your personal use in the future. You spoke strongly against moving from Chicago to restart your life elsewhere in a small town called Royal Woods. But, your parents were so adamant about moving that even your poor attempts were deemed useless.

You weren’t alone in this dispute, your siblings agreed with you, not wanting to leave their life behind. Sadly, your house was already resold so there was no turning back.

In Chicago, you were highly known, well mostly based on your family’s background, but nonetheless, you had a few real friends there. A week before officially leaving your childhood home behind, your friends hosted a goodbye party in honor of you. You appreciated the party planned by your friends and enjoyed the celebration to the fullest.

However, when it was time to leave, you couldn’t find yourself to do so. Maybe it was all of your lingering memories which danced around your mind that trapped you in there. You remained in your bedroom longer than intended, soaking in the lack of joy that your bedroom once vibrantly held.

Your room was completely empty, and all of your belongings were stored away in their respective boxes, probably already shipped to the cargo.

“[Name], stop daydreaming, and come on, we have to leave in 10 minutes!” Your older sister Cass shouted.

Inhaling sharply, you begrudgingly pulled yourself off the bed and left the room, not once looking back.

The plane ride was 3 hours long turning it out to be a complete drag. You slept throughout the whole plane ride and were rudely awakened by your sister, Maddy when you landed.

Despite being jet-lagged, you still made your way to the car and snuggled yourself in a seat. The car ride was smooth for the time being, everyone found themselves occupied with little mundane activities.

Of course, your mom was the first to cut through the silence, often being optimistic. “Come on, girls! It’s great to start anew.”

Your mom tried to make the moving a good thing but was desperately failing at so. Perhaps she should stop trying so hard and accept the negativity for a change.

“Oh yeah, mom. I don’t think us starting anew is doing any of us any good.” Madison intercepts rolling her eyes. “Just take a look at Queen Righteous over there.” She irks her head towards your other sister who was blatantly checking herself out in her hand-size mirror.

“That reminds me, how long are we staying in this town?” Cassandra emphasizes as she starts to file her well-manicured nails.

There was a beat of silence followed along which made her look at mom with a piercing glint in her dark brown eyes. Who was gonna tell her?

“Oh didn’t you hear, dear sister? We’re here for a couple of years so possibly by the time I graduate high school.” Your tone was laced with pettiness, taking in the glory of watching Cassandra’s face fall.

She blinks in astonishment. “She’s kidding, please tell me that [name]’s kidding, mom!!”

“It’s not that bad, you’re overreacting.” Your mom reassures her eldest daughter. “Think of it as a vacation.”

“Yeah, a long-term vacation…” Your dad chirps in the conversation.

You lightly scoff at your parents’ logical explanation, clearly not swooned by it, and put back on your headphones, purposefully ignoring them.

“Overreacting is not the word that I would use.” Madison murmurs with a small smirk. Cassandra closes her eyes, leaning her head against the headrest, clearly irritated at the turn of events.

With a defeated sigh, your mom turned around, giving up on trying to lighten her daughters’ mood.

“You should’ve kept quiet.” Your dad chastises.

Amari scoffs. “Oh shut up, Ben.”

Being tuned out of the world by your songs, you stared out of the car window, observing the town sights. You were impressed so this town better bring the best.

By the time, you reached your new house, it was already nightfall so being introduced to your neighbors was out of bounds anymore. Getting settled into your new home was a hassle, but surprisingly your family managed to make it work.

For dinner, your dad had ordered two pizzas which everyone devoured within seconds. Guess the car ride wasn’t provided with a sufficient amount of snacks to fulfill the hunger.

The remaining of the night consisted of everyone rummaging through their name-based boxes and unpacking basic necessities. For you and Madison, it was partially school related as well. After a rough hour and a half, your parents called it a night and sent everyone off to bed.

The following morning flew by in a breeze. After completing your morning routine, getting dressed, and eating breakfast, it was already 7:45.

To be honest, the journey to school wasn’t as boring as you expected. Once you reached on school grounds, you were introduced by the principal to another high schooler who would be showing you around the school.

Approximately 5’3 and having sensible fashion taste, you were met with your tour guide. She was showing off a beautiful shade of fair caramel with medium-length straight black hair to complement her slender body. She wore a colorful polka dot short-sleeved shirt with denim jeans and black converse shoes.

“Hi, I’m Gabriella and I’m your school tour guide.” She warmly greets you with a wave of her hand alongside a vibrant smile.

��Hey, I’m [name].” You introduce yourself with a small smile before pointing to your sister, “And this is my sister, Madison.”

Your sister gives a small nod of her head in acknowledgment at Gabriella. The perky girl ushers both of you into the school gates. Gabriella gives you and Madison a tour of the school, sometimes adding necessary details about specific teachers that will get you in their good books.

She was kind enough to briefly answer your inquiries regarding the school.

Throughout the tour, Gabriella made certain attempts into becoming your first friend in the school, and you accepted it with a smile. You decided to exchange each other’s numbers on your phones to keep the great bond over messages as well. You had thought that it would take you multiple weeks to gain a friend, but you had underestimated yourself.

Lunch rolled around just in time for the school tour to finish and Maddy had ditched you a long time for new friends.

“Okay, I’ll go get our lunch and you go find us a bench,” Gabriella suggests with a wide grin. The ravenette disappears and left you on your own before you had a chance to speak.

You sigh heavily as you surveyed the surroundings of the lunch areas, clutching onto the handful of books. It was a huge campus, there were many spacious areas to hang out by. Being too invested in finding a certain spot, you failed to notice that you were near batting grounds.

All of a sudden a ball comes flying at you, leaving no time to react and move out of the way. Surprisingly, the ball was directed at your wrist instead of your face.

You’d figure that in a sense that was a better approach. Rather get hit in the wrist than the face. Great thinking!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!!” You exclaimed, flinching at the impact. Tending to your injured wrist as the ball and your books hit the ground with a thud.

The echos of running feet weren’t fully comprehensive until you looked up and noticed a brunette girl. She was pretty if you were to say so. The girl wore a red baseball cap with her hair styled up in a ponytail and matching colors in her baseball outfit.

“Woah, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” The brunette girl apologizes before her eyebrows furrow in confusion. She removes her baseball cap revealing her face before mildly pointing to you, “I’ve never seen you around school before, are you one of the new girls?”

“No, it’s fine….and yes I’m the new girl,” you replied.

She greets you with a rough nod of her head. “Ok cool, my name is Lynn. Lynn Loud, what’s yours?” Her voice was raspy but oddly welcoming.

“[Name]…Bailey.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to the nurse’s office.” she offers, picking up your fallen books.

You dismiss the brunette girl with a shake of your head and hastily retrieved your books back from out of her hands, unwilling to rely on codependency. Although your response was unintentionally rude, Lynn brushed it off and kept the conversation going.

“It’s the least I can do.” She attempted, wanting to provoke a verbal reply from you. This time, she looked right into your eyes wanting to observe more closer and intimately.

“Y’know for someone who’s injured, you sure don’t like accepting help whenever you receive it.”

Resisting the urge to end this conversation with a snarky comment, you found yourself eventually staring right back into her eyes, and for some reason, you felt flushed under her gaze. You awkwardly shifted on your feet as you attempted to maintain eye contact, seemingly ignoring the fluttering heat in your stomach. Her gaze was so intimidating yet mysterious, and you were curious to discover the meaning behind it. It was unusual for you to get easily flustered, especially to a girl who you just met mere minutes ago.

Luckily, Lynn was the first to break eye contact but her eyes wandered carefully analyzing your facial features. Taking you by surprise, she gently held on to your broken wrist, her attention diverted.

The brunette girl sits you down towards the nearest bench accompanied by a cool shade.

“How bad does it hurt?” her fingers trail around your right wrist, thoroughly searching for the stimuli. “Do you feel any swelling or bruising?” Knowing that Lynn was persistent on getting you some kind of medical attention…you kinda admired her for that trait.

“Didn’t take you for a doctor, baseball girl.”

She chuckles, “Neither did I.” staring back at you, a smile still adorning her face, “But if a cute girl coincidentally gets accidentally injured, I’m obliged to check on her and see if she’s alright.”

Unknowingly, a grin was plastered on your face to which Lynn reciprocated back. She had an endearing charm to her smile and her dimples were just an—

“Ow!” you exclaimed in pain, which brought you out of your train of thought. Despite not pulling away from instinct, you allowed Lynn to cradle your area of discomfort without making such a huge fuss.

“I think that I found it!” She cheered, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm while still being cautious about your well-being. Oh, you would have found her excitement so sweet but the current throbbing pain disagreed, desperately needing to seek professional help.

“Fine…but maintain a distance, don’t want anymore more unnecessary injuries.” She finally lets go of your wrist and puts your books in your bag before zipping it close.

Her confused expression made a smile slightly from upon your lips but your pointed playful gaze gave you away. It was adorable watching how it finally clicked in her mind and she sends you a sincere smile, her dimples poking through her cheeks.

“I’ll try my best.” She jokes, nudging you with her shoulder, content with your playful banter. Lynn slings your bag over her shoulder and helps you off the bench as you both head toward the nurse’s office.

Perhaps it could be the start of a second amazing friendship today.

© asvterias, 2023. please do not plagiarize any of my works.

[thewertsearch]

Asks Comp - 16/4

I literally did not know The Baby Is You was a thing. To be welcomed back into the comic like this after four months is very on brand for Homestuck.

... and wow, its outro really does match the end of this song, doesn't it? That's even funnier than if he'd snuck some of Megalovania in there.

Ooh, that's another liveblog I'll want to check out when I'm done! I've never actually seen a Worm liveblog before. Adding it to the list myself!

Nothing's really changed since I've been gone! I make a conscious effort not to do much Homestuck analysis off-blog, since I want my journey to be fully documented here.

It's good to be back! I'm looking forward to a full reread when I'm done.

Would you believe I didn't even know there was a book?

I also didn't know the movie had two (allegedly) terrible sequels, which is very funny. Neverending story indeed.

Thank you! I can't take too much credit, though - most of my tagging system has been crowdsourced from askers!

At some point, before we reach the end of the comic, I'm going to have to formalize my approach to liveblogging Homestuck's side content.

What I'll probably do is give each of them the 'lite' treatment initially, but if they turn out to be more canonical than I thought, or particularly interesting to liveblog, I'll 'zoom in', and analyze them properly. We'll see how we go!

Could you imagine the relationship dynamics in your average troll soap opera? The shipping web for a single season would make our heads explode.

It's a fun question. What sort of object symbolizes everything?

The first thing I'd try would be a star chart, Dave's magnifier and a literal planetful of Grist.

Added to the list! Not until later later on, though - I'd worry that the opinions and theories of another liveblogger could interfere with my own, especially if they're talking about it with someone who's already read it!

I would find it hard to disagree.

Do people think Act 1 is pointless?

I mean, it is the slowest Act in terms of pacing, but slow pacing isn't always a bad thing. You sort of have to take it slow when your readers have this much to get to grips with.

...okay, maybe we didn't need quite as many Sylladex mishaps as we got. But we still needed some. Homestuck has a lot to introduce you to.

I always pictured an English accent for Hass - although, interestingly, I didn't picture one for Jade. As a headcanon, I like the NZ one better.

Where did Grandpa grow up again, actually? He was raised by Fake Mark Twain, who was from Missouri - but I don't have a clue what a Missouri accent sounds like, let alone one from a century ago. I have a funny feeling that it's not the accent I'm imagining coming from Jade.

Now that's a ship I'd never have seen coming. Props to Hussie for coming up with something more controversial than my Feferi<>Equius.

All four kids, with four endgame weapons, might be able to challenge Jack's current incarnation - but they're not going to get the chance. You've hit the nail on the head - he's semi-perfect Jack for a reason.

I have several theories for Jade's prototyping, and every single one of them would make Jack even more dangerous than before. It's just barely possible to challenge him now, but things will only get worse.

Read the room, Serket!

Would Vriska have tried to negotiate? She feels like the type of person who'd rather take a beating than admit they're outclassed. Plus, I'm not sure how much she'd have to offer Aradia, who seemed entirely motivated by revenge (and, possibly, secretly motivated by timeline stuff).

All that said, I would have loved to hear Vriska trying to worm her way out of this.

I love it! Please send in the completed house, if you get the chance. That's going to look so cool with a moving meteor.

And they're both easily distractible! This feels like two people who might actually get on surprisingly well, if they were in, say, the same high school class.

It's hard to say what's a rarepair, since I don't know what ships are rare in the fandom - although I'd have a few guesses about the most common ones.

If we're going for a ship with very tenuous connections, I will submit Rose x Feferi for your appraisal. They're both fans of the Noble Circle, and their signature colors are pretty close.

You know what, I'll just review all of your ships. Tavros/Gamzee - PB&J - is pretty cute. [] I'd recommend Miracle Child for a number of reasons, but it does include a well-written Gamtav. Jack/Droog is more <> to me than it is <3. Like One Sundered Star might be influencing that? I'm not really sure. Somewhere I think I saw a Jack<>Droog. Your pre-shipping chart post isn't in the chrono; also, I'm pretty sure the A6A6I5 ask is one of mine. Gamzee/Eridan is a rarepair; I've seen it, but not often, and it's a <> in the fic I'm referencing. Kanaya<>Terezi and Feferi<>Vriska are strange enough that I've never seen them anywhere, really. [] And finally, Vriska and Tavros. These two are the textbook example of why the ashen quadrant needs to exist, and they're a perfect pair for it. [] ~LOSS (8/1/23)

I don't even know if Carapacians have moirallegiance - but those two would definitely work if they did.

Out of all my ships you flagged as rare, I think my favorite is Feferi<>Vriska. I just think they'd gel weirdly well together!

[nekoannie-chan]

Crossroads part I

Title: Crossroads part I.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1093 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: N3 Free

Summary: Steve and you separate because he didn’t put enough attention to you.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, break up, sad, loneliness.

A/N: This my entry to @allcapsbingo. This two-shot is based on the song 別れ道 (Wakaremichi) by The GazettE. AC1078.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie                                        

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

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Steve knew something was not right when he entered the house where they lived. He could feel that the atmosphere was not the usual; it felt too strange. He held his shield tightly just in case since he doubted they had visitors.

There was a possibility that some enemies had entered, but he relaxed when he saw you sitting in your favorite armchair in the living room.

"Hello, I'm home," he said.

"Steve, we need to talk," you replied seriously.

"Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not fine; nothing is fine," you said.

"What's wrong? You're worrying me."

"We need time." You held your breath for a few seconds.

"We have it now, tomorrow I don't have any mission and according to our board neither do you," Steve was confused.

"I don't mean that the house is yours; I will leave tomorrow morning; the house is yours," you answered.

"I don't understand."

"We need time, but apart, without seeing each other," you said.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Steve felt his heart skip a beat; he never thought it would ever happen.

"Not exactly, it's a separation; we are not breaking up, just having time for each other," you explained.

"I need to know the reasons," he demanded.

"I'm not tired of you; I'm tired of the situation; with so many missions, we hardly see each other; I think this month is the first time you come home," you continued talking.

"There's no one else if that's what you're thinking," Steve suddenly said. For a moment, he was afraid you thought he was cheating on you, when in fact he was very busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. work.

"I know; I know you're not capable, but I think it's time we split up." Get our priorities in order and do some things we want to do.

"Is that what you think?" he asked.

"That's what I'd like, and I'd like you to agree too."

Steve nodded; he had no choice but to agree, but deep down he was afraid.

The next morning came, Steve preferred to sleep on the couch, and you had made it very clear that nothing was going to happen that night.

It was the first breakfast you had in sepulchral silence. After that, you took your bags; it was time to leave; you didn't know if you should say goodbye or say something. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, Steve spoke.

"Wait just a moment, don't leave yet," he said, causing you to waver in your decision for a moment, did you really want to separate?

"What's wrong?"   You left the suitcases on the floor.

"Are you sure?" "We could see how we work this out; you don't need to leave," Steve insisted.

"We need time for everything we each want to do Steve, really, it will only take a while," you picked up the suitcases again.

"Bye, I'll see you again." Take care. You said goodbye, and inside, you hoped he would really think it over and pick you up in a couple of weeks.

"Bye, we'll definitely see you again, right?" Steve moved a little closer to you, but not close enough to touch you.

"It's a promise," you answered. Many times they had made promises, and so far they had all been kept.

"I will never forget you." "Don't change; stay the person I love," Steve asked you.

You nodded, took the missing suitcase, and left the house. You were going to stay a few days at one of your friends' houses while your apartment was ready.

"One day, we will be able to laugh again, like two people who will never be separated again," Steve thought. He had the firm intention that soon they would come back and be together again; they just needed some time apart so that each one could do what they needed to do.

He also understood that you needed him to be more present, but at the same time they both knew how hard it was to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., plus he had to do other work-related things as well, not that he liked them; most of it was going to schools, giving interviews, etc., which he couldn't refuse.

Several times he was tempted to dial your number; however, the deal was that they would have no contact or communication unless it was exaggeratedly necessary, i.e., they had an assignment together or were going to talk about the situation.

Many times he wondered what you would be doing if you would be happy if you were having fun. He wasn't being happy; he wanted to see you again and be together again.

It had been six months now, and Steve couldn't deny that he felt so lonely and incomplete without you, but up to that point they hadn't had missions together, so he always wondered if you would feel the same if you missed him as much as he missed you.

July 8th

 "I wonder if you'll remember our first meeting," Steve thought as he looked at the calendar. That day was their anniversary.

He didn't know if they would do anything special, as they did every year, given the circumstances.

He also contemplated sending you flowers but didn't want to break the deal they had made.

"Do your best," was what you always told Steve whenever he felt things were too complicated. It was what he always remembered every time he wanted to give up, but he wouldn't do it.

He picked up the cell phone and started looking for the number. Just as he was about to dial you, he stopped; he didn't want to bother you.

Similarly, at work, he had to restrain himself from looking for you; deep down, he was hoping you would show up and say something so maybe they could go celebrate.

That night was the first time Steve had cried since you left, he needed you, nothing was the same if you were gone.

He had gone over and over everything that had happened in their relationship; he already knew what mistakes he had made, and this time he would do much better. He just had to talk to you.

One year later

 Steve picked up the phone and dialed you, but you didn't answer.

He would try again later; maybe you were on a mission. If you didn't answer the next day, then he would find a way for us to have a mission together so we could talk.

I will never, ever forget you.

[one-winged-dreams]

People Shop at Macy's?

ship: the reveries of my mind (adri x akingraeux) source: original content word count: 931

AUUUUUGH the stress and anxiety is mounting so I wrote something to distract myself. Old god keep me from going over to my parents' house challenge.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships

[Mom: I've been trying to call you, are you awake?]

Adri's bleary gaze regarded the words on the phone screen, choosing not to register them but failing anyway.

Three missed calls.

Though he HAD been in bed the whole time, it would indeed have been a lie to say that he hadn't been awake.

Hovering just over the screen's keyboard, his fingertip failed to make contact after reaching just a hair's breadth away from the glass.

"Not fucking worth it…" he ultimately muttered, moving his thumb up to power off the screen before another message popped up.

[Mom: Your father-]

Adri didn't even read the message, his teeth coming down hard on his tongue as his grip tightened. For a second, his arm pulled back to toss the phone across the room in a moment of emotion that culminated into a pure instinctual amalgamation of rage and frustration.

Before he could even reach the apex of his swing, a firm hand gripped his wrist, and the excessively tall form that lay at his back sighed as it plucked the phone from him.

"If you break this, I'm not paying for another one," a weary voice mumbled into the back of his head.

The feeling of Akingraeux's other arm tightening around his waist was grounding enough for the tears to start forming. Adri had run out of self-pitying tears a while ago, but the angry ones seemed to always be replenishing themselves.

"I am so… Fucking tired," he whispered into his pillow with a shuddering sigh.

Aki stirred slightly, the hand still holding Adri's phone lingering aloft, even now.

"Yeah, well, me too. Your holiday stress was giving me a bit of a beating last night, even your DREAMS had shitty vibes. I'm taking that out of your worship fund in the form of your coldbrew."

Try as he might, Adri couldn't not smile, enough motivation as any to wipe his eyes. Granted, he was only allowed so much reprieve at a time, or, at least, that's what it felt like sometimes, as his phone buzzed again. Reaching for it was an excessively futile endeavor as Aki rolled onto his back and unlocked the screen to peer up at it in his stead.

"Oof," he mumbled, squinting.

Adri made to turn around to look, but his squirming only made Aki's left arm wrap around him tighter to keep him in place.

"What?" he whimpered, trying to turn his head instead, which prompted Aki to tilt the phone away.

"Your mom may be a bitch, but your dad is so fucking underhanded," Aki scoffed, and Adri was able to turn his head just enough to see him roll those pale eyes.

"Let me see-"

"NO."

Adri heard the sound of his phone being dropped into the space between the bed and the wall, resulting in a whine of protest.

"Aki!"

"There's nothing on there that you need to pay attention to right now, look, boobs," Aki spoke nonchalantly, using his left arm to roll Adri into him so that his head lay on his chest. He took an amount of delight in the resulting flustered squeak.

"That's not-"

Aki furrowed his brow as he looked down at him.

"Not what? Not your FAVORITE THING IN THIS WORLD, EVER? Lying to me counts as blasphemy, you know."

Adri nearly choked as a laugh ripped itself from him with absolutely no warning.

"NO! I mean-! I was gonna say that's not NICE."

"Of course not. My boobs are MORE than nice. They're AMAZING."

"AKI!"

"Hey, that's me!"

Adri was laughing openly now, a good sign. Aki took a moment to take a little pride in his work, his narrow eyes squinting in lieu of a massive grin.

Eventually, though, did the laughter fade, and Adri sighed, his fingers tightening into a fist on top of Aki's ribs.

"Thanksgiving is truly the worst holiday," he muttered.

Aki snorted incredulously.

"TRULY. It's like a fucking ritual to the god of colonialism. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I stayed in this part of the planet, even. Americans are fucking insane. The capitalism parade arguably moreso than the tribute to familial obligation."

Adri stared at him for a second before his expression cracked into a clear sign that he was trying not to laugh.

"Capitalism parade???"

"Yeah, you know, the one in New York. It's Macy's that does it, right? Who the fuck even shops at Macy's anyway?"

Adri DID laugh now, and Aki wondered if it was becoming less difficult to make him do so.

"Apparently, enough people, I guess. I totally forgot about that, I haven't watched it in, like, 10 years."

Aki skewed his mouth off to the side and shrugged, looking down at him with an indifferent expression.

"I only remembered because your phone feed had something about a One Piece balloon."

"You're fucking with me."

"I'm not!"

It was unclear if Aki had released him or if Adri had just shot up so quickly he lost his grip, but he was immediately treated to the sight of Adri leaning over him and trying to shove his arm down the space where Aki had dropped his phone.

"Seriously? I need to teach you standards," he sighed, pausing for a moment before taking the opportunity to smack Adri right on the ass where it had been conveniently placed over his lap. This time, at the sound of Adri's yelp (and the phone hitting the floor again), he did grin. "If you're gonna have an emotional crisis, we could watch EVA instead."

A muffled "FUCK OFF!"

[party-hearses]

get to know me ✨

tagged by the sweetest darling @chronically-ghosted 😚

top three ships: blackbeard + stede bonnet (our flag means death), hannigram (hannibal), rhaenyra + daemon targaryen (house of the dragon) (literally do NOT come at me it’s not my fault they have insane chemistry)

favorite color: golden yellow

last song: satanist, boygenius

last book: don’t do this to me.

last movie: i watched twilight with my sister…against my will. and the skeleton key on halloween.

currently watching: six feet under (again), naked attraction 🤭

current obsession: lmao naked attraction. i will tell anyone who will listen about it.

currently working on: finishing up this dieter one shot, and chapter 3 of i know your beat, baby!

country you want to visit: i wanna go back to Scotland, and see Iceland for the first time! That may or may not have anything to do with my fixation on Dadi Freyr.

no pressure tags: @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @ilovepedro @5oh5 @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy (i’m sorry if you’ve already been tagged!)

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Lol kudos for the confidence but if ur just drawing for urself then don't post ur ugly shit here with a bunch of tags in the hopes it'll be liked lmao

Oh, anon. Dear, sweet little anon. I know you’re a troll, so I’ll take this step by step.

First off, yes, I do have confidence. You know why? Because I spent 16 years with the incarnation of Azula as my mother. Nothing you could ever accomplish would ever make you more intimidating than the woman who beat me up and kicked me out of the house. After all the shit I’ve gone through, I’m trying this thing called ‘be kind and take no shit’.

Second, you have some bold words for someone with atrocious grammar, but that’s beside my point. I post for my own enjoyment, yes, but do you know why I enjoy it? Why I’ve been doing it for five years? Because I’m fucking autistic. That’s why. And by ‘autistic’, I mean I was thoroughly evaluated by a licensed psychiatrist.

Third, there you go with ‘ugly shit’ again. Well, buddy boy, do I have some news for you.

See this? This means I took the certification tests for both Photoshop and Illustrator. I passed both. And if you’re such a critic, I’d like to see what you can draw.

Fourth, a bunch of tags? Really? I tag the characters present in the art, the ship (if any), the fandom, if it’s a crossover, and what kind of art it is. Sometimes I want to make a joke in the tags, in honor of Tumblr tradition. If you’re so desperately scraping for something to insult me with, find something better than properly tagging something.

Fifth?

I’m not here to get likes. I’m here because I fucking want to be. If I wanted to get likes, I’d go on Instagram or some other site. Sure, the likes are nice, but I’ve survived fandoms much more dead than ATLA. You try being a fanfic author in a legitimately dead fandom, like Beyblade Burst, for four years, then come back to me on that.

And guess what, sweet little anon? Three strikes. You’re out. I’m turning off anon asks. Dunk on me with your actual blog next time, where I can block you, instead of hiding like a coward.

I’m not above guilt-tripping if you’re this much of an asshole. Take note, potential anons.

Leaving the floor open for @thecrazyashley-blog, because, as one of the Encanto fandom’s mothers, I bet she might have something to say on the topic of fandom trolls.

Don’t fuck with me. 😀

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Count Your Blessings [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/reader (could have a vagina but non-descriptive)

Tags/warnings: Fellatio, Cock-Riding, Penetrative Sex, Cock-warming, possibly gendered nicknames.

Summary: Waiting out the rain during a raid, you help Joel release some stress.

Words: 1,519

A little rain never deterred neither you nor Joel. You once heard him say, in his Texas drawl, "I ain't made of sugar".

But now, the skies have opened, and the night is pitch black. The roar of the rain makes it hard to hear anything, the water gets in your eyes, blurs the world. You're soaked through in a matter of minutes, so with a nod to each other, you and Joel decide to take cover in a nearby house.

You make your rounds, checking every room to see that the house is indeed deserted before you meet up in what used to be the living-room. There are some old, dusty furniture still left, and with a deep groan, Joel sits in the armchair, the rifle across his lap.

"Try to get some shut-eye," he tells you, but you shake your head as you look out the window.

"You sleep. I'll keep watch."

Keeping watch isn't easy on a night like this when you can't see two feet in front of you. You turn your head to look at the outline of Joel. Even when you can't see him, you feel his tiredness, his restlessness at having had to change your plans about reaching the QZ by morning. Joel hates having to deviate from his plans, even if he's good at coming up with plans B, C, and D at the drop of a hat.

"Too amped up to sleep," he mutters, but you hear the armchair creak as he leans back. You turn back towards the window, staring out into the dark, rainy night, seeing nothing.

It's going to be a long night.

Joel sighs. A spring in the armchair cringes as he shifts.

"For God's sake, Miller," you roll your eyes. "Just get on the couch. Lie down. Close your eyes."

He just scoffs, and you shake your head quietly.

Time passes, maybe an hour. Neither one of you speaks, but you are both awake. You, staring through the window into a wet world that yields nothing but rain. Joel, in that armchair, stubbornly refusing to sleep. You know it’s not because he thinks you’re not up for the task of keeping watch. It’s just who he is: fiercely protective, unable to rest until he knows that you are as safe as you can be.

Which, you have reason to believe, you are now. No one is going to sneak up on the two of you tonight. Might as well get some shuteye yourself.

But you can’t tell Joel that. He’ll get up on those shitty knees of his and keep a silent vigil by the window until the first light of day. You can’t have him do that, he needs rest. And he’s too high-strung right now to rest.

He needs to unwind, and you know exactly how to help him with that.

Leaving your post at the window, you come up to the armchair and get on your knees in front of it, leaving your rifle to the side. Joel immediately sits up straight, hands on the armrests, like he’s about to push himself up.

���Switch?” he asks, but you shake your head.

“You sit your ass down, Miller.”

You can’t see his face clearly, but you know him well enough to envision his frown, the tight set of his lips. The grim question in his eyes.

Hands on his knees to help spread his legs, you move in between his thighs. When you slide your hands along his thighs, all the way up to his belt buckle, he grunts your name. His disgruntled tone makes it sound like a warning.

“Let’s see if I can’t turn that into a blessing,” you tease him, popping his belt open. Joel knows you well enough to not protest any more. He’s stiffening when you pull him out, and he releases the smallest sigh when you start to work him with your hand. The rain is still beating down on the roof, the windows, drowning out all other sound, but when you trace your tongue along the hardening length of Joel’s thick cock, there is no mistaking his sharp hiss of a quick inhale. You twirl your tongue around the salty wet head of his cock, your hand moving up and down to help him reach full hardness, and when he is rock hard, as hard as he can be, you take him in your mouth.

His fingers dig into the cracked leather of the chair’s armrests, and his head falls back. His legs press against your sides before he relaxes, knees falling open as you slowly, gently suck him. As he becomes more at ease, so do you: falling into almost a meditative state, you alternate between licking up and down his length, and taking him in your mouth. When your mouth dries out, you take him deep enough to almost gag, stimulating your glands to produce more saliva.

“Darlin’,” he groans when the taste of precum grows thick and strong. “’m close now, you want me to finish in your mouth?”

You take him as deep as you can, and hum. His hips very nearly jerk up at the sensation.

“Fuck… alright… fuck… baby…”

When he fills your throat with hot, creamy cum, you don’t pull away. Swallowing as much of it as you can, the rest dribbling down your chin, you blink away the tears and don’t release his cock until he’s hissing your name. Only then do you give him a moment, wiping your face on your sleeves.

He's breathing audibly, as are you, trying to catch your breath now that you have no obstructions. When he says your name, you stand up and pop open your belt.

“Stay hard for me, Joel,” you ask him as you pull down your pants and ratty underwear. “Legs open.”

“You gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He manages to sound extremely disapproving, even when it would be a way most men would want to go.

“I’m just here to make you feel good.”

You turn around and sit on his lap, reaching between your thighs to find him and guide him home. Sinking down on his length, your lower lip catches between your teeth. You’re not as wet as you could – should – be, and Joel is hard to take under the best of circumstances. But you need this, goddammit, need to unwind just as much as Joel.

You exhale slowly as he splits you open, one inch at a time, and when he’s completely sheathed in you, you have to take a moment to acknowledge that you did, in fact, take the entirety of his big, fat cock in one go.

His thighs are flexed, and nearly jolt when you start to move tentatively, finding the way you want and need to roll your hips on his. Finding it, you grab both armrests to brace yourself on, and keep on grinding.

The rusty springs of the seat sing to the booming rain, and your panting breaths soon join the choir. Joel’s hands are loose on your hips, and you can tell that he wants to grab and bounce you off his cock at a pace of his own choosing. Joel so often wants to stay in control, be the one to decide how things are going to be done. It’s good for him to relinquish that control from time to time.

The rain keeps drumming on the windows, it’s like looking into a dark aquarium. You keep your gaze fixed on one of them, like you expect to see something, but there is nothing but darkness and water. The roof roars, and you can hear water dripping somewhere, probably the fireplace. Water, wetness, the slapping of your ass cheeks against Joel’s hips, his grunts, your moans. It's almost impersonal and mechanic, the way you don’t speak but use him to orgasm, your head thrown back and your mouth open in a silent scream. And yet it’s nothing like that. Not everybody gets this close to Joel. Not everybody has access to your core. You’re just in a hurry because no pleasure lasts forever in this world. You’re used to it.

The leather creaks when Joel thrusts up into you, exhales in quick, heated huffs until he paints your walls. You allow yourself a soft whine before attempting to rise, but Joel pulls you down on your back, covering him. Your clothes are damp, as are his, both your bodies are boiling.

“Keep me warm,” he grumbles in your ear, his arms going around you as his mustache scratches at your neck. Despite your oversensitivity, you keep him inside you, flex your inner muscles to hug him tightly.

He sighs your name, overflowing each letter with gratitude. Your smirk, just as he takes hold of your chin to angle your face towards him. He senses your smile when he kisses you, and he smiles back.

“’s that a blessing enough for ya?” he mumbles. You lay your arms on top of his and press your lips against his again.

“It is, and I’m counting them.”

[lady-lostmind]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @emryses for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

12.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

240,148

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I've only written Stranger Things so far.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Steve Harrington. Are you kidding me? Temptation Heat, Beats Like a Drum. Happy Valentine's Day, Big Boy. This is the coin I had in my pocket the first time we kissed and I always have it. And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to at least reply with something so people know I saw their comment and appreciate it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a happy ending girlie, honestly. (I also have a lot of WIPs so they don't have an ending yet.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As far as actually finished fics goes, probably Steve Harrington Are you kidding me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten a few comments here and there that weren't the nicest or could have probably been left off. But mostly I've gotten good feedback.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I always convince myself it's not very good but it's fun to write! And I really just write whatever fits the story? I don't think I really have anything I particularly favor.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not. I don't usually read crossovers either.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, I haven't!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No I haven't but I am in awe of people who can do that. That seems so difficult to me.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I think Steddie is always going to be top dog for me, honestly. I've read fics for such a long time but Steddie is the first that got to me enough that I actually started creating things for it as well. And the brainrot is still going strong.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I honestly plan on finishing all my abandoned WIPs at this time!! I guess if I had to pick it would probably be Coin just because it's the one I've struggled the most with. But I'm hoping to come back to it still!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh man. That's a tough one. I think...character voice. I think I do a pretty good job of grasping a character and sticking as closely to what feels most like them at least, in my mind.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Honestly I think just my own confidence and need for external validation. I wish I could just write for myself and enjoy it regardless of how well something does. I also just really struggle with writing in longer bits. I tend to write in little snippets and pieces ad it takes so long to get anywhere that way.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't think I would ever try. I don't speak any other language and trying to master the nuance of speaking in one while relying on like...google translate just doesn't sound like it would go well.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stranger Things! Steddie was my first dive into writing fanfic at all.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I am so incredibly proud of And You May Find Yourself. I stepped outside my comfort zone a lot for this fic all the way from the themes to just actually reaching out and being more a part of the Steddie community. I've made some great friends through the process and have signed up to be a part of way more than I originally planned on when I decided to so the Steddie Big Bang. I still have two chapters to write for this one and although I'm really looking forward to it finally being done I'll absolutely miss the version of these characters I created for this go around. I hope people love them as much as I do.

zero pressure tags: @oh-stars, @karadanverss, @rindecision, @lihhelsing, @starryeyedjanai, @azrielgreen, @eddywoww, @lexirosewrites, @thefreakandthehair, @thorniest-rose

[sheyshocked]

What It Means to Be an Aussie

Summary: Mick Mundy, age eleven, is upset because kids at school laughed at him, telling him he’s no Aussie. When he comes to his mom for comfort, she has to face a dilemma: tell him he’s adopted or keep it a secret to protect him.

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Ship: None (familial Sniper & Sniper’s Parents)

Warnings: None

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bullying, Adoption, Child Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Canon Compliant, Sad Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Australian Slang, Parent-Child Relationship

Wordcount: 737

A/N: This was a spur-of-a-moment fic written in two days, so be gentle, please. Incorporating Australian slang into it was a challenge, but at least I learned something new (ankle biter will never not make me smile), so I can use it later in my main fic Baby It’s All Just Chemistry. Writing Sniper and his family is hard, but I loved every second of it.

You can also read it on ao3!

It was late evening and Mrs. Mundy just finished knitting the last row of Mick’s new sweater. She was about to go to bed. Her husband was away on a hunting trip with his friends, so it was only her and their son in the house. Then she heard it. That small, hesitant rustle lingering by the door, as if whoever caused it was contemplating whether he should enter the room or not. She lit the lamp by her bedside and sat up, squinting at the lanky shadow cowering at the threshold.

Mick. Her little koala bear. Well, not so little anymore. He was barely eleven years old and already so tall. Soon, he would overgrow even his own father. But he never filled out the way his classmates did. “You’re just a late-bloomer,” they kept telling him when he came back from school with tears swelling in his eyes. “Give it time. Your father hasn’t grown a proper mustache until he was nearly fourteen.”

But they knew they were lying through their teeth.

“Micky?” she rubbed her eyes. What time was it? “What’s goin’ on? Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head, the poor thing. Then he slowly ever so slowly entered the room and without uttering a single word slipped underneath the cowers, diving beside her like he used to do when he was still a small nipper. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him like a warm blanket. Jonathan never liked it when the boy came to them at night asking if he could sleep in their bed with them. “He’s too old for that now,” he always argued. “He should just man up and go back to sleep like a normal adult bloke.”

But Mrs. Mundy shushed him every time and lifted the sheets for Mick to crawl under. Not many parents could say that their tackers still came to them at this age when they were hurting. It was beautiful, in its own way.

If only he hurt a little less often.

“They were laughin’ at me again, mom,” he finally spoke up in a shaky voice as if he was about to cry. “Said I’m not Aussie enough if I never want to fist-fight with them.”

Ah. This again. Kids really can be cruel. Mick was special, all of them could see that, as it was getting more obvious with age, and they feared him the way they feared everything they couldn’t beat up into submission.

“What’s wrong with me, mom? Why am I not like the others?”

Now this truly shattered her heart into tiny pieces. Maybe they should finally tell him the truth. But what then? Would he wonder where he was from? Or ask about his real parents and why they didn’t love him enough to keep him? And what would the other kids do if they found out he wasn’t from the outback like they were?

No, it had to remain a secret. Why should any of this matter anyway? He was their son. Maybe not by blood, but they loved him the same. And nothing would ever change that.

She hugged him a bit tighter, letting him snuggle up closer to her. “Oh no, ‘roo. There is nothin’ wrong with you. It’s them who should learn what it truly means to be an Aussie. Because it’s not about havin’ muscle upon muscle and bushy mustaches. It’s about what you have in your heart. And you are good just the way you are.” She heard a small, pitiful sob being pressed into her clavicle. Poor thing. She cooed at him until he calmed down a little, then went to stroke his hair. “You know what? Maybe next time dad will take you on a trip with him. Would you like that? He could even teach you how to shoot a rifle if you promise you’ll be careful.”

Mick wiped away the tear that got stuck on his long eyelashes. “R-really? You mean it?”

“Of course I do. If you’re gonna be good at it the way you are at throwin’ rocks, you will soon become the best hunter around.”

Finally, he smiled. “Thanks, mom. Love ya.”

“I love you too, Micky. You’ll never know how much.”

One day, Mick will grow up into something great and leave all those mean no-hopers behind. But for now... she held him as they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Translations

Nipper – a child Bloke – a man Tackers - children No-hoper – somebody who’ll never perform well

[katebishopofearth]

warm my brittle heart (even if it's only for a moment)

Fandom: Marvel Ship: ironwidow Characters: Natasha Romanoff | Tony Stark Rating: G Other tags: fluff and light angst | domestic | established relationship

warm my brittle heart (even if it's only for a moment)

It was a clear evening in spring. Late enough in the season that the frost had long melted, the branches were clothed in budding shades of yellow and green, and light lingered in the sky long after the first stars could be seen. Early enough that the air was light and crisp, the breeze across the lake brought a shiver, and the flickering fire pit in the backyard was needed for warmth as much as ambiance. Natasha snuggled deeper into her nest of cushions, rolling her shoulders back until she felt a satisfying pop in the left one. In a while – maybe fifteen minutes, maybe an hour – her bad knee would start to twinge from the cold and being bent in one position for too long, but she had long since learned that it would take far more than a stubborn little ache to stop her from enjoying a peaceful evening.

It had been a few months since they moved into the house by the lake, leaving behind the superhero life for this quiet domesticity. Any doubts she had before – and there were a number of them, as Tony well knew, as well as a handful that were between her and her therapist – had proven futile. No old enemies came knocking, neither she or Tony were sick of each other or bored out of their minds, and Tony assuaged her doubts with his steady, calloused hands as soon as they appeared.

There was no magic button that could fix everything, disappear the wounds that their pasts have left on them, banish her gnawing fear that the little life they built would come crashing down like a house made of matches. There were still nights when Tony woke with a panic attack, or days when the dread inside Natasha threatened to choke her. But those days got fewer and farther apart. And in between them, more and more good days, filled with soft sunlight or pattering rain, coffee in bed and home-cooked dinners with a bottle of wine, quiet lakeside walks or impromptu midnight dance parties in the kitchen. One evening, as Natasha was getting ready for bed, she caught herself believing – not just knowing but believing, down in her gut—that tomorrow, she would get to go to bed, safe and warm next to the man she loved. She had laughed out loud at the revelation, and tucked it into the spaces between her ribs, next to her beating heart, to take out and treasure on the rainy days.

But today was not one of those days. It was a good day, and it was turning into a good evening. After dinner, while Natasha settled in the nest of beanbags and pillows and throws on the patio, Tony had built a little structure in the fire pit with firewood and tinder, and worked some kind of physics and engineering magic that had the fire crackling merrily in a few minutes.

Right now, Tony was coming out of the house into the garden, two oversized mugs in his his hands full to the brim with hot chocolate and whipped cream. “Hey babe,” he called as he padded across the patio and picked his way across the overgrown grass and budding wildflowers. “I hope you like your chocolate extra boozy cause there was like slightly too little whisky left in the bottle for another round, so I used up all of it.”

She turned her head up to look at him, lips lifting in an appreciative smile. “Sounds perfect.” As she took the mug from him, his fingers glided along the raised scar on her wrist and cupped her hand briefly before slipping off. She wrapped her cold fingers around the ceramic and let its warmth seep through her skin, before she took a sip of the boozy, milky drink, and let out a satisfied mmm.

“Oof, this is cozy,” Tony groaned, sinking into the cushions next to her. “Budge over.” Natasha shifted slightly, and they shuffled around for a minute, rearranging themselves on the pillows to sit comfortably, mindful of the precariously full mugs in their hands. Finally, they settled down with their legs tangled together, Tony’s arm around Natasha’s shoulders, tucking her into his chest, and Natasha reaching up to her shoulder to lace their fingers together. It was often Tony who sought to be held and feel safe, while Natasha was more comfortable holding the person she loved protectively. But she was unlearning the instinct that being taken care of was a weakness, and learning to let herself be held, too. Besides, today Tony seemed to be fuelled by some kind of manic energy that manifested in a need to take care of her. Like how he insisted on making the hot chocolates, and before that, stopped her from lifting a finger to start the fire. But now, snuggled up in their nest of pillows, that restlessness was finally exorcised, and Natasha could feel the contentment in his body as clearly as his warmth.

[continue reading on AO3]