#like i get at least three separate comments that ask this on every anon work

[nanabanonana]

“is there anything else you've written? i would love to read more of your works!”

me on anon: uhhh, no

[peachesofteal]

OHHHH I SEE WE ALL HAVE OMEGAVERSE FRENZY IN THIS HOUSE

What if Darling DID INDEED take suppressants for almost all her life after she presented as omega

BUT but but the reason she was off them was because a doctor told her she was in risk of losing all her ability to produce pheromones.

“Losing your capability of producing pheromones can come with a number of issues,” she tells you. “For starters, your heat cycles would be reduced to at least half of their frequency. There is also a decrease of libido, as well as a decrease in fertility. It is also not uncommon for omegas to experience separation or breakup with their partners, especially if they're alphas, but not to be–”. However, you stopped listening after separation.

You thought about that comment your co-worker made in passing about being dumped by his two alpha partners after he couldn't carry pups due to hormonal problems. He was promptly thrown out into the streets. Abandoned. Tossed away like a broken glass; no purpose and no means for existing, nor to fix it.

Surely, they wouldn't leave you for something like that, could they? But then the back of your mind whispered with its little secrets and ideas. Sure, your secondary gender wasn't all that glued you to them, but it had something to do, at least, right? A happy, little omega waiting for them at home.

“There are, however, solutions and treatments that we could possibly try.”

That snaps you out of your own thoughts.

“When was your last heat?”

You could vividly remember it. Your then partner asking you once more to sleep separately from them, because your heats not only bothered them, but also disgusted them.

“More than five years ago.”

Your doctor then stayed quiet for a few moments, the gears in her mind working.

“There is a possibility of this change in your glands to revert back to what it was, but you might have to forget about suppressants for a year at least.”

And Darling says yes, whatever it takes.

And this is how Darling had to stop taking suppressants for a year and deal with a heat every two months, and while that did indeed helped to start reverting the alteration in her glands, it also left her to deal with her own heats alone.

She never asked for help because she always knew when Simon and Johnny had their ruts, usually staying a couple days on base even though the op was over. Because she didn't want to think wrongly of them (would they be disgusted with her heat cycles just like it happened, out of the blue, in her three past relationships?), but also she really didn't want to be a bother to them. There was a reason why they stayed on base while they went through their ruts and decided not to come home to her. So she got through her heats and welcomed them both home with cuddles and stories about her job.

(Not knowing that the reason they didn't come to her while rutting, was because they didn't want to overwhelm her, and their shared ruts could get pretty rough in bed, very different from what they wanted to happen when fantasizing about you letting them take care of your heats)

And imagine once Johnny and Simon find out about this, when you tell them in the middle of a fever induced ramble, in tears.

About how Darling not only doesn't trust them to deal with her heats but is also afraid of them being disgusted with her, afraid of them abandoning her once she (in her mind) became useless to them 👁️👁️ both hurt and betrayed by this, but torn because they desperately want Darling to at least let them bring her snacks and clothes.

(But also I love the angst. It makes the thought of Johnny and Simon eventually helping Darling through her heats more satisfactory LMAO The thought of Soap and Ghost banging Darling until they kick out the insecurity out of her is tempting)

— 🫔 Anon, with love to you Peach and everyone else that's feral for omegaverse right now, just like me 🥰 fr I wish the best for you all A/B/O enthusiasts and especially for you Peach, for creating not only excellent work but also a safe space to talk about unhinged AUs<3

TAMALE 🫔 ANON 🫔 I love you and your beautiful brain. Never leave me. Stay here in our safe little au bubble forever.

And this anon! Lots of love 🩵 your brainchild really got to me

18+ MDNI / Dead Disco omegaverse au / Mature themes / I still have no idea what we're doing with these but let's go with it

At first, you think it’s a fever.

Your head is cloudy, like you’re in some sort of sick fog. You try over and over to focus on your work, but after you make the same mistake on paperwork, three times in a row.

But when your stomach starts to cramp, sweat slicking along your lower back, you know it’s not just a fever.

You know it’s something else.

You fire off an email to your boss referencing your heat leave before you lock your office for the week, week and a half you’ll be gone.

You’re not particularly ready for this one. You haven’t gone to the grocery store. You haven’t washed your linens, haven’t collected the usual pile of hoodies and shirts for nesting.

Not to mention, the timing. The guys have already been gone for two weeks. They could come home in the middle of it, could discover your lie, all your lies. About the suppressants. About your feelings. About the truth.

“You have to come off the suppressants.” You blink, trying to register her words.

“N-no. I… I can’t.” She doesn’t understand. You can’t go off your suppressants. The guys… they share each other’s ruts, they don’t need a heat cycle on top of it.

She says your name with sigh, before glancing at you over her glasses, lips twisted.

“Are you in safe place now? A safe home? With a pack?”

“Yes but they’re not my mates, obviously.” You’ve always been insistent that you don’t need the bite to be with the guys, that you don’t need a heat to be in a relationship with them. That you’re enough, the way you are. After what happened to you in your young life, you had vowed to stay on suppressants for the rest of your life. And even though they didn’t know the truth of everything, they supported you.

And they’ve always agreed. They’ve never pushed you, about the suppressants. Never tried to bully you or convince you otherwise. They’ve always told you they love you, no matter what.

But will they feel the same now? If you change? If you turn into some heat driven Omega?

They already have each other to satisfy themselves. Would they even know what to do with a heat? Would they even want to?

“You’re in a safe place. Your life has changed so much, don’t you think it’s time you give yourself a chance?” She doesn’t get it. They won’t want this. Won’t want you.

“I can’t, I-“

“It’s your decision to make, but I want you to be fully aware of the risks. The suppressants are impacting your ability to produce pheromones. If it continues, your fertility will also be negatively affected.” Your stomach sinks like a stone. Fertility. The one thing you and Johnny and Simon whisper about in the dark sometimes, a baby, or two, a family. “Do you understand?” She’s kind, sympathetic but firm, and you nod.

“Yes.”

You’ve known there’s something amiss with you, and your cycle. That there’s something wrong with your heats. You spend most of them in the closet, or under the bed, fighting flashbacks of your past and trying bring yourself relief to no avail. When you come out of them, you’re often confused. Disorientated. Missing entire days. It’s almost like you’re not even really there, and sometimes you catch yourself rubbing your gland with your wrist, trying to mimic a scenting by an Alpha. One of your Alphas.

Google tells you that it’s common for traumatized Omegas to react this way. That Omegas who have been abandoned or lost their mates, often try to self soothe during their cycles. Omegas who have been abused.

You usually stop doom scrolling once you get to articles about failed bonds and bites, opting to to bury your face in one of the pillows, trying not to scream out your frustration. Trying to to get lost in your own panic, the fog that’s settling further and further into your mind, making it harder for you discern fact from fiction.

Eventually, you can’t fight it anymore. Your instincts take over, pushing into a space that feels too warm, too close, while your body rages, stomach twisting up in awful cramps. You burrow yourself in the closet, piling your blankets and pillows and articles of clothing until it feels almost right.

It does nothing to drown out the thoughts in your head. Your hindbrain is in control now. It’s taken over, buried common sense for instinct.

It’s not right. Your mates aren’t here. They left you. Your Alphas don’t want you.

You have no mates. No one to breed you. No one to give you what you need.

You’re alone. You’re not safe.

It’s going to happen again.

“Omega?” There’s a voice, calling to you. Two scents that are familiar, woodsmoke and gunpowder, juniper and ocean spray. “Hey, there ye are.”

A hand reaches towards you, and you press yourself against the wall. Don’t touch. Don’t let them touch.

“Darling,” that name. You know that name. “it’s okay. It’s us, you’re alright.”

[andreas-river]

Bullied!Reader gained the Courage to come to The 141 boys + König knowing they are all a scary bunch and of Commanding rank to hopefully stop the bullying they were experiencing for a bit. They feel guilty for being a Solider who couldn’t handle it by themselves, but they beg for their help despite it.

“ I didn’t want it to come to this…I swear…I just don’t know what else to do…”

TW: bullying, mention of misoginy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, fem!reader.

A/N: hello Anon, thanks for your request, sorry it took so long. I decided to write it without separating the characters, I think it makes the idea better like this!

Disclaimer: Too many people are bullied, and sadly it happens too often, and I have fallen into this deep hole myself. It can be both physical and psychological, and it is an devius but unforgiving form of violence. I hope this can give comfort to those who need it: asking for help IS NOT a form of weakness, sometimes even talking about it with a trusted person can make a difference.

════════════════════════════

Asking for help is one of the hardest things in the world. Admitting that we cannot do it on our own with our own strength is like a display of vulnerability that not everyone allows themselves to do: there are to many sharks around, and they are all out for blood.

But every day it was getting harder and harder, and it was almost embarrassing knowing the context in which you had been living for many years. Numerous missions made you used to the horrors of a military life, and the sight of blood had not affected you for a long time. You don't remember exactly how or when it started, but the stares of the men around you became more and more insistent, not giving you any peace, voices murmuring in the hallways as you passed by when you might have just been on your way to the gym or Price's office to fill out the various papers and get them in order.

Fortunately, you shared the office with Soap and Ghost, and more recently, König, who had been temporarily reassigned to 1-4-1 for future missions. All three were certainly much better company than the other soldiers, between the various chats with Soap, Ghost's jokes – so awful they were actually funny – and König's charisma, it actually made the day better, at least for the hours spent at the desk.

The nightmare continued during the rest of the days, and with it grew the guilt within you: you never responded to all those comments that reached your ears – being a woman in the Task Force apparently was impossible, to the point of comments that made your skin crawl with disgust, nauseated at the very thought. You knew that you had worked hard to get where you were today, and that you had earned the rank of Sergeant on your own, with your own strength, always willing to give your all, even while doing chores around the base.

With a sigh, you had forced yourself to walk to your room, which was on the opposite side of the offices, knowing that you would pass anyone who would murmur about you, after all, it was just after dinner and the corridors were much more crowded than usual.

As expected, the stares didn't take long to arrive, and a few murmurs began to reach your ears. Quickening your pace, you found yourself panting in front of the door to your room – literally running away from all those people, feeling like you had no choice. The thought brought tears to your eyes, but you had no other choice.

-

Since you woke up, every movement around you put you on edge, the day started like any other, but the knowledge of admitting something like this made you nervous. You were sure they would understand, as they often asked if you were okay, checking up on you as a family. A strange one, but one of the best.

As you walked into your office like any other day, you found Ghost and Soap talking, both greeting you as you entered the room. You waited silently for them to finish their conversation, distractedly listening to the fact that they wanted to change some exercises about the training, sneaking closer to them, still wondering if it was the right choice – you were literally the same rank as Soap – and you handled worse situations better than this one, where your life or others were at stake.

You were so deep in your own thoughts that it took you some time to realize that both men were trying to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality when the door to the office burst open, revealing the tall and looming figure of König.

Soap placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently with a warm smile on his face, "Hey – are you okay?"

You took a deep breath and felt König's presence at your side. You had a knot in your throat and you hoped not to stutter too much with your voice. "Yeah, I mean - kinda." The three men frowned, a bit confused by your behaviour in front of them. "I... don't know what else to do. I swear, I..."

The knot threatened to break at any moment, and you weren't so sure you wouldn't cry in front of your squadmates. "Every time I leave this office to just go somewhere, everyone starts talking–" you swallowed the luno in your throat again, feeling on the verge of tears. "They murmur about me, even disgusting things, and I know they aren't the truth, but now it happens every single day, every single moment I spend outside my room or this office–"

"Hey, hey, slow down..." Soap blocked you and made you sit down, Ghost still watching intently as König handed you a tissue, blinking and noticing that you were really crying. "Since when?"

Blowing your nose, you managed to mumble "a few weeks", letting the room fall silent after your words, except for your own stiffles, until Ghost resumed the conversation. "For today, you'll stay here and help Soap. König, you are with me today."

They all looked into each other's eyes in silent agreement, leaving you alone with the Scottish man. "They'll take care of everything, okay?" he hugged you gently, and you finally felt the weight off your shoulders, enough to allow you to breathe a little more.

-

Walking down the hall to breakfast felt strange, there was so much silence and fewer people, it felt so different when you spotted the others sitting at a table, you walked towards them with your coffee and found a place between Gaz and Ghost, with the others around.

"Sleep well?" Ghost murmured, leaning in your direction. For a moment you couldn't answer – there was so much silence that the atmosphere felt unreal. "Yeah, but... what happened?"

Price smiled as Ghost answered you. "There were... training changes."

You stared back at him, absorbing his words. You've never experienced anything like this in your life, and everyone helped you so quickly that you didn't even realize it was happening. You thanked him, a warm smile on your face as you came back to sip your coffee, finally relieved as you realized this was the best decision you could have made.

[badlucksav]

You’ll probably ignore this one too but can you at least do a chapter where Zuko and Katara have some good smut? You left it on such a cliffhanger :(

Hi, Anon.

I’ve chosen not to ignore this one because I have something very important to say.

This is not a nice thing to say to a writer.

I’ve been writing for fandom for coming up on three years, and I’ve gotten plenty of comments and asks in that time, many of them rude or demanding. What I’ve learned is that those types of comments actually do the opposite of what the speaker intends: it makes me not want to write, either that fic in particular or not at all.

Two weeks. Only two weeks between an update! Omg! I know I can put out a lot of content, but my god, don’t we all have creative blocks? Or IRL responsibilities and deadlines?

“Are we not going to get any new chapters even this year?” This one might take the cake. I got this on January 11, a whole eleven days into the new year. And on my birthday, to boot.

I generally ignore those comments. I find it’s better for my mental health that way. I delete them, and think about how now I don’t want to work on that fic, or worse, how I feel contrition because I haven’t updated, and maybe that anon has a point, and maybe it’s rude of me to leave people hanging…

But here’s the fucking thing. I have poured almost 1.8 million words onto Ao3 since I started writing fic, and I’ve not been paid for a single goddamn one of them. I have written every single word, every single one of my fics for free (and there’s 188 of them, many of which are Zutara smut, so feel free to check them out if you’re so inclined). This is a hobby. I do it because it brings me joy; it’s a break from the stress and responsibility of my offline life — which has not been a cake walk, particularly in the last year, and I know that no one knows it because I keep these lives separate, but my god, do you people think I just sit at the computer all day writing stories? Do I not have a real life to you? Am I not a real person to you?

Anyway. Fanfic writing is a hobby. It brings me joy — or it usually does. Comments like these do not bring me joy. They make me sad, angry, upset. They kill motivation to work on these stories. Sometimes they make me want to delete all my unfinished WIPs. Sometimes they make me think that it would be better if I just left fandom altogether.

This is how you leave a comment. This is how you let a writer know that you’re interested in an update. This comment put a smile on my face for the first time on a Zutara fic this year. Because everything else has basically been like the ones above.

“You’ll probably ignore this one too.” Let’s break this one down a bit, shall we? This is manipulative language. You are attempting to guilt me into responding to you. This is not ok to do to anyone. If I haven’t answered an ask, it’s likely because I’m busy or I just haven’t had the mental spoons to do it. Or I don’t have an answer.

I am not an object for your content demands.

I am not an object for your content demands.

I am not an object for your content demands.

I’m also not Marvel Studios with an entire team of writers. I’m just one person. I write what I write for me above anything else. The moment I forgot that was the moment I nearly left this fandom. I’m not going to let that happen again. If I leave, it’s going to be my choice on my time. Not because another person made me feel so bad that they pushed me out.

I’m turning my anons off. If people have something to say to me, they can do it with their blog names attached instead of hiding behind anonymity.

[the-bau-quinjet]

what about doing a steve x reader? maybe where the reader gets hurt during a mission by hydra?? just an idea!! xx

He’s Like a Brother to Me

Summary: Pretending to be a couple for a mission is normal, so why is your Captain so upset?

Warnings: being injured on a mission, kissing, a swear word or two

Word Count: 2202

a/n: My first request!! To the anon that requested this, thank you! I hope you like it :) Sorry if it's not angsty enough! I really tried, but once I got this idea in my head I ran with it. 

Also! I didn't do my normal tag list since y'all requested to be tagged when I was only writing Criminal Minds fics. Just lmk if you want to be tagged in marvel or CM or both!

"The mission is simple. You two will go to the gala as newly weds, pretend to be interested in more than the charitable events of the evening, figure out the chain of command for the weapons dealing, and put a stop to the weapons dealing assholes." Tony laid out the plan as if nothing could go wrong.

You turned to the super soldier on your left, relieved to find a matching grimace on his face.

"We have to pretend to be a couple?" You asked, turning back to Tony.

"Yes. The invites we secured are for Mr. and Mrs. Farley, so you two will be Mr. and Mrs. Farley for the evening. Any other questions?" Before you could chime in with the 17 questions in your head, Tony kept talking. "I didn't think so. Your clothes have already been dropped off to your rooms, so get ready. You'll have Rogers and Wilson doing surveillance in case anything goes wrong." Without another word, Tony forced you and Bucky out of the room.

"I guess I'll see in an hour, husband." You tried to joke, but your smile didn't meet your eyes.

"Same to you, wife." Bucky's face held a similar expression as you both turned your separate ways to get ready for the gala, trying to put the awkwardness behind you.

You and Bucky have been incredibly close ever since he first came back from Wakanda. You became fast friends since you are both so close with Steve.

It was easier for Bucky to open up to you than he anticipated, and in part it's because you remind him of his sister. Similarly, Bucky is like the older brother you never had. The two of you mesh, in the most platonic of ways.

He is there to tease you about your not-so-secret crush on Steve, and your there to help Sam come up with more annoying nicknames (starBucks being one of your favorite to date).

When it comes down to it though, you look out for each other. Of course, that won't make pretending to be a couple any less awkward.

-

You and Bucky enter the gala just after 8:00 pm. The large hotel ballroom is lit up by three enormous chandeliers, spaced throughout the room, with small sconces lining the outside walls. There are round tables around the outside of the room, framing a large open space for dancing.

People are mingling in small groups scattered throughout the room, waitstaff wondering around the room in precise lines to ensure anyone who wants a drink has access to one.

With a deep breath, you link your arm with Bucky's, laughing at the surprised look on his face.

"We have to at least try to sell it." You whispered in his ear, trying to play it off as a cute couple-y thing. "Even if we'd both rather be anywhere else." That comment earned a laugh, easing the tension from his shoulders.

Steve's voice in your ears refocuses you on the mission. "We just got video feed from the security cameras, so we have eyes on you now." You would have sworn you could hear an unfamiliar strain in Steve's voice as he spoke, but you chalked it up to just being nervous for the mission. "Try to mingle, figure out who's in charge."

Mingling was easier said than done. Every time the two of you tried to talk to anyone, the conversation was awkward and tense. You just didn't know how to answer questions about falling in love with each other. Ultimately, you decided eavesdropping was your best bet. Bucky pulled you to the dance floor, whispering in your ear as he held you, "dancing is the perfect cover for moving around the room."

You nodded your head in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What are you doing? I said to mingle, not dance." Steve's voice in your ears surprised you. Normally, he'd stay quiet unless he received intel that could help with the mission or noticed something for you to look into.

"We're listening to other conversations, relax punk." Bucky's voice was light as he spun you around, closer to the most suspicious people you've found thus far.  

"What time is it happening?" The woman seemed nervous as she checked her watch.

"A few minutes. Relax, we'll meet them down the hall at 8:45." The man was calm and collected as he took her hand, leading her across the dance floor and out of the room.

"Guess that's our cue." You stated the obvious as you and Bucky went to follow them out of the ballroom. The couple turned down a side hallway, pulled out a key card, and entered a room, about halfway down.

You and Bucky made quick work to reach the room, pausing outside to listen in. You heard the couple, along with an unfamiliar voice.

"Do you have them?" The unfamiliar voice asked.

"We do. They're hidden in another room down the hall." the woman again sounded nervous.

"You" the unfamiliar voice must have pointed at someone, "go get them. Your wife will stay here to keep me company. Make it quick, Hydra has more important things to do."

Yours and Bucky's eyes went wide at the mention of Hydra. This mission wasn't supposed to have anything to do with them. Before you could react, footsteps could be heard coming toward the door. You had a few seconds max to figure out a way to hide.

With no other options in sight, you pulled Bucky across the hallway into the world's most awkward kiss. When the door swung open, you pretended not to notice, too lost in your "relationship" to care.

The man you saw earlier walked a few doors down before entering another room. You pulled back from Bucky, wincing slightly at the expression on his face. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't think of anything else to do to make it look like we weren't listening..." You trailed off.

"No, no it's fine. It was the only option." Bucky cleared his throat, still slightly dazed and very thrown off.

"Could the two of you stop staring at each other and get back to work?' Steve's voice was again present in your ears, and this time he was definitely angry.

"Right! Right, of course. Let's go." You awkwardly pushed off the wall, moving down the hallway to the room you saw the man enter. On the count of three, you burst into the room together. It was easy enough to over power the lone man in the room, but you and Bucky were still a little shaken up after the kiss. You handcuffed him to the bedpost, taking the key card he used earlier and moving back down the hallway.

After a brief, awkward eye contact, Bucky opened the door with you rushing in behind him. The only two people in the room were the two you heard earlier, making for a fairly easy take down.

"Cap, we got 'em. Two in room 217 and one in room 223." You started to fill him and Sam in, unsure if they still had eyes on you. At that exact moment, three more Hydra agents ran in from an adjoining room, catching you off guard.

You yelped when the gun went off, surprised at the sudden noise after thinking the mission was over. You and Bucky managed to take down the three agents without much more difficulty.

"Scratch that Cap, five in room 217." You again began filling him in, but the room started spinning. Your voice was wavering when you collapsed, the last thing you heard a mixture of Steve's voice in your ear and Bucky's in person calling your name.

"Y/N!" Then everything faded to black.

-

"What the hell happened in there?" Steve and Bucky were standing just outside of the med bay. After you collapsed, Bucky realized you had been shot in the stomach. While other Shield agents came to collect the men you had stopped, Bucky carried you to the quinjet, meeting a pissed looking Steve at the door.

The two didn't talk at all during the short flight back to the compound. It wasn't until you were in the med bay receiving medical attention that Steve rounded on Bucky.

"There was never any indication that more agents were there. They caught us off guard! I didn't even realize she had been shot until after we had them contained." Bucky was beating himself up. He let his guard down, still trying to get over the lingering weirdness of you kissing him.

"Caught you off guard? Buck-" Before Steve could yell anymore, Dr. Cho came out to talk to them.

"Y/N will be fine. She lost a lot of blood, but she should recover relatively quickly. She'll likely wake up in the next half hour." Dr. Cho got straight to the point, trying to ease the nerves of the two super soldiers.

"Thank you so much. Thank you!" Bucky called over his shoulder as he ran into the room, planting himself by your side. He may be weirded out by the kiss, but he knows you were too. You're still like a little sister to him, nothing could stop him from being there for you when you wake up.

Steve followed Bucky into the room after thanking Dr. Cho and briefly discussing the timeline for your recovery.

"As I was saying. Caught you off guard? I've never seen you caught off guard before." Although he was whispering so as not to disturb you, his words were nearly venomous. "The two of you let your feelings get in the way of this mission."

The look of guilt already present on Bucky's face multiplied tenfold. "You think I don't know that? I should've seen it coming. If I wasn't distracted I could've stopped them before Y/N got hurt."

You woke up at some point, hearing Bucky blame himself. Instantly, you wanted to ease his worries. "Hey," the two men turned to you, concern clear on their faces. "It wasn't your fault, Buck. I was just as distracted. Neither of us saw it coming, even though both of us should have. It doesn't matter though, because we got them, and I'll be fine." You sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in your abdomen.

"How can you say that? Of course it matters! You could have died, all because Bucky was too busy making heart eyes at you to-" Steve's words were cut off by identical sounds of laughter from you and Bucky.

"Heart eyes?! Oh my god, that's hilarious." You stuttered out the words between laughs. Steve look so confused, you couldn't help but laugh at his cute expression.

Every time you thought you were done, one look at either Bucky or Steve had you laughing again. "Oh god, make it stop! It hurts to laugh!" You pouted slightly, begging Bucky to stop laughing and Steve to change his expression.

Finally, Bucky reined it in enough to speak. "I was distracted because Y/N like a little sister. It's definitely a bit distracting to feel like you just kissed your sister" You and Bucky each made a face of disgust as you looked at each other.

Meanwhile, Steve had a look of complete shock on his face. "Wh-what? You two aren't ... ya know?”

Again, you and Bucky share looks of disgust. "God, no. He's like a brother to me."

"Yeah, I love Y/N like a sister. I'm definitely not in love with her." Bucky agrees.

Steve's expression is sheepish as he tries to explain himself, "but, but after the kiss you were staring into his eyes like you were in love!"

"We most definitely were not." Mumbling under your breath, you kept talking "his aren't the blue eyes I'd like to lovingly stare into."

Steve was shocked into silence by your statement.

"I think that's my cue to leave." Bucky wore a smug grin as he slapped Steve on the back, uttering a quick "good luck, punk" before leaving.

It was quiet for a minute, neither of you quite sure what to say.

"Who's blue eyes do you want to stare into?" Steve broke the silence, shuffling closer to sit on the side of your bed.

"What?" It took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you said that sentence out loud. "I said that out loud?" You threw your hands up to cover your face, mumbling about being an idiot to delay having to answer.

"You did. So... who's blue eyes?" Steve's demeanor quickly shifted from shy to confident. He slowly moved your hands off your face, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes. One look had you confessing all your secrets.

"Yours. It always been yours." He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, leaning in closer to you until your foreheads were touching.

"Let me take you on a date." His words were barely a whisper, the warm air from his breath sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded in response, not trusting your voice.

He leaned in closer, barely brushing his lips over yours. "I need words, sweetheart."

You pushed forward, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss.

"Yes."

[sunkisseddaffodils]

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

-

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

-

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

-

[itsclydebitches]

so ironwood was confirmed to be dead by Miles in a $42 cameo session, where the person who bought it had asked for "comforting words to soothe our anguished souls" bc she was an ironwood fan and wanted a pick-me-up after that devastating finale. miles' response was to essentially mock his fans (it really sounded like that, especially since he ended with "thank you jimmy, may you rest in pieces, crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold up above your head."

apparently the VA, jason rose, confirmed it in DMs w the same fan who sent in the cameo ask. so like, quite apart from how rude and disrespectful it was of miles to make a mockery of james in a cameo where he'd been specifically asked for comforting words regarding the character, ngl but i think that if you have to confirm a MAJOR CHARACTER is dead outside of canon bc you failed to actually show it on screen.....you've failed as a writer. and also that kind of thing shouldn't be confirmed in an expensive and exclusive interview lmao like how hard would it have been to just talk about good aspects to james' character instead of calling him a dickbag and saying 'don't do a genocide, guys!!'

it reeks of unprofessionalism and also it just makes everything surrounding ironwood's character arc even worse since apparently 'his fate was sealed' from the moment he was introduced to the show.

Me, who received the first Moderna shot yesterday (🎉 🎉 🎉 ): Ugh I feel too crappy to answer asks today

Me, upon hearing this news: You know, I have suddenly found an untapped source of energy

Okay, all joking aside, I watched the vid and it’s definitely a lot. I don’t have any information about the request itself except for what Miles mentions in the recording, so I can’t speak to what the fan may have been looking for outside of that, but some highlights include: 

“This is for the filth in my degenerate discord server” - Yeah, that’s how a lot of us (fans) talk about ourselves. It sounds like someone who really enjoys Ironwood and makes joking, self-deprecating comments about their love of a character. That’s familiar to me and speaks to the expectation that they hoped for something other than what they got. At least, if I’d sent in a request like that I wouldn’t be happy with the vid, but that’s obviously my own perspective and not this fan’s. I’d be very curious to know their own thoughts though... 

“Sometimes a character we like doesn’t make it, does something we don’t agree with... or both!” - That is indeed how characters work! The real question is whether their death/actions make sense within the story, which is not addressed here. Many fans who enjoyed Ironwood don’t have a problem with him dying or turning into a villain  — I’ve been honest about my acceptance of either/both, regardless of personal preference, provided it was written well  — and that was always the issue. Not what happened to Ironwood, but how it happened. 

“James Ironwood’s fate was sealed the moment his character was conceived many years ago.” - Personally, I don’t believe this. RT makes a lot of grand, sweeping statements about what’s been planned “for years” or “since the beginning” and too often we’re faced with writing that directly contradicts that. Though it’s unlikely we’ll ever know the truth, neither option paints the writing team in a good light. Either they’re straight up lying about what’s been planned (or twisting tossed out possibilities into assurances after the fact. For example, someone once suggested Ironwood might become a villain somehow at some point and now that’s presented as, ‘We’ve deliberately been working towards this specific ending for years’), or they’re being truthful and just... can’t write what they want to write. It doesn’t sound good when a writer says, ‘I’ve planned this the whole time’ and a good chunk of the fandom responds, ‘Then why couldn’t we see that planning this whole time?’ 

“When James was introduced we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag, but then we realized that dickbag had a heart and was also half metal, and that was pretty cool!” - I don’t even know what to make of this. I’ve deconstructed his introduction before, but to summarize here, he’s presented as no more of a “dickbag” than Ozpin who may not be doing enough to protect the people, Winter who allowed herself to get taunted into a fight on campus, or Qrow who deliberately started that fight while drunk. Glynda is the only one who is arguably innocent here. The implication seems to be that obviously Ironwood became a villain because “we intentionally made him look like kind of a big dickbag” but then... does that mean Qrow will become a villain too someday?? 

The comments about them realizing he had a heart and was half metal just speak to that lack of planning. No, you obviously didn’t plan this downfall from the start if you “realized” something as basic as him caring for others partway through writing him and then allowed that care to drive his character for so long that the decent into villainy read as OOC, rather than inevitable. You obviously weren’t writing him with a backstory that influenced his character  — of which his semblance is a major part  — if you “realized” he was half-metal... whenever that happened. The fact that we never saw that backstory, or the semblance on screen, or returned to his half-metal nature outside of a ‘That’s coding for evilness’ theme again speaks to the fact that either a) none of this was actually planned or b) the execution is seriously lacking here. 

“Let us all take a moment to thank General James Ironwood for his service to the Kingdom of Atlas, but... at the end of the day, don’t do a genocide [laughs]” - I’m having trouble articulating why I dislike this. I’m really too tired to be unpacking this right now (lol), but it has something to do with  — as you say, anon  — that mocking tone. Something else to do with the surge of purity culture in recent years. The tone feels like it’s tied up in an unsaid, ‘You like the character who tried to commit genocide?’ accusation when, you know, he’s a fictional character. People can like characters who do bad things. More significantly, he’s a fictional character Miles wrote. There’s something particularly distasteful about writers who feel like they’re laughing at fans for liking something when they created the thing with the intent that we would like it. And many did. So they gave attention, time, money, passion, etc. to the work and then when that part of the work finished, the creator appears to make light of that investment? Idk, I’m speaking about more than just this one line  — the tone of the vid as a whole, really — but it feels much less like “You enjoy Ironwood! 😄” and more “You enjoy Ironwood...  😬” Like yeah, fans enjoyed the character that you wanted them to enjoy who you wrote to have a heart and then suddenly commit genocide instead. There’s definitely nothing complicated in all that. 

“Thank you, Jimmy. May you rest in pieces crushed beneath the weight of the kingdom you tried so hard to hold above your head. Amen.” - All of the above x2 with the added issue that this was never shown on screen. Miles presents Ironwood’s arc like this seven year long plan when in fact they couldn’t even manage the basic move of telling the audience what happened to the character in his final hour. The fact that a fan had to pay to find out whether Ironwood is dead is not a gold star for the writing. 

Every time the RWBY crew speaks about the story in supplementary material the canon itself gets worse. Hyping Clover/Qrow on social media pushes the canon closer to queerbaiting. We’re way closer to that with them hyping Blake/Yang. Long ago comments about Ozpin’s cane suddenly make Volume 8 a retcon. A Q&A about Ironwood’s semblance makes his arc a thousand times more confusing about how we’re supposed to read his character  — to name just a few. Now this. When a friend first told me this info had dropped I thought, “Thank god. He’s not coming back then. I don’t want them writing Ironwood’s character anymore,” but really... can we believe anything the crew says? “Crushed beneath the weight of his kingdom” doesn’t mean Ironwood won’t show up in Volume 9 if it’s a spirit world type adventure. It doesn’t mean he won’t show up three years from now with even more metal in his body and a, “We said he was crushed, not that he was dead ;)” explanation. Hell, it doesn’t even mean he won’t show up with no explanation at all because, as established, what’s said in supplementary works and what happens on screen are two entirely separate things. Iffy as the vid may come across to those who did like Ironwood, I was initially happy that it at least gave us some closure... but now I’m not even sure about that. 

[illfoandillfie]

Out of Context

Request: First of all, congratulations on 1,000!!!! Could you do a a sequel to Interloper where maybe an interviewer is giving her shit for having once been a groupie and Bri Rog and Deaky defend her and have amazing sex after at like their hotel 😂-foursome anon (I’m back)

Interloper / Snapshots From Before (Prequel)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), gangbang/foursome, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, tit fucking, light choking, slightly dom reader, cheer up sex, some spanking, double and triple penetration

Words: 6,145

A/N: This was another request from back at my 1000 follower celebration last year. It’s been sitting half written in my drafts since then and I finally felt inspired to finish it lmao. Foursome anon I hope you’re still around and you see this!!

Blurb Advent: Day 10

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​​​ @deakyclicks​​​ @jennyggggrrr​​​ @drowseoftaylor​​​ @hannafuckingsucks​​​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​​​ @queenmylovely​​​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​​​ @borhapbois​​​ @stardust-galaxies​

Doing press wasn’t easy, especially when interviewers insisted on questioning you all separately. You preferred having at least one of the boys to back you up. They’d been dealing with the whole interview process for so long now they knew how to avoid answering things they didn’t want to, knew how to deal with rude reporters. But it was all new to you. Perhaps that was why this particular interview had gone so badly. There was no Freddie to make the right snide comment, no Roger to get pissed off on your behalf, no Brian or John to squeeze your knee comfortingly or take over when you go tongue tied.

Things between you and the rest of the band had been going much better since Freddie had locked you in that room together. It didn’t happen overnight, there were still lingering tensions. But any badmouthing they did of you was out of your hearing which you much preferred. Gradually, as the tour wore on, there were less tensions. They got used to having you around, began including you in their games of scrabble and their not-quite-awake conversations over hotel breakfasts. Until one day, in the final leg of the tour, when Freddie admitted to you quietly that he hadn’t overheard any whispered comments for nearly a week. “And here I was thinking we’d never get there.” “Oh hush, darling, I told you from the beginning they wouldn’t hate you forever. Sure they took a little longer to come around than I had anticipated but it all worked out in the end. And now when you tell them the execs have asked for another full album featuring you, they probably won’t kill you.” They hadn’t, of course, though you’d worried for the safety of everyone involved in making the decision. Roger looked as if he were a second away from punching the first person to talk to him.

They took less time to calm down though, especially after they saw how nervous you got before the first interview. Your agent had decided some preliminary press would help build excitement for the album before the songs were even written. Calls were made, journalists were found, and before you knew it you were facing a crowd of people vying to ask you their questions, cameras flashing the whole time. It was a lot. More than pushing you into the deep end, you’d be thrown to the bloody sharks. Any lingering ill will the boys had for you vanished after that. They’d all thankfully been there too, had drawn the attention to themselves rather than let you struggle to answer everything on your own. After that they’d kept an eye on you during the smaller interviews. Mostly the reporters were happy to talk to you all together and, as long as you said one or two things about how excited you were to be working with Queen again, and how much fun touring with them was, you could get away with letting them take lead. But every now and then you got stuck with some jackass who wanted to quiz you solo. And this interview, this horrid interview, had been one of them.

Roger pushed the magazine away from himself, letting it slide as far down your kitchen table as it would go. “She’s a fucking bitch that reporter.” You looked down at the magazine, still open to your interview, the headline alone making your stomach turn. “No, sorry, that’s an insult to dogs. She’s a fucking cunt.” “Rog,” “No, that’s an insult to vaginas. There is no word strong enough for that poor excuse for a journalist.” “Roger, sit down.” Roger shot Freddie a dirty look but sat down anyway, his knee bouncing with restless energy, “Sorry. I’m just pissed off.” “Yes, we gathered that, thanks Rog,” “She took everything I said out of context, you have to believe me.” “We do, Y/N, we do,” John said softly from beside you, rubbing circles on your back. “It started well, I swear. Just the usual questions y’know, what’s it like working with Queen? How does it feel to be singing next to Freddie Mercury? Were you nervous about touring with them? Can you give us any hints about the new album? All the things that usually come up that Freddie coached me on how to answer, and I was doing fine. I had my prepared answers and there was no stumbling over words or anything like that. I thought I’d finally got the hang of it all and then she asked me to elaborate on what it was like working with you. I’d already told her the usual thing – it was fun and y’know blew my mind and all that. But then she asked how it compare to being your groupie.” “You didn’t answer her did you?” “Christ no, Brian! Jesus what do you take me for?” Brian held his hands up in apology. “I told her that it wasn’t relevant, but she kept asking, one question after another thrown at me and no matter what I said she didn’t stop. All sorts of stuff, like which of you was the best shag, and if I’d only wanted to be your groupie because I hoped it would lead to my own album, and if I was still offering my services,” you made air quotes around the words, “accused me of using you for my own gain and asked if you were the first band I’d tried it with or if you were just the only ones gullible enough to let me. I tried to tell her no and that I wasn’t going to answer those questions but she just kept going and then she told me to get used to the attention and left. I guess she didn’t need my answers to write a whole article about it.” “Which of us is the best shag?” Brian repeated the question though you suspected he wasn’t just checking he’d heard you correctly. The others all fell quiet, waiting to see if you’d answer. “Really Bri? That’s what you got from that?” “Right, right, sorry, not the important part. Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” “Bri’s right, love,” Roger said, much calmer than he had been before, “there’s nothing of substance in here. Like this quote, as for the fun Ms Y/L/N mentioned was had on tour, one can’t help but wonder just what she meant. Could the stories about nights spent playing boardgames be covers for debauched, drug-fuelled, orgies the likes of which would make a pornstar blush, I mean, there’s nothing there. It’s all conjecture and anyone worth a damn will see right through it.” “But some people will believe it,” “Maybe, yes,” Freddie said, “but it’ll blow over. We’ve all been in the same place you are at one time or another. If anything this officially makes you one of the band.” “Yeah, Y/N, it’s all just spiteful rubbish.” “Thanks guys, but I think I might just call it a day, go back to bed. Stay if you want, I don’t mind. But if you leave lock the door behind you.” You stood and headed to your bedroom.

The four boys stayed quiet until you were out of your room but you heard their hushed voices and hissed comments through your bedroom door as you pulled off your jeans and unclasped your bra from under the baggy jumper you wore. It took about five minutes before there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. “Y/N, can I come in?” You contemplated feigning sleep. “I know you’re not asleep.” You sighed and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, “Fine, Roger, come in.” “Freddie’s gone to make some calls,” he said, standing just inside your doorway, hands in his pockets. “Calls about what? It’s out there now, there’s no getting it back.” “No but we need to make it clear to other journalists that those kinds of questions won’t be answered in any future interviews, and hopefully we can make sure that parasite never gets to come anywhere near us again.” “Isn’t that mean to parasites?” Roger chuckled, “getting over it already, see,” he sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on your covered knee, “I know this sucks, and I get that you’re ashamed, but I promise it’s not as bad as it feels right now.” “I’m not ashamed.” “What?” “You said I’m ashamed of it but I’m not.” “Oh. I thought-” “I’m a bit embarrassed because obviously I’ve never told my family what it is I got up to when I went to all those concerts and now they’re all going to know, lord knows some of them will believe the worst of it. And I’m pissed off that I didn’t stand up for myself more. I just let her keep cutting me off and talking over me when I should have told her to fuck off or at least called her out for being a prudish arsehole who probably only attacked me because she’s jealous I’ve fucked three quarters of Queen. And I’m annoyed that you’ve all been brought up in the article, and she’s questioning whether your good people just because you sept with me. I mean does she expect you all to be virginal saints or something? It’s just frustrating and yes, upsetting. But I’m definitely not ashamed.” “Huh, okay then.” “What?” “Nothing, just, we assumed you regretted sleeping with us.” “Lord no. It wasn’t planned, like she was insinuating, but seeping with you definitely helped me get my foot in the door with this whole music thing. And even if it hadn’t done that, it was still fun as hell and made me feel good. If I wasn’t fucking you I would have been out having mediocre sex with guys I met in pubs and I don’t care how much of a slut it makes me seem, but I’d rather fuck a whole band every single night and actually get off than have a disappointing drunk lay with a guy who’s never heard of the clitoris. Fuck, I’d still be doing the whole groupie thing now, and be perfectly happy with it, if Freddie hadn’t heard me singing that day. That night at the after party, that was heaps of fun.” “Give me a second would you,” Roger stood and walked to the door, giving you another glance before he turned the corner. You watched the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his behaviour but your questions were answered soon enough when he reappeared with Brian and John following. “So apparently we misread the situation,” Brian said, taking the seat Roger had just vacated. John sat cross legged at the end of your bed while Roger flopped onto the mattress beside you. “I can’t believe you’d think I regretted being your groupie. Have you met me?” “In our defence you seemed very upset, what were we meant to think?” “I had a shitty interview and got called a whore in a very public way, of course I’m upset. Doesn’t mean I regret anything.” “Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, we should have realised. But we have a proposition for you. We actually thought of a way to cheer you up when we first saw the magazine this morning but then when we got here you seemed so sad and we didn’t want to make you more upset or uncomfortable,” “What Brian is trying to say is that we have an idea we think you might like.” “Jesus will you two stop beating around the bush?” “Shut up Rog, I’m getting there.” “Y/N,” Roger said cutting off the others before they could waffle any longer, “Would you like to fuck us again?” You almost choked. “Zero tact. What he means is, we thought we could cheer you up. All three of us, entirely focused on making you forget that magazine.” “Wait, I’m confused,” you massaged the bridge of your nose as you tried to catch up to them, “you saw an article that called me a whore and thought it would cheer me up to, what, be your shared fucktoy again? Yeah it was fun but-” “No, no, no, that’s not what we mean,” John said, “you’d be in control of how it all happens. It wouldn’t be like last time.” “So, you’d be my whores?” “I guess?” “The point is,” Roger chimed in, “we want to make you feel better. If that means making you cups of tea and buying you a box of chocolates that’s fine. But it could also mean you having three cocks and all the orgasms you can handle.” You looked from Roger to John to Brian and then back again, trying to work out if they were joking or not. But they all seemed sincere enough for you to actually think about their proposition. It wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from them, and it hadn’t crossed your mind until they mentioned it. But now that they had, you had to admit it sounded fun. Last time had been fun and that was when you’d been passed around and used mercilessly, so having them all again, but with a bit more say in how it happened, could only be better. Plus, part of you wanted to prove how unashamed of your groupie history you were and what better way than this? “Okay, I’m in.”

“Do we need to set any ground rules?” Brian asked. “You all know my safeword,” “Saxophone,” You laughed at the chorus of eager voices, “Yes, exactly. Other than that I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not like this is new exactly, is it?” “Well, no, I s’pose not.” “Exactly. And if there’s anything I don’t want I’ll tell you. So you’re,” you pointed at Roger, “going to kiss me now, while you two undress,” “Getting right to it, excellent,” Roger laughed, as he pushed himself closer to you. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss you right away. It started off a little too soft for your liking but as soon as soon as you made it clear how into it you were, kissing him back harder and pressing yourself closer, Roger reciprocated. His hands wandered down to your chest as you felt Brian and John get up, following your orders, their clothes left where they landed on the floor. Roger’s hands were soon replaced by Brian’s as he knelt behind you, and you found your head being pulled around so he could kiss you too. Roger took the opportunity to undress as Brian and John caught you between them. You couldn’t tell who was removing your clothes, only that once your jumper had been pulled over your head John was kissing you. He leaned back, tugging you along so Brian could pull your underwear off, his hands caressing your bare bum. “How do you want us?” John asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Um,” you looked around at the three very naked bandmates waiting for your word, “One of you is going to eat me out. Don’t care who but I am going to cum.” “Yes Ma’am,” John laughed, lazily saluting you before rolling you onto your back and shuffling down between your thighs. You were taken by surprise when you felt his tongue run between your lips, expecting nips on your thighs and the teasing puff of his breath as he hovered just out of your reach. But he was clearly taking the job of cheering you up seriously. Brian and Roger weren’t any different, settling into the spaces on either side of you, their light touches only enhancing the feeling John had set off. You felt their fingertips on your breasts and in the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to make you gasp in pain. “So what would you like from us, love? What dirty little fantasies are going through your head right now?” Roger tapped his finger on the middle of your forehead. You opened your mouth but a small oh as John latched onto your clit replaced the words you’d been intending to say. “Think we’re going to need a little more than that, Y/N. C’mon, tell us what you want. Do you want us to just take turns fucking you, filling you up over and over and over.” “Or are you thinking more along the lines of last time? Taking two at a time because one cock isn’t quite enough for you now?” “Try three,” you managed to get out as you slid a hand into John’s hair to hold him in place, “want you all at once.” “Jesus,” Brian swore, dropping his lips to your neck. “I’ve been a piss-poor groupie considering the stories that reporter’s peddling. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been taking all three of you at once constantly, but we’ve never actually done that, have we? Might as well embrace my slut title and change that,” “Let us work up to it, Love” Roger said softly, recapturing your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You whined, partly from Roger and Brian’s attention and partly because John raised his head, your hips rising slightly at the loss. “Guess I should start stretching you out then,” he said offhandedly as he licked his fingers, the same way you’d seen him do a hundred times before while playing. You couldn’t stop the moan that rose up in your throat, the sound only making John chuckle against you as he lowered his head and resumed his focus on your clit.

It only took a few more minutes to have you swearing through your first orgasm. The two fingers John had inside you enough to send you over the edge as they brushed against every sensitive spot they could reach. Your neck tingled where Brian had marked it and your nipples were stiff peaks, extra sensitive to cool air after he and Roger had delighted in torturing them with teeth and tongue and fingertips. “How was that?” John asked, slowly withdrawing his fingers when he was satisfied you’d finished. “Fuck,” was all you could say, the three boys laughing, John dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Think you can handle more?” “Actually Bri I think I might be done,” “Oh. Really?” “I’m kidding.” “Thank Christ. I’m so fucking hard there’s no way I could get my pants back on anyway.” You laughed and pushed yourself to sit up, “Poor thing. I suppose you can use my cunt for a bit.” “Classic guitarists always getting first go,” “Shut it drum boy, I was about to offer to blow you but if you’re going to be like that,” “No, no, I didn’t say anything.” “He did Y/N, I heard him, blow me instead,” “Ignore Deaks, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” “Like a couple of – oh!” you were cut off as Brian grabbed you round the middle and wrenched you onto your hands and knees, “children. A little warning next time please,” “Sorry,” Brian leaned forward to kiss your back as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, “but if I didn’t move this along we’d be stuck arguing about who gets to blow who forever.” “N-no we wouldn’t,” you stumbled over your words as Brian’s long, talented fingers pressed into you, “I made up my mind, Rog in my throat.” “What about me?” “Don’t worry Deaks, you’ll get your turn. If you want you can spank me though, or bite me or pull my hair or whatever else you can think of. You know my limits. Also we’ll need lube so if you want to go digging through my bathroom draws and find some you can. Might be a reward in it if you do.” “Spankher, please,” Brian nearly whined, “always makes her cunt so tight.” “Think I’d rather claim that reward thanks” “Alright then I’ll spank her,” “Guys! Can you stop arguing. I have holes enough for all of you, that’s kind of the point of this. And, Brian and Roger, if I don’t get both of your cocks deep, deep inside me within the next thirty seconds I will kick you both out and let John have his way with me on repeat.” A moment of silence accompanied your statement. You saw Roger, eyes wide, look over at John and then to Brian, and could only assume they were returning his dumbfounded look. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven,” Roger blinked as if waking from a daydream and hurried to kneel in front of you, one hand gliding over the length of his cock as the other reached for your hair. Your mouth fell open in a gasp as Brian suddenly filled you, holding your hips tight as he bottomed out, which gave Roger enough opportunity to push himself towards the back of your throat. There was a shift in the mattress as John got up but you were a little too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut or the sound of him rummaging through your bathroom. You only realised he’d returned when a sudden, loud spank hit you and you knew Brian’s hands were still occupied with your hips. For their parts, Roger and Brian were keeping you busy, skewered between them, not sure whether the noises coming from your own throat were moans or gags or wordless begging. Brian breathlessly laughed as John spanked you again, “So fucking tight. Bit harder?” “Y/N?” You made an assenting humming noise and nodded as much as Roger’s cock would allow which John rightly took as permission and so hit you again, harder than the last.

It was an intoxicating feeling, taking two cocks at once, all the while wanting more and knowing you’d have it before long. Brian fucked you hard and precise, as if his goal was to split you open from the inside out. Had it just been him and you alone you would have found yourself creeping further up the bed. It had happened a few times before, leaving you either hanging off the edge of the bed, or with your hands over your head and pressed against a wall in an effort to keep from banging your head. But all he managed to do was push you further onto Roger’s cock, making you gag and choke more often. Roger didn’t seem to mind that though, giving as good as Brian, firmly gripping your hair so that you couldn’t even attempt to move off him. The added impact from John’s hand just made you shiver and moan. He was the one who sensed you were getting close though, reaching under you to rub your clit and give you the extra push you needed to get over the edge. Brian wasn’t too far behind you, groaning as he tried to keep fucking you, his hips faltering as he twitched inside you and spilled his seed. You felt his hands on your backside as he spread your cheeks, leaning down to spit on your arsehole before he pulled out of you. Once Brian was finished with you, you tapped Roger’s thigh and he pulled back. “You okay?” he asked, stroking your cheek with a knuckle. “Brilliant, just thought that since I can move a bit easier, I’d take over. You look like you were close.” “Fucking yes I was close,” You giggled as you readjusted your position to be more comfortable, once again taking Roger’s cock between your lips. This time you pushed yourself lower, taking him deeper, making Roger swear above you. You pulled back again, hollowing your cheeks until you sank down once more. A strangled moan seemed to catch in Roger’s throat and it spurred you on. You reached out to cups his balls, massaging them in your hand as you took him as deep as you could and hummed. The hum turned into something akin to a squeal (though slightly muffled and choked off at the end) as the sticky cool of John’s lube covered finger teased your arsehole, tracing circles around it before slowly sinking into you. The sight seemed to be enough to finish Roger off, one hand on the back of your head to steady himself as he shot his load down your throat, pulling out towards the end so the last of it dribbled down your chin. “Now me?” John asked, pushing a second finger in with the first as Roger let you go. “Stretch me out a little more and then yes,” “Oh, no, I’m not ready for that yet. I want your tits.” “What?” “Your tits, Y/N. Turn around,” His fingers left you and you were free to move, shuffling on your knees to face him. John pressed down on your shoulder pushing you to sit back on your knees and adjusting your angle so he could slide his lubed up shaft between your breasts. He pushed them together with his palms and slid them up and down his dick as he rutted against you, spreading the sticky lube over your chest. With a slight smile at John, you  dipped your head a little and kissed the tip of his cock as it moved towards your lips. “Fuck, been waiting so long for this,” he groaned, “gon-na make a mmm-ess all over you.” He gave up on speech as he neared his released, communicating exclusively in grunts and increased speed until he finished, covering your chest and sternum in ropes of cum that dripped down your skin.

You laughed as John fell back. The hardest you could remember laughing in a while. “What’s so funny?” Brian asked, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “Just thought what that reporter would say if she could see me now, naked and dripping in spunk,” you managed to get out between giggles, “her face would be fucking priceless.” The boys laughed along with you, glad you could see the funny side of the situation with the article. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” “Yes Rog, but I’m still not done with you.” “What did you have in mind?” “Well,” you crawled over to where Roger was sitting, leant back on his hands, and placed your hand on his throat, tilting his face away from you a little so you could lick a long stripe from his jaw to his temple, “I meant it when I said I wanted all of you.” “Never doubted it, love,” he sounded a little breathless. “Just let me know when you’re all ready to go again. Not you Rog, I can see you’re ready.” “I’m good too Y/N,” “Yeah, same,” “In that case,” you shifted your position, lining yourself up with Roger and sinking down on him, squeezing his throat a little harder as you adjusted. “John, you still got that lube?” “Yes, uh, yeah here,” there was the sound of a cap flipping open and you leaned forward encouraging Roger to lay back so you could give John better access. “Hey, Rog, can you spread your legs a little wider,” “S’pose so, just don’t kneel on my bollocks or anything,” “God give me a second, the thought of that just made mine try and jump up inside me,” You giggled as John shuffled closer, using his fingers to spread some more of the lube over you and to keep stretching you out. “What about me, Y/N?” “I haven’t forgotten you Bri. I want every inch of your cock shoved so far down my throat I can feel you for a week. Just let me get used to the others first, yeah? Still feels kinda odd having two of you at once since we’ve not done it much.” Brian nodded, contenting himself with running his fingers through your hair as he waited. John, having pulled his fingers from you and slicked up his dick with more lube, sank into you slowly, his hand on your back to keep you bent forward. It suddenly felt hard for you to pull in a new breath as you tried to adjust to the feeling of both of them, especially when John gave an experimental thrust, fucking you slowly to make sure it felt okay for everyone. Brian talked softly, reminding you to breathe and telling you how well you were doing, until you were better in control of your lungs and ready for more. “Are you sure you want me as well?” “Yes. Lets show that parasite just how far I’ll go, huh?” Roger laughed, “that’s the spirit.”

Brian didn’t need more convincing than that, though it did take a little trial and error to find the best way to accommodate all three of them. Brian tried perching his arse on the headboard but Roger whinged about “seeing nothing but Bri’s ballsack flopping about. And I know you see things when you’re gangbanging but that is too much.” In the end Brian stood next to the bed by Roger’s head, enough to the side that Roger’s view wasn’t impeded but still close enough so that the angle wouldn’t strain your neck. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail as he pulled your mouth onto his cock, letting you work yourself further down his shaft as slowly as you needed, checking in with you every now and again to make sure you could take more. The other two were mostly still as you adjusted to Brian, though once or twice they’d given a small thrust or shifted slightly and made you whine. Once you had Brian buried as deep in your throat as he could go you paused for a few seconds and then pulled back again, strings of saliva breaking on your lips. “How was that?” “Good,” you gasped, “New. Kinda weird but very fucking good.” That didn’t really explain anything but you weren’t sure how to describe the nearly overwhelming fullness, the sudden heat, the tension in your belly which you couldn’t pinpoint as either anticipation or nerves or just because you were stretched open on three cocks. “And that’s without us doing anything,” “I know,” you grinned, “I’m excited. Why didn’t we try this sooner? But now you guys can cut loose. I’m not sure I’ll be much use in like riding you properly or whatever. Just don’t know my brain can focus on keeping both of you in my holes while I’m thinking about blowing Bri well. So, just fuck me however you can and we’ll see how it goes.” “Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good,” John said, rubbing your back softly. “Yeah, course we will, love. And if ends up being shit then we can just take turns instead,” You nodded and took a deep breath before leaning forward to take Brian again. You controlled the pace once more, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking on his tip, as the other two figured out their rhythm. It was a strange sensation to start. It felt clumsy and more than a little awkward, especially when John mentioned how he could feel Roger inside you. But that eased as they adjusted and worked out how best to fuck you. John held your hips as he plunged into you, each thrust harder than the last as his confidence rose and he found out what you liked most. Roger’s hands moved over your skin rather than staying in once place, palming your breasts and teasing your nipples between his fingertips before sliding down your side to grasp your waist and then back up to your breasts. You were rocked on his cock with each of John’s pounding thrusts, which only made you moan around Brian’s. You let instinct take over there, one hand stroking from his base up to meet your lips as you swallowed him deeper. His hips jolted when you whined or moaned and before long you dropped your hand away from his shaft, instead grabbing his arse to keep yourself steady. He pulled you off him again and you could feel the spit on your chin. “Forgot what a fucking incredible cocksucker you are.” Brian groaned, “But can I take over? Fuck your throat?” “Yeah, okay,” You had time for another breath and then you were pushed down again, right to the base. “There we go,” he groaned, pulling on your hair, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Your hum was choked off and ended in a gag as Brian ground his hips into your face. That seemed to be the tipping point though. The moment all three of them forgot about awkward views or who was positioned where and became entirely consumed with fucking you deep and hard. You were glad to let them lead, grabbing you, pinching and pulling and squeezing every inch of you they could reach. And all the while spearing you on their dicks, keeping you in a cycle of mounting pleasure as they found all your most responsive spots inside and out. You felt your orgasm building again, the heat rising, getting more urgent as you got closer and closer. The sounds you made were muffled by Brian but that didn’t stop you making them, moaning with every pounding thrust. As you neared the edge Brian pulled you off his cock so they could all hear you properly, their encouragement mixing in your lust addled brain and creating a wall of noise that pushed you over the edge with a loud cry. And yet they didn’t stop. Brian waited until your orgasm was reduced to aftershocks that made you wince and whine and then cut off your air as he entered your throat again, resuming the long, deep strokes that made you gag until he came, holding you down as he emptied himself completely.

As soon as the other two didn’t have to worry about giving Brian access to your mouth they adjusted your position, John pushing on your back until you were bent over. Roger attached his lips to your throat as they simultaneously fucked into you, the change of angle pushing Roger’s cock against you in a way that had you seeing spots. You cried out again as Brian lay a slap on your arse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John grunted as he came too, unable to hold out any longer though he didn’t withdraw from you either. His hips slowed a bit and he whined softly but he kept fucking you. “Rog,” you panted, trying to get him to finish too. “You’ve got another one in you, c’mon love,” You whined but nodded, the familiar sensation already tightening in the pit of your stomach. Again the three of them encouraged you, John wrapping his hand around your waist to find your clit, Brian reaching under you to squeeze your breast as his other hand came down on your arse again. They gave you no option but to cum, shivering between them. Finally Roger let go too, moaning into your ear as he filled you up.

It took a moment to disentangle everyone, John being careful not to go too fast and hurt you, but finally you were able to collapse together, sweaty and panting, spread out over the room. “So, cheered up now?” Brian asked from where he’d lain down on the carpet You peered over the edge of the bed at him, “Think so. Thanks for that, it was fun.” “Any time, love,” Roger chuckled from the end of the bed, patting your knee, “and I mean that.” “I’m not you groupie anymore,” “Never said you were,” “Then what?” “What Rog means,” John cut in from where he’d spread out on you window seat, “is that if you ever need cheering up or to let out some frustrations, we’re here. We’re happy to help,” “Does your help always involve a gangbang?” “Not always,” Brian laughed. “Well, a lot of the time,” Roger added with a wink. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you chuckled, “I’ll have to face my family at some point and there’s a high chance I’ll leave upset and frustrated so, we’ll see. Wonder how Freddie’s getting on with those calls.” “I’ll go give him a ring and find out,” Roger said, half groaning as he stood and stretched. He didn’t bother grabbing any of his discarded clothes before he left. “I’ll take Rog his pants,” John sighed as he got up and replaced his own underwear, exiting the room with an eyeroll, Roger’s underwear pinched between his thumb and pointer. “And I’ll...stay here?” Brian said, “unless you need anything?” “Nah, I’m going to jump in the shower. Let the other two know that’s where I am, would you?” “If you’re doing that, can I have the bed?” “Sure Bri,” you laughed, “as long as you promise to change the sheets when you wake up.”

[dramarising-replacement]

G1 Hoarder Revamp and the Mountain of Salt

Can we all just acknowledge how much of a total fuck up the new G1 ping system is? I feel bad because they obviously went through so much work and beta testing for this system but it’s absolutely garbage in practice. This isn’t meant as a huge roast (even though I do think the creators could do with getting knocked down a few pegs given how poorly they’ve treated people through this entire process, oops) but I hope they at least see this and see things that they can work on. Obviously, going to them and sharing this stuff in person isn’t possible since L from arcane is notorious for gossiping and overall not super trustworthy, so anon route we go. I’ll give credit where credit is due: they definitely tried to go on the right path and the coding is good in theory. The big issue here is that they tried to fix something that was not great but worked with something that is not great and barely works. Sure there are some good things about the new ping system: if it’s not busy it’s not longer than six or seven minutes to do all of it for a few dragons, which, compared to the previous method? Pretty good timing. Helps automatically tag some colorgroups without having people confused about if their dragon counts or not, and uh... probably something else. The cons far outweigh the pros though: -sheet can only be used one at a time: terrible in theory, terrible in practice, there’s no queue system either so you’re not even guaranteed to go next even if you’ve been waiting ages. This becomes a nightmare around any holiday, as we’ve seen around notn, since everyone flocks to the ping generator and then quickly abandons after seeing the mess there. This should have been something that they found a way to work with from the start, especially since the previous spreadsheet, despite how long it took to sift through if you were actually assed to do all the specifics, could still be used by multiple people. -userface issues: going into the spreadsheet and it may all just be blank, does this mean someone’s using it? Someone isn’t? If you go ahead and assume not you’re going to get warned that you overrode someone since they get the ID to your dragon, if you don’t assume then you end up waiting for ages like an idiot and someone else swoops up the opportunity. The loading bar on the side doesn’t help give that info either since it constantly reloads due to the poorly planned code. Where users have their cells selected also doesn’t help since that isn’t always accurate. There are many times where the loading bar isn’t seen going, there isn’t any visible text on the screen, no comment in the box, but it’s still in use. This isn’t viable for anyone, especially not people who don’t fully understand how the system works. If you’re going to make it for only one person’s use at a time, you need to ensure it’s easier to see what’s going on for everyone. -laggy as all get out: sure, I don’t have to go through 15 pages of different types of pings on the old G1 pinglist and shovel through all the duplicates and specifics list people, but having more than 13 dragons or even doing a bigger lair sale (or even just anything during notn) means you get to wait for the program to chug away for ages (as well as the easy chance for someone to just cut in halfway through a load and have you start all over again or wait) and hope that the three people behind you don’t get impatient or angry as you have to do three separate input sessions rather than massing them all together as you could with the previous spreadsheet. -poorly designed aesthetically: maybe this may sound petty to some, but the design of the system is pretty terrible in terms of layout and color choice. This isn’t to say it’s just ugly though; after speaking about it with people who aren’t neurotypical, have disordered thinking processes, and/or have generalized issues reading things (autism spectrum, dyslexia, semi-visually impaired, etc.) it’s pretty clear that the entire thing is not accessible whatsoever for anyone who can’t immediately decipher what anything is. Black text on bright red is not a good thing for most people beyond old MySpace edgies. If you, as someone without reading or comprehension difficulties, are having a difficult time focusing on it: maybe consider how difficult it’d be for anyone else. The way the rules or tutorial section is laid out also does not help in terms of accessibility! It’s clunky and hard to read, does not flow well, and doesn’t explain as thoroughly as you may think. If you’re someone who uses coded spreadsheets often? Yeah sure, it might be understood. If you’re not? Welp. Good luck kiddo. -very poor user help: this is on the mods or creators more than the spreadsheet itself. If someone has a problem, the first thing you should do is talk with them to find the difficulty and tackle it from there. I’ve seen, multiple times now, where either N (plague) or L (arcane) straight up tell people that they can’t help them and that they should just read the guide on the front page. Like sure, they read them, but something is tricky for them and they’re asking for help. They can read the rules and guide again but without outside help, guess what? Not gonna help them. If you just keep linking them the forum or telling them to read the first page it won’t actually help anyone! One of your jobs as the creators here is to help the community that you made it for, not just parrot that they need to read. Be better. Add that to a system which is not forgiving of any mistakes whatsoever and it becomes a terrible little cocktail. Also does not help that, despite their sugar attitude about having people test it in discord servers, the creators l and r/p (both arcane) don’t actually help people who need help using it. -wait times/queue: this ties in to an earlier point, but there’s no way to organize who goes next. Sure, it might sound strange, but when you have to wait ages to get access despite you being there ahead of anon llama/drama/dingdong/animal because they can all hop in ahead of you, it becomes frustrating. People don’t always type in that itty bitty box to say what they’re doing, and people easily erase it or write over it, or they just outright ignore it. Obviously not everyone is going to do that, but it’s way too easy for people who are greedy/entitled to step over those who are being polite and patient. -no quick ping options this is also kind of minor, but at least with the old spreadsheet you could just click in and say “okay, I just want to ping XXY general for this because I have a quick sale.” Guess what: nah. You have to go through the entire chugging process and queue and everything else just to get that snippet of information on who to ping. What once took maybe five clicks is now five minutes to thirty depending on how many people are using it. Wanna quick check if a dragon with XYZ colours you hatched is one that someone wants specifically? Nah, fuck you. You have to input all the data and wait instead of just doing what was once a super easy quick search. There is so much other shit wrong with this system and I’m honestly surprised N (plague) allowed them to do this. Sure, the old pinglist could have done with some updating, but that should have been done in the form of clearing redundant double pings, maybe a way to sort through specifics like ‘male only’ and mass copy names there. Quality of life things, not this just... total mess. I understand that L and R/P got it into their heads that they needed to fix it and that they wanted to take over the entire system themselves, but they should have kept their pride out of it for once. The sheet to input what dragons you want is also another entire nightmare. It’s frustrating to go through the google poll a dozen times to say exactly what colors/eyes/gender/pasta-shape/siesta-fiesta under the sun you want rather than have a quick way to input it by drop-downs or even just a text based option like the old one had. It’s so easy to forget what you put in or which one you want to put in this time, so easy to end up making mistakes that you don’t see, etc. It’s just not an effective system. It’s great in theory, and sure, it’s all sparkly and new, but it’s like admiring an aluminum trash can. Shiny and sparkly under the sun, still holding a whole lot of hot garbage though. I understand that some people may find it easier, and that’s great! I’ve used it for a few things and yeah, it’s okay, but I wish the old one was back given all the grief and frustration this one has caused. Obviously I’m not in the place to be like DO THIS OR DO THAT since I’m not the one making the sheet here, but I do feel like the people who use it have every right to give commentary and feedback where possible. Even moreso when the creators and team aren’t actually as welcoming as they try to appear to be. As much as it sucks, a lot of L and R/P’s (primarily L) false niceties have kind of come to the surface lately which makes this whole situation just that much more awkward. If people don’t feel like they can approach you because they know you’ll rip into them here or on the anon site immediately, maybe you shouldn’t be a main creator of something for the user base or a mod for a bigger group. Just some side-thought to all this other stuff. Big post, big rambles, I can’t bring myself to organise it though because I’m pretty fed up and tired. Take from this what you may, but basically fix your shit new G1 Hoarder peeps.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

GET IN THE RING.

Angel Reyes x Reader

Anon asked: angel reyes x reader in which a fight (you two are like frenemies) leads to sex

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: This is the first part of Get In the Car. I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits to: @angels-reyes

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You break in laughter because of one of the bad jokes that Tranq usually does. You're sitting on the couch with your legs over the next table with a beer between your hands. Taking a break from car scrapping. Bishop and Taza are playing pool talking loudly about the last trip they did, cause they almost fucked up but, as always, they safely made it home. Some motorbikes ride the front yard, parking next to the others. And you don't give it any importance listening to the boys laughing, till you hear a hard crash. Your heartbeat stops for a while. Everyone inside the clubhouse is staring at you. Your blood starts to boil, jumping off of the sofa to run towards your car.

Angel is pale. So pale, trying to cover whatever that happened. EZ, Coco and Gilly don't know where to hide themselves. You notice the strange way his motorbike is parked.

“I swear I'm gonna fix it!” Angel is terrified, and you can see it on his face.

You two have never been best friends, more like co-workers who respect each other. But sometimes, you want to kill him. For example, right now, you definitely want to kill him. The rest of the crew is behind you, shaking their heads while Bishop rubs his temple. Your car is the most precious possession you have, being the last present that your father gave you before he died. You love the car as you could love your own child. So, a tear is running down your cheek when you push him away.

On the left side of the bumper is a dent without paint and the headlight is smashed. You kneel with your trembling hands trying not to touch the bodywork. Your Mustang is an old model, so fixing it is going to cost you a lot of money and time. Especially for the painting. You could destroy his bike as payback, but even if you know it is an accident, you need some kind of revenge.

“Get in the ring.” You say in a whisper, with your eyes fills of tears and a hoarse tone of voice in your throat.

“What?” He asks, chuckling.

And that only makes everything worse. Getting up, you tangle your fingers on his shirt.

“Get. In. The. Fucking. Ring”. You repeat. Slowly. So close to him that you could touch his lips with yours.

“He said he's gonna fix it, mami.” Coco intermediates, trying to calm the situation.

“I'm not gonna fight with ya.” Angel says, removing your grip on his shirt.

You smile softly, licking your inner lip, before hitting his nose with your right fist. The oldest Reyes falls to the floor, and even if Taza and Tranq try to catch you, you're faster than them. Practically jumping on top of him to continue hitting him. And Angel tries to defend himself, punching you on your abdomen, to make you fall by his side. There's blood on his face and you can't breathe well, coughing for a second, before the Mayans manage to get you up and separate you from the other.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Reyes, I swear!”

“It was a fucking accident, you’re fucking crazy! You broke my nose!”

“‘I’m gonna break you something more! Let me go! Let me go!” You yell at him, squeezing under Tranq's strong arms.

Two shots in the air have your attention, freezing your blood and moves. You turn to Bishop, with an arm raised up and his gun in his hand. He looks upset and you understand him. But they should think about how they would feel if someone crashed their bikes. Tranq finally lets you go, fixing your shirt when he does.

“Angel you're not gonna ride till her car is fixed.” Bishop declares.

“What?”

You chuckle in silence because, at least, it's something.

“And you...” The president points at you, while you cross your arms and lift your chin with some pride on the gesture. “You're gonna fix him up.”

“What? He has two hands, what the hell, Bishop? He can do it by himself!” You claim with a frown.

“Don't yell at me again, you hear me? Shut the fuck up and do it.” His voice is so calm that it scares you more than anything.

You swallow, cleaning your tears with the back of your hands, full of anger. With a simple nod, you walk towards the clubhouse through the open door. And you can hear the heavy steps of the oldest Reyes following you cautiously, in case that you try to punch him again. Crossing the hallway to the main bathroom and opening the medical kit, you grab some cotton, two stitches and a bottle of surgical alcohol.

“Sit.” You just say, pointing to the toilet.

“Hey, I'm truly sorry.” He replies as he follows your instructions.

“Shut up.” You try to breathe, long enough not to hit him again.

Kneeling again and making you some space between his legs, you wet the cotton in alcohol breaking it into two pieces, for every hole. Angel growls closing his eyes hard, and you could have been more careful but it's part of your revenge. The nose isn't broken but, even so, you stick one of the stitches on the bridge of it pulling the skin closer, hoping that it also helps with cutting the bleeding.

After it, with some more cotton you clean his face. He sighs for a moment, grabbing your wrist to grab your attention.

“Coco pushed me and my bike fell on your car. I know, I know what it means to you, and I'm truly sorry, (Y/N).” He says then with a soft tone.

You let go of his hand, shaking your head as if you wanted to downplay it, because it doesn't have much more solution. Getting up, you clean your hands with water and soap in the sink, drying them on a towel. But, when you're about to leave the bathroom, Angel closes the door on your face.

“Could you please talk to me? Say something. Whatever.” He demands, sounding... desperate?

“Like what? Like that I'm fucking tired of all your foolishness and your actions without thinking?”

“It. Was. An. Accident.” He defended.

“Then fix it, and stop pissing me off.” You try to open the door again, but he closes it. “You're still doing it.”

“'Forgive me?” He asks, starting to make you lose the little patience you have left.

“No.”

“Then, you're not going anywhere”. Angel rests his back against the door, locking it, cross-armed.

“Fine! You got it! Now, let me go. I have work to attend to.”

“A kiss.” He says pointing at his cheek while he leans towards you.

You snort rubbing your eyes with two fingers, shaking your head for a while.

“If you turn your face, I'm gonna rip off your balls.” You threaten him, before holding his chin to press your lips over his beard. “Now, let me go.”

“Another one.”

“Angel, I am not in the mood to play one of our ga...”

He interrupts by kissing you. At first, you can't move. You don't have any reaction. Only your mouths pressed against the other. And you want to run away when your cheeks start to redden, but he locks you between his body and the closed door.

One of his hands travels to a side of your neck, with his lips tasting yours slowly, and his free arm surrounding your waist. No, you can't run away from him, and you're not even sure if you want to do it. Your mouth and your desire betray you, falling into his claws. He puts the hand on your nape wrapping your throat, straining one leg between yours. His knee pushing you to the limit, rubbing your crotch, while you fight against yourself to not moan, drowning every one.

“I bet you're fucking wet.” He whispers against your lips.

“I'm more dry than the desert, Reyes.” You say back, pushing him away with both hands on his chest.

You're trying to recover your breath, resting your weight against the door. But you're not gonna open it.

“Okay... Plan ‘b’.” He nods chuckling, before lifting you up, hitting your back to the wood and his fingers nailed on your ass.

His lips are now attacking your neck, sucking, biting and licking your skin till you finally set free a heavy gasp with a hand on his head, pushing him closer. His waist is moving between your legs, looking for more friction to satisfy his hunger. One of Angel's hands travels to the aperture of your work jumpsuit, straining it inside the clothes. Sliding his middle finger in you, making you growl, he laughs against your lips.

“You fucking liar.” He mutters fingering you faster, with the clear intention to make you scream out his name. “Don't be so fucking proud, mi dulce... Ask me to fuck' ya.”

His orbs are burning with lust, as are yours. You swallow your saliva, with your mouth next to his, looking how much he's enjoying pounding you and adding a second finger.

“Shit, Angel.” You leaned your head back against the door.

“What'? You wanna cum, huh?” He asks playing with your mind, dragging his teeth over your collarbone.

Yes, you want to cum. You need it. His hand are fucking you so hard that you can't fight against your body and every reaction he provokes on it. Devouring his lips desperate, moving your hips above his fingers feeling more needy than ever, while his tongue finds yours pressing it.

“Cum for me, mami... C'mon.” Angel begs with his forehead resting against yours, shaky breath and eyes closed. He really wants it, and you too.

“Harder, papi... Do it harder.”. You ask him, taking it as a command.

His fingers moving deeper, pounding you as hard as you ask 'cause your wishes are an order to the oldest Reyes. Your legs trembling, his darkest gaze on yours and you biting your inner lip. Moaning louder, Angel has to cover your mouth with his free hand, feeling the orgasm running all over your body.

“Oh, god, Angel!” You drown against his palm.

He laughs in silence, sinking his face on your neck, satisfied with the result. You hate him. You hate him so much, and he's gonna pay for it. Three knocks on the door push you two out of your own atmosphere, claiming for your attention.

“This is not what I meant when I said ‘fix him’. Get back to work!” Bishop says between laughters, before walking away from the bathroom.

“I'm gonna fuck you inside your car, when I fix it.”

“You better do, Reyes.”

“Fix your car, or fuck you, mi dulce?”

[prettywordsyouleft]

Yellow Bells

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x reader

Genre: florist au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: this is for the lovely @mrkimyugyeom​ for her birthday today. Thanks to the anon the other day who mentioned the florist! concept, I realised it fits this present for my dear friend perfectly. Thank you for everything you have done for me over the last year, Nora! I’m so grateful for our friendship Xxx

Word count: 2136

“Are you sure you can manage on your own, Yugyeom?”

He nodded, ushering his parents eagerly to the exit of the store. “Mum, I’ve grown up in this shop. I’m pretty sure I know every type of flower in here from your little songs you sing as you care for them. Go, I can handle it for a week.”

“He’s right, darling. The florist will be here when we return from our vacation,” Yugyeom’s father assured, tugging his wife outside. She turned to look forlornly at Yugyeom.

Or, probably the row of baby azaleas behind him.

“Make sure you water-”

“I will and I’ll feed those in the tropical part and check the temperature for the lilies and honestly Mum, I can handle this.”

She reluctantly nodded, stretching to place a kiss on his cheek as she hugged him. He waved his parents off as they drove away for their first vacation alone since he was born over twenty years ago. And as soon as they were out of sight, he stepped back into the house of flora and slumped visibly.

Sure, he wanted his parents to have a good time. And he wasn’t exactly lying; he had spent more time within this florist growing up than in the apartment above it.

But Yugyeom wasn’t born possessing a green thumb like his parents. He was even somewhat affected by pollen and since his mother was deeply attached to her flower children, he had only minded the store a handful of times.

“I can do this,” he reaffirmed, nodding his head and slipping his hands deep within his pockets, eying the succulents’ table carefully. “We’ll do this together, right guys?”

He then grimaced, wondering how his mother could speak so fondly to everything in here without any problem. So, maybe he wouldn’t be singing the bushes down the back to sleep as he locked up later on.

But he’d at least be able to keep the store running for the next five days.

Hopefully.

The first day started well. Yugyeom followed the pages of instructions his mother left behind for him to follow, the step by step guide foolproof. He managed to serve a couple of customers and take an order for next week for an event when his mother would be back to make new intricate arrangements.

But that was where he was failing the most. Staring down at the stack of cut-offs lying on the decorative paper he had chosen, Yugyeom groaned out loud. There was no charm to the arrangement he had made. They all clashed and he knew even he wouldn’t buy this to give to anyone.

“You need a different colour palette to balance out all this pink,” you called and he glanced up, his breath getting caught in his throat.

You smiled politely and pointed to the flowers. “You have pink roses, pink tulips and pink carnations. Monochrome is nice but I think if you changed the carnations for a white, it would make the arrangement more interesting.”

“I can do white,” he slowly replied, soon grinning at you. “Thanks!”

“Anytime. I have an order to pick up under the name Y/N,” you stated and Yugyeom nodded, turning to the computer to look up the details, keeping you in his peripheral as he did so.

You glanced around mindlessly. “Mrs Kim isn’t around?”

“Nope, she’s on vacation this week.”

“Oh so you’re Yugyeom then,” you commented and he stopped looking up your order details, blinking rapidly at the fact that you knew his name. You chuckled. “Your Mum talks about you a lot.”

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t hear her say Yellow bells instead?”

You grinned. “I sense some jealousy here. The plants will be offended.”

“You really do know my mother,” he retorted with a breathy chuckle, hiking his thumb in the direction of the storeroom. “I’ll just get your order.”

He returned with a bag of fertiliser and some seeds, sliding them up onto the top of the free counter space. After ringing up your order and accepting your card, Yugyeom then held onto it a little longer than he should. You eyed his lack of action curiously.

“So white?”

You nodded. “White. Don’t stress too much, someone will buy them.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one jealous of flowers,” he teased when he handed back your card.

“Who knows, if it’s still here tomorrow, I might buy it.”

“You’ll be back tomorrow?”

Shrugging, you reached for your purchases. “Perhaps.”

Yugyeom waited for your return the following day. He had managed to empty out the clearance table to a kind elderly couple, stacked the new batch of supplies that arrived just before lunch and even got a start on another mediocre bouquet of flowers when the jingle of the bell over the door made him look up and find you walking inside. He dropped the roll of ribbon he had been fumbling with and then yelped when it landed on his foot.

You laughed. “And a hello to you as well, Yellow bells.”

“I’m going to regret saying that to you yesterday, aren’t I?” he grumbled, bending down to retrieve the ribbon. When he stood back up, you were holding his first arrangement. Yugyeom sighed. “You don’t have to.”

“Why not? I want to be the first person to have one of Yellow-”

“I swear, Y/N if you keep it up!” he cut in with a hearty laugh, your own soon joining his. When the moment was over, Yugyeom then waved you off. “You can have it.”

“Well, I plan on that.”

“No, I mean, for free.”

You grew curious. “Don’t businesses require financial backing?”

“They also require creativity and some sense of pride in their work. That sad bunch has neither. I can’t expect you to buy it.”

“I will. And I will continue to keep buying them until you have just that!”

“What did you say?”

“Ring it up for me, Yellow bells.”

By the fourth day of your regular appearances to the florist, Yugyeom was certain of two things. One, he really liked you. There was just something about you that captivated him and he wanted to talk to you endlessly. Even if it was all about the species of one plant family, he was certain he would listen to every word you said.

Secondly, he knew his mother was behind all this.

“She told you to come and check on her babies, didn’t she?” he asked pointedly when you appeared, looking rather inconspicuously at the indoor houseplants section.

“Who?”

“My mother,” he said and you smiled. “I knew she didn’t trust me!”

“She does actually, like I said, all she talks about is you, Yellow bells.”

He clamped his eyes closed momentarily to clear out the nickname that he was growing rather attached to and then rounded the counter, coming over to your side. “Then why are you turning up every day?”

“Have you made another arrangement yet?” you wondered and Yugyeom rubbed the back of his neck, nodding shyly. “Where is it?”

“It uh, it sold.”

You almost looked upset. “You’re kidding me! Then you’ve done it!”

“I think the old lady felt sorry for me. Something about going home to pretty it up in one of her fine vases.”

“Well, your colour choices are improving so you never know.”

“What’s the deal about you anyway? You always talk about colour.”

You grinned. “I study colour theory at the local university.”

“Huh.” Yugyeom moved over to look at a baby fern, inspecting its leaves. “You’re majoring in art?”

“Business management. I just take it as an extra paper.”

“What’s the end goal for you then?”

“Really?” you asked, biting at your bottom lip as you grinned. “Is Yellow bells interested in where I end up?”

“I’d laugh if it was a florist.” Your eyes sparkled as your lips twitched and Yugyeom gaped at you. “A florist?!”

“I’ve been helping your mother make changes to the business marketing part of the shop for three months now. So it would be this florist.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“You moved out, remember.”

“You know too much,” he breathed and you nudged him.

“Not everything.”

“Enough,” he lamented and moved back to the counter in a slump. “You’ll come and work for the family and then you’ll not see me for anything more than Yellow bells then.”

“Were you hoping I’d see you for more than that?” you questioned, unable to hide your intrigue.

“I’m glad the old lady bought the bouquet now.”

“You’ll just have to make me another one,” you concluded, heading towards the door. You stepped out, only to stick your head back around the corner. “Make sure it doesn’t sell before I get here again tomorrow.”

Yugyeom was discouraged. With the knowledge that you were being primed to join the family business, he couldn’t see how this would separate him enough from the son of your future employer. He barely said a word to any of the plants as he locked up that night and grunted in greeting the following morning. He only had to get through today. Tomorrow, his parents would be back and he would be able to return to his apartment downtown and forget all about the way you smiled whenever you called him your preferred nickname.

The day felt like it was dragging. He completed all the morning chores, ensuring the plants that needed watering or fed an enrichment mixture had been checked off his list before he approached the arrangement station. Yugyeom had gathered an assorted bunch of flowers earlier in the morning. There was nothing special to them, just cut-offs that didn’t seem to fit in with others. Together, however, they seemed aesthetically pleasing. Choosing to wrap them in simple brown paper to enhance their beauty, he placed the bouquet into the front stand, going back to working on some multi-coloured roses.

The doorbell jingled and he didn’t even look up. He knew it was you.

“Afternoon flower babies,” you called out, sounding just like his mother. He huffed petulantly, trimming off the excess stem of the rose he was readying for the arrangement. You were soon in front of him. But instead of greeting him with his nickname, you didn’t say anything.

Yugyeom looked up to see what was wrong, his eyes narrowing when he found you staring at something in awe. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You made this?”

“Oh them? Yeah, I felt sorry for them since they didn’t match with their other batches so I put them all together. It’s a bit wild, huh?”

“I love it,” you confessed shakily, blinking a few times. You then glanced up at him and he could see how moved you were. “It’s beautiful, Yugyeom.”

He was overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected this reaction to the bouquet, or within himself. Your words bounced around his insides, shooting off spikes of warmth. He was certain he was madly blushing and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh uh, well.”

“I can’t buy this,” you murmured, still clutching the bouquet despite your statement. Your eyes searched his and Yugyeom eventually grinned bashfully.

“Good, I can finally gift you some flowers, Y/N.”

“One of many bunches, I hope.”

“You forget, today’s my last day here.”

You faltered. “You don’t plan to visit?”

“Well, yeah I come and see my parents most weekends.”

“Then you can make me some flowers then.”

“You won’t be here every day, will you?” he wondered, trying not to stare at you too much. He felt there was more to what you were expressing and his palms started to sweat as he thought over what next to say. “You… you wouldn’t come here looking for me, would you?”

“I have every day this week, haven’t I?”

Yugyeom frowned. “That’s because of my mother’s-”

“Actually, she just asked me to come in on Wednesday. I was curious and couldn’t wait until then.”

“Curious about what?”

“You,” you confessed, burying your face into the flowers you held to hide your expression. You then gazed up at him once more at ease. “You’re kind of handsome, Yellow bells.”

He sighed heavily. “It was going so well.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” you mused and Yugyeom laughed.

“I’ll need to come up with a nickname for you then too,” he announced and you tilted your head to the side.

“You seemed so sure we wouldn’t be crossing paths after today.”

He grinned. “Didn’t you say I needed to make more flower arrangements?”

“I did.”

“Well, I’ve got some new ideas. I need to try them out when I come by. Since you’ll be here, after all.”

You seemed to bloom then, brightening up entirely. “Well Yellow bells, I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

_________________

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[stayndays]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟔: Nightfall Comes, Blood Drips Down

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

Blood

Gore

A Knife

Attempted Murder

Foul Language

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you’ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by nine men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

Minho gives you a cold stare as you wave goodbye to him and Chan, making your way to the grand staircase and start climbing it. The formal shoes you’re currently wearing aren't suitable for running up the stairs, so you take your time, counting each of your steps.

You find Jeongin curled up into a ball at the center of the staircase, picking at the skin around his fingernails glumly. Sitting down to the left of him, you lean forward.

“Jeongin, are you okay?” You question with a hushed voice, frowning. You’re still able to hear Hyunjin and Jisung’s ruckus despite the two being in a separate room, and you wonder what exactly they’re plotting with each other, if anything.

Jeongin scoffs, “Why would I be? Everybody in this house thinks I’m crazy because I thought of the possibility of everybody being innocent here. It’s ridiculous.” He turns to look at you, eyes lingering before he sighs. “Why aren’t you with Minho and Jisung? I thought you three had something going on…?”

“Minho and Jisung are paired up together, but I’m not involved with them. I lied to them, saying that I was also on their team, but in actuality, I’m not.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can trust me, Jeongin, and I don’t think a student like you would be such a violent killer.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I feel like you’re the only person I can trust here,” He chuckles sadly, and you follow him loosely. You quickly shut up however, as you see a familiar face approach the two of you.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Minho asks intrusively, standing only a few steps in front of you. “I was just making my way to Hyunjin and Jisung and I saw this. Is something going on?”

“None of your business, Minho…” Jeongin claims stubbornly, and you nod your head in agreement. Minho simply shrugs, not questioning it any further, before continuing up the stairs, careful to avoid you and Jeongin. You don’t think about defending yourself any further.

Jeongin takes in a shaky breath once Minho’s footsteps can’t be heard anymore, clearly contemplating in his mind what his next move will be. You cross your fingers with the hand that Jeongin can’t see, praying that he’d tell you at least a sliver of his thoughts.

“I want to escape.”

It’s not what you’re expecting, clearly. You have to do a double take at him. His face is hardened, looking at you dead in the eye, and he’s gripping his hands tightly. He’s without a doubt serious.

“We’ve already tried escaping though, Jeongin. Who knows if there’s a way to get out of here?” You bite your tongue, pondering on Jeongin’s words. “Escaping is a nice fantasy, though…”

“Then let’s do it, Y/N! The two of us, escaping this mansion,” Jeongin stands up abruptly, catching you off guard. “Maybe we can even pull in one more person. I bet somebody like Hyunjin, maybe even Seungmin, wants to escape too!”

You stand up quickly too, prepared to argue against your new ally. “But, Jeongin, that’s-”

“Who said it was impossible? Just because we can’t pry open the front door doesn’t mean there’s another way to leave this house!” Jeongin waves his hands around excessively, almost shouting at you. To him, there are no flaws in his plan.

“Jeongin, keep it down! The walls are thin in this house,” You try to shush him, which seems to work as Jeongin pulls you close, the right side of his head almost touching yours as he brushes against your ear.

“But please, Y/N, let’s trust each other. I don’t trust anybody in this house other than you, please…” Jeongin begs you. You can feel the desperation in his voice.

The temptation is huge, but with that offer comes many risks. The biggest one, which would be hardest to stomp over, is Minho and Jisung. How would Minho and Jisung react to your betrayal? That is, if you ever let them find out about it.

You place a hand on both sides of Jeongin’s cheek in an attempt to calm him down. However, from the corner of your eye, you see a silver flash about to come right at Jeongin’s head.

Next thing you know, you push Jeongin out of the way and without a second thought, let your hand touch the sudden silver flash instead.

Blood.

A throwing knife. Your right hand. Jeongin’s terrified face.

Blood.

It’s numb. Everything is numb. Your hand, your brain, every atom in your body is numb. And then,

Pain. So much pain.

You shout in agony as you rotate your hand to see the damage caused. The throwing knife pierced through the palm of your hand before you realized it. Jeongin shrieks along with you, backing away and pausing momentarily, before rushing down the flight of stairs in panic.

“Hey! Can somebody help us?! Y/N just got hurt, the killer’s upstairs!” You remain frozen in your spot, just like how you did while watching everybody scramble to exit the mansion, as you hear the confused voices of Chan and Changbin downstairs. They too rush up the stairs, watching your dark, red blood drip down onto the floor. Somebody grabs your shoulder, Chan, you realize, and brings you back to reality.

“What the fuck happened?” Chan demands, and you’re too stunned to form a proper sentence.

“I- I don’t- Wh-”

“Somebody upstairs threw that!” Jeongin shows the two the knife digging into your skin, entering one way and coming out the other.

Changbin looks at Jeongin with cold, narrowed eyes, determining whether he’s lying or not.

“What-” Jeongin notices Changbin’s expression, and you can see anger take over himself. “Changbin. Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me if I would have the courage to EVEN LAY A FINGER ON Y/N! I’M NOT THE KILLER! LET IT GO!” By the end of Jeongin’s rant, Seungmin and Felix have also decided to dash up the stairs, startled at the sight they’re approaching.

“You said from upstairs?” Seungmin raises his hand next to his ear, out of breath. You nod, and just like that, both him and Felix continue further up the stairs, banging on the floor and entering rooms without warning. A screech is heard, and although Chan gazes at your injury with a worried look, he motions for you to follow him and Changbin upstairs.

You’re the last one to make it to the room Hyunjin and Jisung were supposedly in, leaving a trail of blood behind you, barely being able to see the two through the heads blocking your sight. Changbin lets out a gasp, not a surprised one, but instead a furious gasp.

“Minho! I thought you were bringing the will from the guest bedroom downstairs like I asked you to, not talking with Hyunjin and Jisung!” Changbin starts entering the room once he notices that Minho is also with the duo. The rest of you enter, as well.

Minho fishes out the folded piece of paper from his pocket, holding it up with two fingers. “Here, Seo, the will. Now, what’s all the fuss?”

Minho’s lazy posture and tone pisses you off, to the point where you’ve made your way towards the trio with gritted teeth. “Which one of you did this to me?” You raise your hand, absolutely covered with scarlett blood.

“Bloody Hell Y/N, literally! We need to get that out of your hand and patch you up!” Hyunjin fusses with wide eyes, while Jisung turns away from the gorey sight and Minho presses his back against the wall in surprise.

“We’ll do that later. But for now, it’s round two of interrogation,” Felix rolls up his sleeves with a threatening, deep voice. “This isn’t funny anymore, you three. Somebody got seriously hurt because of one of you. And if any of you dare to play with me while I talk to you, I will-” Changbin hushes Felix from speaking any further.

“Should we let Minho go, or investigate him, too? I mean, he wasn’t always up here, so?” Seungmin inquires. You think about why Seungmin, out of all the people in this mansion, would ask such a question.

The voice. It’s back. And it’s telling you no.

“No, don’t,” You interrupt. “You might as well interrogate him as well, since he also went upstairs.”

“Then who’s gonna investigate who?” Chan asks. “Let’s have Y/N and Jeongin separate and choose who they want to interrogate first, since they’re victims and witnesses.”

“You can choose first, Y/N, since you probably got the most information on what exactly happened,” Jeongin scratches the back of his neck.

You exhale as a sharp pain goes through your hand again, almost forgetting that the knife is still there. “But first, can somebody help me out with my bloody ass hand?”

INTERROGATE HYUNJIN, JISUNG, OR MINHO?

[ VOTE HERE. ]

~

CHOICE CHOSEN: Approach Jeongin. (Windflower’s Choice)

VOTING RATIO: 1-1-10-2

QUESTIONS (Comments are not answered)

UWU ANON: Please put all of your comments in the theories box. Because you’ve done this multiple times, your theories will not be answered this chapter.

Response 2: They all met at the party. None of them have met each other before, other than Minho and Seungmin.

Response 7: No, she is not at the party.

Response 13: I cannot say.

Response 14: Yes. Somebody last chapter asked the same question, but I made the mistake of saying “No.” ************ is being framed.

THEORIES (Will be answered with either Yes, No, or Cannot Say)

Response 1: No. No.

Response 2: Yes.

Response 3: No.

Response 8: No. Yes. 

Response 13: No.

Response 14: No. No. No. No.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @poeticallyspaghetti @skzctnightnight @dreamy-dreamies @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @yunhoesss @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb

[a-singleboat]

Just for Laughs

Word Count: 2.7k

Request:  Could you do a Noah fanfic with either the sixth or eighth prompt on Fake Family!? :) - anon

There were three things you knew about living in Los Angeles. The first was to never walk anywhere alone at night. Between the constant tourists and the fact that you were vertically challenged, it was easy for you to get lost in the crowd. The second was to never forget to bring your pepper spray with you--which you had. It was an honest mistake. In between rushing out of the house that morning and spilling lukewarm coffee on yourself, you figured you could allow that one slip up. 

The third thing you knew about living in Los Angeles, however, was that you could always call on your best friend to get you out of a sticky situation if you ever needed. 

So now, at two in the morning, you called him up and explained your situation. After wrapping up the closing shift at the bar, you realized that you had let the time slip away from you yet again. The trains stopped their service at one am, you knew that, but the tourists in the area didn’t. 

“Again,” you said, drawing your black cardigan closer to your body. “I’m really sorry about this, Noah. There were some late customers and Phil had already left for the night so I didn’t really know what to do and by the time I actually managed to kick them out, it was two.”

“It’s fine, Y/n,” he assured you over the phone. You heard the jangling of keys on the other side as a door closed, his car starting up not even a second later. “But you have to make this up to me.”

You shivered slightly in the November chill. While the weather during the day wasn’t terribly cold, the nights could prove hypothermic. 

“Fine,” you said, rubbing your arms to generate what little heat you could. “I’ll do whatever, thank you.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” he promised before hanging up. You slipped your phone back into the small bag you carried and drew your keys. If you didn’t have your pepper spray, you’d at least be able to defend yourself with the semi-sharp pieces of metal. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to stab anyone that night. True to his word, Noah arrived ten minutes later, honking his horn twice. 

You clambered into his car, apologizing and thanking him profusely yet again. He waved you off, signaling to pull away from the curb. 

“It’s really okay, Y/n,” he said, setting off toward your apartment. “Besides, mom would kill me if I just left you to fend for yourself.”

You giggled. Mom. He was of course, referring to his own mother. After yours had died when you were very little, you had bonded with the strange boy that brought you flowers the day after the funeral. And while Denise couldn’t truly replace your own mother, she acted enough like her to gain the title. 

“So you know how I said you’d owe me?” Noah asked, finally pulling into his assigned parking space. 

You nodded. 

“Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re doing recording for a Smosh Pit video next week and Courtney’s bringing her sister and I was thinking…”

“You want me to be your sister for the video as well,” you guessed, getting out of the car. He killed the engine and got out as well, locking the doors before the two of you headed toward the building. 

It was lucky that the two of you had managed to find a place with two vacancies. You were separated only by an older woman named Barbara and her three cats, which neither of you minded considering you were both avid cat people. 

The two of you walked up to your floor, the elevator being out of service for the time being. He told you a little more about the premise of the video, in which you and Courtney’s sister would essentially be going through embarrassing moments and videos of the two from their childhood. 

“So basically I get to make fun of you to your fans while they all think that I’m your biological sister?” you asked, key already in the door. You already knew you were going to say yes, after all, you owed him. You twisted the handle and removed the key, opening the door. “Am I getting paid?”

“Uh, yes,” Noah said. “If you agree to it, Ian, my boss, will send all the information to you and the paperwork and stuff as well.”

You propped the door open with one foot, reaching in slightly to hang your keys on the hook just inside your door. You held your hand out to the man, who gladly shook it. 

“I’ll be there,” you promised, inching into your apartment. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I wish to no longer reek of alcohol.”

Noah laughed. “Yeah, and other things.”

You hit him with your bag, not hard enough to hurt, and laughed as well. 

“Goodnight, Noah,” you said, waving to him.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

A week later and you were really feeling the nerves. You’d gone to the address that Noah had sent you and after a brief reunion with Keith, you were buzzed in and brought up to the studios. There, you said hello to a few people you remembered from an event Noah had hosted in his apartment before being directed to where Noah’s desk sat. 

It wasn’t long before your best friend came and gathered you, wrapping you in his arms and messing with your hair. You swatted at him, telling him to back off before using your phone’s camera to fix the rat’s nest that he had created atop your head. You were’;t really annoyed, having spent no time doing your hair. The most you’d done that day was put a bit of product in to contain the frizz. 

Humidity really was not your friend. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “They’re pretty much ready for us.”

You stood up from his seat, grabbing your phone but leaving your bag. “You never told me exactly what you guys were filming today, Noah. Like, you said it was a Smosh Pit video but didn’t really explain what it was.”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, there was a reason why I told you to bring an extra set of clothes.” 

Right. Last minute that morning, Noah had texted for you to bring an extra set of clothes. Just in case, he had stressed. 

“Basically, it’s like newlyweds but with sisters,” he explained, weaving through various equipment pieces and clothing racks. You’d worked in entertainment before, you know how chaotic behind the scenes could get. This was clean for a production day. “Sarah, one of our producers will ask us questions that we’ll try and answer. If we answer the same, we get a point. If we don’t, we don’t get a point.”

You tried to think back to who Sarah was. You knew Keith and Courtney, two of Noah’s work friends, but knew none of the rest of them. Sarah… She must have been the bubbly half American, half-Korean producer and Social Media manager that appeared in videos from time to time. 

“Seems simple enough,” you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited next to him. You had stopped outside of the studio doors to wait for Courtney and her sister, Kari. Between the two of you, Kari had more Smosh appearances under her belt than you did--not that you had any to begin with. 

It didn’t take long for the sisters to arrive, Courtney greeting you with a massive hug while you and Kari settled for the, “hey, we just met but this is polite,” hug. 

“You never really explained why I needed to bring an extra set of clothes,” you said, poking Noah in the side. They had allowed you into the studio at that point.

“The losing team gets pied,” Courtney supplied, looking at Noah. “Why didn’t you tell your sister that you were getting pied?”

You looked over at Noah with an incredulous look. “Noah! I think that would have been important to know.”

“It just slipped my mind!” he defended himself, laughing as you swatted at him. Neither of you bothered to correct Courtney’s claim that you were siblings. You figured she knew and just referred to what everyone else called you.

You chatted a bit longer, just getting to know each other and get more comfortable with each other when someone came over to attach microphones to your person. You let them do their job, thanking them when they backed away. 

Another woman came over, this time dressed a little more like a show hostess. 

“I’m Sarah,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand for you to shake. You gave her your name, laughing at the comment she made about how you and Noah had different last names. 

“It happens sometimes,” you joked, shrugging your shoulders. You figured that at this point, if they didn’t know you weren’t actually related, you wouldn’t try to correct them. 

Soon enough, filming started and you were handed a whiteboard and a marker, an eraser sitting on the table between you and Noah. You listened as Sarah explained the rules of the game. In order to gain a point, the answers had to be correct, or had to be similar or even the same. If you don’t answer it right, you didn’t get the point. At the end of the game of three rounds, the losing team would be getting pied. 

“First question is for the Grossmans!” Sarah announced, turning slightly so she was facing you and Noah. “What is their star sign?”

You scribbled ‘Aquarius,’ knowing it right off the top of your head. You kept your eyes on your own board, only looking up at Sarah when you were finished. She called time and you both revealed your answers. 

“Aquarius,” Sarah read, looking at your board before moving to Noah’s. She read out your star sign, which you confirmed was correct, gaining the two of your a point. You gave Noah a high five as you went to erase your board. 

The game continued on, you getting almost every question right while Courtney and Kari practically tied you at every question. 

“Okay!” Sarah said, setting her cards down. “Here’s a tie breaker for the two teams. Whoever wins this will not be getting pied and, in fact, will be receiving this ten-dollar gift card to Starbucks that I stole from Matt Raub’s wallet earlier today.”

You laughed at the joke, laughing even harder when Matt Raub himself yelled, “Hey!” and then, “Not sponsored!” from off-stage. 

“Our last question is…” Sarah opened the glued-together piece of paper, reading the question before saying, “What’s a secret that only the two of you know?”

You looked over at Noah, silently asking how that was a question valid to the newlywed game. He just shrugged and picked up his marker, writing down his answer. You picked up your own marker and jotted something down as well. 

A few moments later, Sarah called time and you recapped your marker, setting it down on the table.

“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Since we started with Noah and Y/n last time, we’ll let Courtney and Kari go first this time.”

You watched as Kari turned her board around first, her secret scrawled on the whiteboard. 

“Um,” she said looking down at her answer. “I said a secret that the two of us shared was a time when we were exploring one day and Courtney had dropped her phone over the cliff. We told our dad that she’d actually just dropped it while walking and didn’t tell them about how we scaled the cliff to get it back.”

“No!” Courtney cried, flipping her board. “I said the time when I drove into the fence and you lied and took the blame for it because I didn’t have my license yet!”

All five of you laughed as Courtney told the story, playing up the humor for the cameras. 

“Well, Courtney and Kari,” Sarah said, frowning, “sadly you did not answer this correctly so we’re going to go to Noah and Y/n.” She turned to face the two of you. “Noah, Y/n. If you get this right, you will be crowned the winners. Are you ready?”

You nodded nervously, picking at the corner of the whiteboard. 

“I’m ready,” you affirmed, looking at Noah who replied the same. 

“Okay,” Sarah said, holding a hand out to you. “Y/n, please reveal your answer.”

You flipped the board, letting the cameras and the room read the words written there. 

“What?” Sarah asked in disbelief, reading the board. “Is this real?” 

You laughed. “Yes, this is real. Noah and I aren’t actually siblings.”

Noah turned his board around too, revealing that he had written the same thing. He laughed as Sarah fanned herself, playing up her disbelief for the camera. 

“We always joke we’re siblings, but someone didn’t realize we were joking,” you explained, laughing. You set the whiteboard down on the table. “So we were seeing how far we can carry this out and apparently twenty years is the answer.”

“We would’ve kept it going but we thought you guys had already caught on,” Noah said. “Sarah even made the last name comment earlier.”

“I was joking!” Sarah said, laughing. “I thought Y/n was married or something, I don’t know!”

You shook your head. “Marriage will not be anytime soon, but I appreciate you taking it with stride, Sarah.”

Everyone laughed, Courtney and Noah doing part of the video’s outro before the video cut out so they could rearrange the room so they could pie Courtney and Kari.

“Wait,” Sarah and Courtney stopped you from moving too far away from them. “So Noah and you aren’t really related?”

You laughed. “No, but his mom is basically my mom. We grew up next door to each other and instead of falling madly in love I got a really cool older brother that brings me to his job and gets me into videos.” 

They called for Courtney and Kari to stand on the tarp in the middle of the room, setting up the pies on the table in front of them. You met back with Noah, who had disappeared to use the bathroom, and linked arms with him, standing to the side. 

“Can I just say, I am so glad we’re not the ones getting pied today,” you joked, watching as Courtney and Kari were given ponchos that would try to save their outfits. 

“Same here,” Noah said, grinning as Courtney looked upset as she slipped the plastic poncho over her head. 

When they were finally set, Sarah waved Noah and you back onto the set. She handed each of you a pie, positioning you both in front of the sisters. 

You were paired with Courtney while Noah was put in front of Kari, pies at the ready. You listened as they did a mass countdown, squeaking out an, “I’m so sorry,” before pushing the pie into Courtney’s face. You held it there for a moment, moving it back and forth before letting it fall off her face. 

It splattered onto the floor, getting a bit on your shoes. You kicked the pie away from yourself, laughing as Courtney tasted a bit of the whipped cream. 

“This is really good,” she joked, scraping a bit off her cheek and sucking her finger into her mouth. 

You helped her clean the pie off her shoulders while Noah pied Kari, both of you laughing when the entirety of the pie somehow fell out of the platter and over Kari’s shoulders. 

“Thank you for watching!” Noah said, still laughing as he tried to clean some of the pie off Kari’s shoulders. “You can find Kari on Instagram at Karimiller and you can find Y/n at [instagram handle]!” 

“Thank you guys for coming and hanging out with us!” Courtney said, reaching over to hug her sister. Noah grabbed you in for a hug as well, waving at the camera as Matt Raub yelled, “cut!”

[asokatanos]

do you have any fic recs for the mentalist?

I told you I’d post some for you tonight and here they are!! Unfortunately I did a lot of reading while I was still obstinately REFUSING to make another ffnet account, so I didn’t save like a good 90% of what I read, some of which was excellent. But here are some of the ones I did +fav or whatever they call it there. No particular genre since your ask was open ended, but, well-

(sorry in advance - these are mostly ffnet links but they’re worth braving that site I swear)

((also this is definitely a non-exhaustive list. there’s some real talent in this fandom))

Consummate Connection Confrontation - these are three separate fics in that order by the absolutely inimitable @hardlyloquatious. Literally everything they’ve written is amazing. I’ve completely exposed myself because my first rec is sort of. uh, lightly 18+. But I had to put this author at the top of my list because I love them so much. The way Jane talks in Consummate has literally kept me awake more than once. It’s honestly more sweet and touching than anything but it’s definitely uh. not something your boss should catch you with I guess.

Long Lost, Long Last - same author. This was written and posted before My Blue Heaven aired, but it has the same vibe as that episode, except deliciously drawn out. It starts off with Jane being his kinda silly self and deciding he wants to try his hand at letter writing, so he writes little notes for the whole team. Lisbon is the only one who gives him a note back, and they take to leaving each other lil notes - until RJ is killed and Jane disappears to do some soul searching. This fic is so... beautiful and I think about it with some frequency. “Consummate” is hot but Long Lost Long Last is why HL is my fave TM author.

Practice - okay one last one from this author. This one isn’t like, groundbreaking, but it’s just the SWEETEST look at how much Jane tries after they get together. I’m a sucker for Jane being sweet. Clearly, since that’s why Consummate is at the top of this list.

Blood Red Moon - the author is 221b Baker Street. Their fics are a LOT more heavy. But they’re so, so good. Their mastery of language is incredible and their fics read like professionally written books - and they do Jane/Lisbon banter incredibly well. Some of the imagery they use has genuinely stuck with me. Also see Sacraments in Scarlet (Jane pretends to be a priest), Arsenic and Red Lace (murder at an assisted care facility and Jane being the cheery and extremely sad bastard that he is), Jonathon Redding (a take on Red John that is deeply clever), a Road lEss traveleD (this is. unsettling. it’s extremely good but save it for the last from this author, wait until you love them first. The payoff for not-as-it-seems comes towards the end but it really is worth waiting for).

Blood Wind - by Gone2Far speaking of unsettling. THIS ONE. God this fic is so good. Spooky as fuck in a way that’s a little X-Filesy and incredibly well written. I want to live very far from this fic while at the same time wrapping myself in its words so I can borrow a crumb of talent.

In Case series - @halfagonyandhope (yay, they’re on tumblr). This rec list isn’t necessarily in any sort of order because after HL, halfagonyandhope is second fave author. This particular series is SO ROMANTIC and LOVELY and I kinda wanna cry kinda wanna read it again and again. My favorite one in the series is Ya’aburnee but you have to read the ones preceding it to make any sort of sense. Also now that I’m looking at all of these again I’m realizing that apparently the second installment stuck with me more than I expected because I wrote more than 10k words of something that has a vaguely similar theme (which I will post later). 

Qumran and Reset - by J. Roddam. This author only ever seems to have written these two but they’re fucking EXQUISITE. I generally avoid AUs in this fandom because the concept of erasing Jane’s past does NOT sit right with me but Reset is one of the only exceptions I’ve made. It has soulmate vibes without being like, a tumblr soulmate story. Both of them are living SUCH different lives than their canon counterparts but somehow it actually works and it’s beautiful. Qumran is similarly without peer.

Pretending, I: Witness - @inkstainedfingers97. I wouldn’t even know where to start but I love every single thing about this fic - and it’s recently been completed! I was lucky enough to get to binge read a majority of it but waiting for updates was also genuinely thrilling too. Fake/Real Married for WITSEC reasons, real love for obvious reasons. Also the Lorelei dynamic is way more intense than on the show in a way that’s at once very uncomfortable and very believable.

27 Minutes - by Idan. Okay. Okay so this author commented on one of my fics and I almost lost it because I really love theirs. I was smiling for like an hour when I saw the notification from them!! 27 Min is my favorite one but In The Cards is widely rec’d by others for very good reason, it’s so good. The Pretender is also excellent, written based on promos of Orange Blossom Ice Cream and so a bit AU from there.

Eighteen Hours - I would definitely be remiss if I didn’t mention @leafenclaw (and actually, I was remiss because I realized while making this post that theirs were some of those early fics I read that I never +fave etc, so ty for the ask so I can do it now, anon). Leafenclaw writes SO well and I have an extra soft spot for them because they pointed me in the direction of a lot of fics and were one of the first ppl I ever spoke with in this fandom since luckily they’re on tumblr too. Also Kindred (note - both of these are still WIP but being updated/worked on!) Chasing Storms is complete, incredible, angsty, beautiful. Also I kind of want to borrow the idea of writing one story around a set of many prompts like this. I don’t actually think I’ve ever seen anyone else do that?

The Long Way Back - by LouiseKurylo I consider them sort of a friend because they’ve been SO supportive while I was writing  Saving Grace but even before that with a new suit, another pair of socks, and a terrible couch. And I’ve seen them supporting everybody else too - they’re just SO NICE. Their fics are also very interesting, and they sort of bring Jane and Lisbon much more into the real world. There’s more real life problems to go hand in hand with mentalist plot type problems, which makes for very interesting reading. Fischer in this particular fic is FASCINATING. Also, a hot tip @leafenclaw shared with me: Louise’s faves list has 500 stories in it and pretty much everything in there is worth reading.

Last but OBVIOUSLY not least I wanna mention some of the very cute and talented and actively posting people here on tumblr in our little mentalist squad of approximately 12 people lmao. You probably already know @gracevanpelt aka LilyThistle’s Big Blue, Red Road, Breathe, and Collusion. I have an especially soft spot for Breathe actually even though it’s the least plotty of the lot. I just think it works so perfectly on its own, as is, like a quiet little interlude. No muss no fuss as Jane would say - and I love it a lot. @asambergs aka cmbing’s how glad i am that you exist is actually the FIRST piece of Mentalist fic I ever read, and then I was pulled down this slippery slope to end up posting this at 11:52 pm on a Thursday night. And I’m not about to forget @pjane aka epaynter whose words are so beautifully atmospheric and who writes the softest Jane (I love Soft Jane and will fight anyone who disagrees about it!!)

Aaaand a nice and shameless self plug in the form of ao3 links: Come Fly With Me (this is the softest thing I’ve ever written), Saving Grace (an actual, complete, fully plotted fic. 14 year old me is SHAKING), a new suit, a terrible couch, another pair of socks (this last was inspired by @asambergs fics actually, and was the first thing I wrote in this fandom!)

[siriusmuch]

years | lily evans

pairing: lily evans x reader ; sirius black x reader

warnings: angst. lots and lots of angst.

word count: about 4k, my longest story yet!

summary: requested by anon — prompt #91 (in the background, the music plays, a sad tune, full of wistful piano and haunting violin. there is nobody left to hear it.) from this list. you loved a lot of people, but you loved lily evans like you did no other.

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope you like this, i hate writing things with no happy endings but i couldn’t resist. there’s not going to be a part two for this, sorry! there is a part with sirius x reader in this, although it’s not the main ship. you’ll understand as you read on :) sorry that the ending is a bit rushed :(

masterlist here

-

1971.

In your first year of Hogwarts, you remember everything about your first day vividly. Your parents sent you off with a sad farewell, and you promised to write to them often. They shed a few tears, and you almost missed the train by how long your hugs with them were. They peppered your face in kisses, your mother holding onto your father’s chest as you waved goodbye to them the final time. You knew it was extreme, but you were 11, and you were going to Hogwarts.

You’ve been waiting for this day your entire life.

Your parents were the sweetest people you knew. Your birth parents had fallen ill with the Dragon Pox when you were five, and you were constantly around caretakers until they had passed. You didn’t remember them to the extent you would’ve liked. You were put up for adoption, and your parents — who were also wizards — welcomed you into the family without ever looking back.

You were exposed to tragedy early in your life, but that never stopped you.

You ended up sharing a train car with two other girls your age, although the three of you didn’t end up becoming very good friends. Excitement and jitters filled your conversations, although you were all sorted into different houses.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, you were in awe. You’d heard stories about the beauty of Hogwarts, with their floating candles to the castle-like interior. You’d ever tried reading Hogwarts: A History, although you got bored quickly and opted to play quidditch in your backyard instead.

When your name was finally called, you took a seat and the Sorting Hat was placed upon your head. You beamed, although your leg shook with how nervous you were. Both your birth parents were Gryffindors, although your adoptive parents were Hufflepuffs. You didn’t mind getting sorted in either house.

‘Oh, a (Y/L/N)?’ The Sorting Hat hummed, and you nodded. Although you were adopted, your last name never changed. You appreciated that your parents never did so, because even though you didn’t consider your birth parents mom and dad, at least you had a piece of them with you. ‘Your parents were the greatest Gryffindors I’ve seen, although you have a heart of pure gold. The way your heart swells when you think of your parents show me your Hufflepuff heart. You’d do well in either of those houses.’

You beamed, nerves quickly washing away. You had grown up with Hufflepuff ideals, so you weren’t surprised that you were considered for Hufflepuff. ‘But… I think you’d do better as a Gryffindor. You have great things ahead of you, (Y/N). So…’

Your eyebrows furrowed at what the Sorting Hat meant by “great things”, but before you could ask — think? — the Sorting Hat yelled, “Gryffindor!”

Moving off the seat, you walked towards the Gryffindor table, sitting in the closest empty seat you could find. As more people got sorted, you turned to the girl next to you, a red-head with stunning green eyes, and introduced yourself.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” You smiled, not knowing what was in store for you for the next ten years.

-

1972.

By the time second year rolled around, you had befriended the infamous Marauders. You weren’t necessarily as close to them as you were to Lily, but you found them funny. Except when James was asking out Lily — you always found yourself in a sour mood, although you had no clue why. You had came to the conclusion that you were just possessive of her friendship, since you had never been to close to someone else who wasn’t your parents to this extent.

You listened to Lily complain about the Marauders a fair extent. Remus was occasionally included in the complaints as well, although he usually got away with more things than the others did. You hung around Snape as well, although he never seemed too keen to talk to you. He seemed to tolerate you best when you were with Lily as well, although you always joked that being around Lily seemed to bring out your best qualities.

“What does Evans see in Snivellus?” James moaned again, putting his head down onto his textbook before peeking up at you.

“They’ve been friends since before Hogwarts, you know. You can’t separate them that easily, it’d be like if Lily constantly told you that you shouldn’t be friends with Sirius because he’s a Black.” You shrugged.

You and James had this conversation quite a few times. Lily didn’t necessarily approve of your friendship with him, but it didn’t stop you. Especially when you knew that James was a softie behind his egotistic exterior. You tried telling Lily this, although James always seemed to embarrass himself with Lily was around.

“But the point is that Sirius isn’t like his family. Snape fits in with those Slytherins, stupid pureblooded maniacs.”

“Snape isn’t even a pureblood,” you commented, “plus, not all Slytherins are bad. This is why Lily doesn’t want to be friends with you, much less your girlfriend.” You ruffled James’ hair, feeling a bit sick at the thought of Lily being James’ girlfriend.

You didn’t even believe in cooties anymore, and romance was cute. You had no idea why the idea of James and Lily made you feel so… sad. Shaking the thought off, you stood up.

“I should get going, I told Lily that I’ll join her and Snape to study potions. I’ll catch you later, James.” You smiled at him, taking your books and swiftly leaving.

-

1973.

By the time you were in your third year of Hogwarts, the mood shifted. No one was oblivious to this, but some people pretended they weren’t aware. Life became more intense, more stressful — there was a war building outside of the school, and fights broke out more often.

You made sure to accompany Lily everywhere.

You knew that Lily knew what you were doing, and you knew that she was a little annoyed by it. After all, she was independent and a brilliant witch, and more than capable of taking care of herself. But you were scared anyway. Scared for yourself and scared for her and anyone who wasn’t pureblooded.

But you tried carrying on with life as normally as possible, despite the fact that you subscribed to The Daily Prophet and read it every morning as opposed to just hearing news from your parents. You even wrote to them more than normal, and they sent you care packages about once a month. You didn’t need it, but you appreciated stuff from home. It made you feel safer, and you always made sure to share anything you got with Lily. You even tried out for the Quidditch team, having missed out last year. You ended up being their seeker, and you took pride in how happy everyone was in you. Especially how happy Lily was. You knew she was fascinated with Quidditch, despite being terrible at flying.

You grew even closer to James after you got on the Quidditch team, but a part of you always felt sad when you were around him. You still had no clue why, and it only intensified whenever Lily was brought up or associated, and you tried steering clear from the topic as much as possible without seeming suspicious.

There was a part of you that was confused, though. James and Sirius started hanging out at the library, and you didn’t know why. There were no pranks that happened, but they could be seen reading and researching something throughout the year. Peter joined them, although it was normal to see him in the library as well. Sometimes Remus was around, but mostly he was working on his own schoolwork. Whenever he was with the Marauders while they were off researching, he always seemed a bit nervous and exasperated at the same time.

You wondered, but you knew you wouldn’t get an answer.

-

1974.

“Don’t you find it odd that James, Sirius, and Peter always look so tired the day after Remus is out sick or his mother is sick? It’s like when he’s away, they go wild.” You brought up to Lily one day.

Lily shrugged, “They’re always a bit weird, though? They keep so many secrets… I would’ve expected them to be blabbermouths, but they never share any of their secrets. Haven’t you noticed that whenever someone is in trouble they end up at the scene?”

“It is odd… I don’t think I’d ever be able to understand boys,” you joked. Lily rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her face.

The two of you sat in silence at the Great Hall, watching James, Sirius, and Peter’s sluggish movements. A bit later, Remus came to join them, looking just as tired as they did. You exchanged a look with Lily.

Once again, you found yourself hopefully lost in Lily’s eyes. They’re always so vibrant, and you hated when they dulled just the tiniest bit whenever something happened with her sister. You wished you could take all her pain away, to always be there to pick her up no matter what happens. It pained you to be in a state where you couldn’t do anything to help.

“Earth to (Y/N)?” Lily snapped her fingers in front of your face, causing you to blink. “You’re staring again. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, a familiar flush creeping up on your face. You had the littlest of ideas why you kept on staring at her, but you didn’t want to feel this. Not towards Lily, at least. Not towards your best friend, who you could easily lose by admitting these feelings.

Fourth year was the year you started getting suspicious of the Marauders, realized your tiny crush on Lily Evans, and came out to your parents through a letter.

-

1975.

Fifth year was the year you became best friends with Sirius Black.

You had no idea why Sirius had started avoiding the Marauders, nor why they were so aggressive towards him. The entire group was tense, and from what you’ve been told, you knew that Sirius did a terrible prank that was unforgivable. You knew that James was upset that you were hanging out with Sirius, but you had came to the realization that Sirius was rather… lonely, at least without the Marauders around.

There were always rumors circulating at Hogwarts, but as you talked to Sirius, you realized that it wasn’t as true as it seemed.

The two of you were currently out after curfew, hanging out in the astronomy tower. You were smoking a cigarette that he’d passed you, and you just stared up at the ceiling.

“You’re in love with Evans, aren’t you?” Sirius interrupted your silence.

You turned to face him, your eyebrows furrowing. You could feel a sick feeling starting to build in your stomach. No one knew this, even though you had came out to your parents as attracted to both boys and girls.

“Why do you say that?” You hesitantly asked.

“You’re always staring at her. You always perk up when she’s mentioned, not to mention you always get moody every time James talks about liking her. You glare at any people who try and ask her out on dates. Only an idiot wouldn’t know.” Sirius turned to face you.

“Merlin, is it that obvious?” You groaned, “Yeah, I figured out that I liked her last year. But I don’t even know if she likes girls like that. Not many people are accepting, you know? I don’t even know if you are.”

“It’d be ironic if I didn’t accept it. I’m in love with Remus.”

“You are?” You blinked, jaw dropping a bit. You didn’t know if anyone else in Hogwarts was like you, but here Sirius was. “Do you just like guys or…?”

“I don’t know yet. I think both, kissing girls is nice, but with Remus…”

“With him, it’s different.” You finished his sentence.

-

1976.

In sixth year, you hung around Lily a lot more. She was still struggling after what Snape had said to her, and you once again wished that you could take away her pain. She was suffering, and you didn’t know what to do to help her.

You had asked James for a passageway out to Hogsmeade, and you snuck her out despite her poor protests. The two of you drank butterbeer while you let her cry (for the final time, she swore) on your shoulder. Eventually, her tears faded out and all there was was anger. Anger for not realizing just how much Snape had changed, anger for being so dumb, and anger that Snape was becoming just the type of person who wanted her dead.

Sixth year was also the year where James and Lily started becoming friends. It didn’t happen immediately, and they still argued. Their differences continued being highlighted, but as James helped Lily loosen up, Lily was able to reign James in a considerable amount. At this point, you knew that it was inevitable that they were going to date. You felt jealous, but you still suffered in silence. Instead, you started spending more time with Sirius.

It was nice to see everyone in semi-good spirits, though. Especially when the air at Hogwarts started becoming increasingly tense. The Marauders had made up, and although Snape tried to grovel at Lily’s feet and beg for her friendship, things were as good as they could be.

Life went on.

Before the end of sixth year, Sirius pulled you aside.

“I have a question to ask you,” Sirius started. You raised an eyebrow, telling him to go on. “We’re both in love with people who… to put it frankly, won’t love us back. Do you want to go on a date? We deserve better than to pine for people who won’t feel the same.”

You were shocked at the question. You didn’t know what to say, because you’ve always been turning down dates. But you knew that Sirius had a point. “I… Yeah, let’s do it. Next Hogsmeade weekend?” You asked.

And so, you and Sirius started dating. Congratulations started pouring from everyone you knew, and you were sad to see Lily be so utterly happy for the two of you.

-

1977.

Your seventh year at Hogwarts was a weird combination of things. For one thing, you didn’t really expect James to become head boy, but you weren’t surprised that before the new year started that he and Lily started going out.

Your heart still hurt every time you saw the two of them together. They were happy in their own world, light pecks all the time, and you missed Lily a lot more now that she didn’t even sleep in the girls dormitory. You cursed whoever made the heads their own quarters instead of them sleeping with the rest of the year.

You were still dating Sirius too, despite the fact that both of you were still pining over people who wouldn’t love you back. You guys were as happy as you could be, given your position. Whenever the other felt too sad, there would be ice cream and cuddles. You guys kissed, but you knew that there was a low chance that it’d ever get further than that. Both of you knew that this relationship was just a distraction from your true feelings.

At the first quidditch match of the year, right after you had caught the snitch, someone had cursed your broom and you fell right out of the sky. You were in the hospital wing for three days, with a terrible concussion and too many of your bones broken, but you lived. You never found out who cursed your broom, but everyone was on their toes for the next few days. You knew that Sirius and James blamed the Slytherins, and a part of you agreed. After all, there were some Slytherins who made it obvious that they supported Voldemort.

This was also the year where you and Lily were filled in on Remus’ condition. Lily confessed that she already knew that Remus was a werewolf, although never knew why the other boys were always so tired. After reassuring Remus that neither of you were going to stop being friends with him, you begged Sirius to turn into his dog form for cuddles.

Things were as good as they could be.

-

1978.

You broke up with Sirius before the school year ended. The two of you knew it was coming, and it was always a question of who would ask first. The Marauders seemed upset with you at first for “breaking Sirius’ heart”, although Sirius constantly reprimanded them for it. You were still good friends, and you both were more physical with each other than regular friends, but it was nice.

The day you graduated, you cried. A lot of people did, so you weren’t alone, but you knew that this would be the last time you’d be in Hogwarts as a student. You probably would go see Dumbledore a few times in Hogwarts, especially after being recruited for the Order of the Phoenix like your other friends were.

That summer, in the mail, you received invitations to Lily and James’ wedding. You already knew that they were getting married, but this just solidified the fact. Sirius came over that day, and you cried, not that you’d ever admit that to anyone else other than him.

You attended the wedding with Sirius as your +1, although he was invited too. You knew all of your friends were a bit confused about where you and Sirius stood, but you never really gave them an explanation.

Before the end of the year, Remus was sent out to talk to other werewolves to try and recruit them for the war. This time, you went over to Sirius’ place to try and relieve some of the anxiety he felt. You were anxious too — even though you weren’t as close to Remus as you were to Sirius, you knew it was a risk. Everything all your friends did was a risk, and you were constantly worried for them.

-

1979.

Your arm burnt with the Dark Mark.

You were sent to infiltrate the Death Eaters by Dumbledore. The only person who knew of your mission was Sirius, and you feared the day that you’d end up having to fight against your friends as a supposed Death Eater.

You weren’t a hateful person, but every time you insulted muggleborns or said anything even related to pureblood supremacy, you wanted nothing but to hate Dumbledore. You were resilient, and a good witch, and your acting skills were top notch after hiding your feelings for Lily for so long.

Your life was constantly at risk, and you wrote letters to all of your friends explaining everything in case you died. You were building up rank in the group, and eventually, you would be one of Voldemort’s most trusted members. You filled him with lies about who was fighting against him, never actually giving up anyone who was in the Order. You had learnt occlumency so you weren’t as vulnerable.

You barely saw any of your friends that year. You had moved houses when you were assigned to the job. Sirius informed you that he suspected that there was a spy in the Order, and you told him you’d keep an eye out in case there was someone in the Death Eater meetings that you recognized.

“I think… it may be Remus.” He admitted sadly that same day.

“Remus? Our Remus? He’s loyal beyond everything.” You protested. “We already know what mission he’s doing, and I would suspect Remus the least out of almost everyone.”

“But isn’t that the point? He’s been alone his whole life, hating himself for being a werewolf. Suddenly, he’s with other werewolves, and he feels like he belongs. We never see him, and all Dumbledore and Moody say is that they’ve been in touch.” Sirius shoved his face in his hands, sighing. “This war is a bloody mess.”

You shook your head, “I don’t think Remus is the type to submit to his urges so easily. You’ve met the man, Sirius.” You leaned your head against Sirius’ shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in two months, Sirius. Between Remus and I, I’d be more suspicious. I bet some of the other members already are. All they know is that I’m on an important mission and I can’t see anyone. Suspecting each other will just bring our downfall.”

Sirius grew quiet. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). Some people do suspect you, but to be fair, you haven’t been to an official Order meeting in months. I haven’t even seen you for the longest time. Only Moody, Dumbledore, and I know what you’re doing. I wish I could tell them so that they don’t think that way anymore, but I can’t.”

“I hate this so much. Merlin, I need a drink.”

-

1980.

Between pretending to be a Death Eater, working for the Order and gathering intel, and then finding out about the prophecy and how Lily and James were expecting a child, you were running yourself thin. You were utterly exhausted at this point, and all you wanted was a break. Somewhere where this war didn’t exist.

You still hated yourself for loving Lily to this extent. Hated that you still couldn’t let her go, and hated that she probably thought you were leaking information to the Death Eaters.

A part of you wished that you told Lily of your feelings for her while you were still in Hogwarts. Before everything in the world became reality for all of you. You felt stupid for thinking this way, but you ultimately wished things were just different.

War really was draining.

-

October 31st, 1981.

The morning of October 31st, 1981, you were called to a Death Eater meeting. There, Voldemort and a few of his trusted members were waiting for your arrival. There, you saw a man you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Peter Pettigrew.

Did you two get sent on the same mission by the Order? You masked your expression of confusion, looking at him and the fear evident in his face. You wondered why they would send Peter, of all people. You adored Peter, he was like a little brother to you, although you knew how easily he scared when he was on his own.

“Good morning,” Voldemort started speaking, “For the past year, (Y/L/N) has been telling us insider information about the people fighting against us.” You forced a smile on your face, ignoring Peter’s heavy stare. All the information was fake and staged, although Peter couldn’t possibly know that unless he was informed you were on this mission and you weren’t.

“But, a week ago, Pettigrew was able to tell us the location of the Potters.” Your eyes widened just a tiny bit, “They had tried using a Fidelius charm so that only a trusted person would know where they were, and I’ve been planning on taking down their child in this time. As you all know, the boy who was born in July is the one who is supposedly going to destroy me. I cannot allow that to happen, and Pettigrew supplied me with the information I need while the baby is at its most vulnerable.”

You willed yourself not to react until the meeting was over. The moment you were allowed to go, you left as quickly as possible, avoiding Peter. Casting a patronus charm, you sent out a message to Lily.

“Lily, I was on a mission to infiltrate the Death Eaters and Pet…”

Before you could finish your sentence, you were out.

That night, in Godric’s Hollow, a motorcycle revs as it leaves the vicinity. In the background, the music plays, a sad tune, full of wistful piano and haunting violin. There is nobody left to hear it.

[steves-on-a-plane]

You Go Left, and I’ll Go Right.

Words: 2069  Pairing: Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader Timeline: Between Force Awakens & Rise Of Skywalker Request: “I have a idea where Jedi!reader and Poe are married but while on a mission together they got ambushed and separated. Poe thought the reader died, cause he found her light saber on the ground. But the first order took the reader. A few weeks later Poe got captured and he saw her in the cell . And when Rey and Finn came to rescue him, they rescued the reader as well.” -Anon Summary: Poe and his wife Jedi!Reader are on a mission for Leia to bring back the location of children taken by the First Order. They decide to split up and that’s when things go wrong. 

“Well what’s the plan now?” Poe huffed as the two of you came to a fork in the corridors of a First Order battlecruiser. Leia had sent the two of you on a quiet reconnaissance mission to obtain some much needed data about where the First Order kept the children they stole. The Resistance was planning on extracting and rescuing as many kids as possible. Luckily it wasn’t Kylo Ren’s ship so there was no danger of running into him. It was supposed to be a moderately risky but doable endeavor.

“I don’t know.” You whispered back at your husband. “You’re the hot shot Commander remember?”

“Very funny.” He chuckled quietly. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Jedi?” He nodded at the lightsaber dangling from a clip on your hip. “Maybe we split up?” He suggested. “It might be harder for them to track us back to our ship that way.”

“Okay.” You agreed with a nod. Poe’s strategies were usually solid. You had no reason to doubt him. “You go left, I go right?”

“And in case I don’t make it back home for dinner tonight…” He smirked before planting a kiss on your cheek. It was a strange little song and dance that the two of you always did before splitting up. Finn always teased you both for being sickeningly sweet, but neither of you minded.

You and Poe stole on last look at each other before splitting up. You darted down the hall to the right and he slowly advanced down the hall to the left. It didn’t take very long for Poe to realize the twist of corridors he was following wasn’t going to lead anywhere near the ship you’d arrived on. So, he decided to double back and see if you’d had any luck on your side. Moving as quietly as a person in clunky pilots’ boots could, he edge further and further down the corridor with his blaster drawn.

He stopped briefly to inspect a scorch mark in the floor. The grate beneath his boot looked like it had been cut clean but hastily, like by a lightsaber. Poe crouched down, it looked like someone had tried to peel the flooring back. Maybe you’d done more than try. With as much might as he could manage, Poe peeled the grate back along the edges that had been cut. Under the makeshift hatch he saw something that made his heart stop. A lightsaber. Not just any saber either, the very same one he’d watched you take hours to forge. Something wasn’t right.

What would cause you to leave your lightsaber behind? Poe scooped up the saber and tucked it inside his jacket. He felt the cold metal press against his skin as he smoothed the grated flooring back down. The lightsaber had been a message, he was sure of it. No Stormtrooper would have been able to spot the singe in the grate through their clunky helmet and you wouldn’t have left your saber behind unless you thought you’d run out of options. Unless you’d been captured or worse. He couldn’t bring himself to think about the worst, not yet. Picking up his blaster again, Poe forged on, wondering what could have happened to you.

“You there!” For a second time Poe thought his heart had stopped. He’d thought the corridor to his right was clear, but it seemed he’d been noticed by a pair of troopers.

“Oh hey, guys I was just, ah, admiring this ship of yours here.” He commented casually as he turned to face the troopers. “You know I’m a pilot myself and…”

“Not another move!” More troopers had arrived in front and behind him. Poe was surrounded. “Drop the blaster.” There’d be no fighting his way out of this, not without you. He was a good shot, but not that good.

“Alright, ya caught me.” He moved slowly and dropped his blaster to the floor. He kicked it forward to the nearest trooper. He hoped that if he cooperated with them, they wouldn’t search him and find your saber.

Surprisingly, it worked. He allowed the troopers to drag him off to the brig. He was careful not to mention you or the intended mission in case you hadn’t been found out yet. Though the odds of that seemed increasingly unlikely. The battlecruiser’s brig was empty except for Poe and his captors. He debated igniting the saber there and cutting the two troopers down, but he wasn’t sure he could do it before they drew a blaster and he definitely couldn’t deflect blaster bolts like a jedi could. The troopers tossed Poe into an empty cell and clomped away.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Poe fished your lightsaber out of his jacket and held it in one hand. He flicked the switch to ignite the lightsaber. The saber hissed and sparked in his hand but didn’t ignite. “Oh come on!” Poe gripped the saber in both hands and tried to copy a stance he’d seen you use before. He flicked the switch again, but again the saber didn’t ignite.

“So [Y/N] ditched the saber because it was broken.” He sighed. He wondered what could have happened to break the saber. It looked just fine on the outside. At least as far as he could tell. Just the same, Poe tucked the saber away again for safe keeping. “Well now what’s your plan Commander?” He sighed to himself as he looked at the bars of his cell.

A week past and Poe was no closer to escaping than he had been the first night. The brig around him remained empty which gave Poe little hope that you were alive. He laid in the cold steel rack that was poor excuse for a bed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d really mucked things up this time. He kept his strength up, because he knew that’s what you’d tell him to do. He ate what little food the troopers offered him and slept when he could. When he couldn’t he thought about you.

He thought of the way your face contorted into a little scowl when you were upset and how when he first met you he couldn’t believe someone so cute could be such a fierce warrior. He thought about how you always looked over your shoulder on missions to make sure the party was still together. He thought about how he always felt three steps behind whenever you were leading the charge. It was easier to think of you this way, with a scowl on you face swinging your saber because if he thought of you, his wife, and all the parts of you that only he got to see, he may damn well lose his mind.

He knew that you’d both been gone long enough that Leia would send someone to look for you. She’d send Finn and Chewy and Rey if they could spare her. They’d do anything to get you back, Jedi’s were in short supply these days. He knew that Leia valued him too. You’d reminded him of this on several occasions, but he always thought of you first because you were his number one priority. Everything he did, he did for you. While he laid on his cold steel rack that night he thought of something Leia had told him once. Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.

There was a commotion outside of his cell for the first time since he’d been captured. Hopeful but not wanting to draw the attention of the troopers, he craned his neck and squinted through the bars of his cell. There were two troopers dragging along a much weaker and tired frame with them. It was you. Poe felt as if he couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t muster enough strength to move  your head let alone see him. There was a hard thud as the troopers tossed you into the cell next to him before stomping off again.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]? Can you hear me?” He called through a slit in the wall. The wall between you was mostly solid, but there were slits here and there cut along the sheet of metal. Not big enough to pass objects through, but enough to carry sound.

“Poe?” You whispered back softly. It sounded like it took all of your strength to manage just his name.

“Yeah baby, I’m here. I’m right here.” He called through the wall.

“Rey’s coming. She told me.” You muttered. Poe knew that you meant that Rey told you she’d be coming through the force.

“Okay that’s great, Baby!” He smiled, despite the current situation. You always said you could tell from the tone of his voice if he was smiling. “So, all we gotta do is wait. They’ll be here for us soon. Just rest, okay?”

Another two days past before there was activity in the brig again. Poe heard at least two pairs of loud footsteps charging into the brig. This time he decided to crawl himself off his sorry excuse for a bed and press his face against the bars of his cell. From there he got a perfect view of his favorite Wookie, former Stormtrooper and second favorite Jedi entering the brig.

“Chewie, Finn, Rey!” He shouted, glad to see his friends again. They all turned in his direction, each of them looking as thrilled to see him as he was for them.

“I can open that cell, it’s just going to take a minute.” Finn said. He turned to an access panel and began typing in the cell overlock sequence.

“Poe, where is Master Dameron?” Rey asked, her voice laced with worry. “When I talked to her last…”

“She’s alright!” Poe assured her. “She’s right here next to me.” Poe nodded to the cell next door. “I don’t think she can walk though. Chewbacca happily volunteered to carry you as Finn managed to pop open the doors of every cell in the bring.

“We have to get to the Falcon before they catch up with us.” Rey insisted.

It was a harrowing escape that left nearly everyone out of breath, but thanks to the stars or the Force everyone made it safely back to the Millennium Falcon. Chewie gently laid you in the pilot’s relief bunk before jumping into the co-pilot seat. He and Rey skillfully avoided the First Order’s assault and the Falcon had mad the jump to lightspeed as soon as possible.

You were tired. More tired than you ever remembered being in your life. Your body was begging you to close your eyes and allow the darkness surrounding you to swallow you up. But one look over at your husband, and you knew better. He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. He held one of your hands in his and was stroking your hair and mumbling what sounded like an apology. You wanted to speak, to tell him none of it was his fault, but you were too weak. The best you could manage was a gentle squeeze of his hand.

“Our course looks clear from here.” Rey announced, stepping out of the cockpit. “Do you have any idea what happened to her?” She asked.

“No.” Poe sighed, looking away from you for the first time. “I’m never seen her look this weak, so I can only assume they tortured her. I’m sure it didn’t help that her lightsaber stopped working.” Poe handed Rey your lightsaber so she could inspect it for herself.

“Poe,” She said after only looking at the saber for a minute. “The saber didn’t break. At least not accidentally. Look here, the power’s been severed.” Rey turned the hilt so that Poe could see what she’d found. “And it’s rattling? Maybe the Kyber Crystal’s come loose?”

Rey placed the saber on top of the Dejarik board in the center of the room and reached for one of Han’s old screwdrivers. Using the screwdriver she popped open the compartment that housed the Kyber Crystal. When she managed to wrestle the compartment open, Rey couldn’t hold back her smile. She wedged something out of the saber and held it out for the others to see.

“It’s the data we were looking for.” Rey explained. “[Y/N] hid it in her lightsaber because she knew you’d find it. That’s brilliant.”