#snitches get snippets

[theresthesnitch]

Sometimes, I start writing a scene and realize it doesn't fit the way I want it to. Rather than deleting, I just put a bit of space between that scene and where I'm writing, and I try again.

This scene is one of those. I opened this doc after about a year of not touching it, and then found this scene at the bottom. It's not even remotely in the fic anymore, so have some nice Godfather Padfoot.

---

Sirius floos to Potter Manor the moment he gets back home. He arrives in the middle of dinnertime.

“Padfoot! Tell Dad that I don’t have to eat peas. You don’t eat peas!” 

Sirius immediately looks from Harry to James, who shakes his head minutely from side to side. Sirius turns back to Harry with a smile. “That’s not true, Hazza. I always eat my peas. They’re delicious.” 

“No, you don’t,” Harry says, crossing his arm over his chest. “You drop them on the floor and let Padfoot eat them.” 

Sirius walks over and musses Harry’s hair. “Padfoot is still me, kiddo. I eat what he eats.” 

“You have to eat your peas, Harry. That’s not optional.” Lily makes a grumpy face at Harry, who makes an imitation of the same face back. “Come on, eat your peas. I think your godfather needs to steal Dad away for a bit.” 

Founders bless Lily and her perceptiveness, Sirius thinks. James stands up from the table. “Come on, Pads. Let’s go to the back garden.” 

“Can Padfoot read me a bedtime story though?” Harry says, looking at his godfather with pleading eyes. “Please, Padfoot? Will you?”

“I’m not sure.” Sirius squats next to his chair. “I’ve got a lot to talk to your dad about right now, and you might be asleep before we’re done. How about I promise I’ll come back another night and do your whole bedtime?”

Harry perks up at this. “Bathtime too? With Padfoot?”

Sirius can’t help but smile at his eagerness. “Alright. Bathtime with Padfoot as well.” He ruffles Harry’s hair again. “But only if you eat your peas.” 

Harry groans, but he picks up his spoon.

[theresthesnitch]

“Absolutely not.” Remus takes a big swig of his drink before pointing the tip of the bottle her way. “But you can help me with something. Help me decide which one of them to break it off with.”

this week's word is...

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Snitches Get Stitches- Part 2

Part 1

Hero didn’t know when they had fallen asleep, only that the sound of the door opening woke them up. The last person they wanted to see entered the room.

“Hero!” Villain exclaimed, “you poor thing, who did this to you?”

Hero glared, trying to sit up.

“You know full well who- ah!”

Villain had crossed the room and roughly shoved Hero back down. They tutted.

“Medic said you shouldn’t exert yourself so much,” Villain cooed, “bad things could happen.”

“Nothing worse than you,” Hero spat weakly, but fear shone in their eyes.

“Hm,” Villain hummed, “you seem to think I did this horrible thing. Those meds must be pretty strong.”

Villain leaned over Hero, their fingers lightly tracing their wound. Hero fought back a whimper.

“Because the way it really happened,” Villain said softly, “was that some low-life vigilante did this, and left you for dead.”

Villain dug their fingers into their wound. Hero cried out in pain. They heard the stitches pop open and felt warm, sticky redness trickle out onto their skin.

“Oh dear, you were so traumatized by it all, that you aggravated your injury,” Villain said in mock sympathy, “I guess we better get Medic. They won’t be happy with you, Hero.”

Villain straightened up, heading for the door.

“Don’t forget to tell them about that vigilante,” Villain said, “we wouldn’t want you to suffer further.”

Villain left, locking the door behind them. Hero’s side was pulsing, and their head swam with a myriad of different thoughts. Their breathing came in short and fast, and the only thing louder than the sound of their heartbeat pounding in their ears was the heartrate monitor that picked it up. Hurried footsteps thundered outside, getting closer by the second. Hero had to make a decision fast. Do they tell them the fabrication Villain wanted them to give, or do they tell the truth and risk not being believed and then promptly being maimed by Villain? Supervillain entered the room, followed by the rest of their team. As Henchman gasped and Medic rushed to redo their stitches, Hero wondered which instinct was going to win.

Part 3

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @bluesoulpeace @altvaggie

[seleneprince]

Snippet of my Neglected! Family x Yandere! Batfam au (I really need to find a name for this au already)

Wife! Darling has known of the Batcave's existence for years already, and so do her children.

She found out by pure accident. Her oldest daughter was doing her usual computer stuff she didn't understand, and said she found a weird signal coming from under the manor, in the underground...only they didn't know there was anything down there, not even a basement. Alfred never mentioned it.

The girl went to check, tracing the mysterious signal with her phone, and found a hidden compartment behind the pendulum clock. Before her mother could tell her to stop, she went down there.

Cue to Wife! Darling following her daughter to make sure she didn't get in trouble or hurt herself, because who knew if Batman even bothered with basic security measures for his vigilante stuff. From what she's seen of him as Bruce Wayne, she doubted it.

And that's how they found the Batcave. By the time Alfred found out and met them there, the daughter had already tinkered with half the equipment and replicated part of the Batcomputer's code in her tablet for fun, while her mother explored the whole place with a critical eye. Alfred expected them to be angry, to ask a lot of questions, but instead:

Wife! Darling!: "Who takes care of this place?"

Alfred: "Mostly me, Mistress (Name)."

Wife! Darling squinted her eyes, gaze darkening: "Just you? Does no one help you?"

Alfred: "It's part of my job, Mistress (Name). Don't worry, I can handle it perfectly well on my own."

She scoffed. "Well, this has to change. You're just one man, Alfred, and you're not getting younger with the years. The fact that they let you do so much already by yourself is infuriating, and you also have to clean after their crime-fighting bullshit? The nerve. I'll take care of this from now on"

Alfred blinked: "Mistress (Name), I can't possibly ask you that. You already help me more than enough around the house-"

Wife! Darling: "Nonsense, Alfred. You do way too much already. At this rate, it'll only affect your health for worse. I live here too now, so technically it's also my responsibility."

And that's how she ends up handling the maintenance of the Batcave along with Alfred, even taking over his tasks entirely. She starts off with the excuse of helping him, which it's true, but eventually she always takes care everything so the man has no option but rest.

And because she's such a perfectionist, she doesn't spare any efforts in the task. Cleans all the surfaces, fixes the suits, rearranges the weapons after cleaning them and creates a system to organize their gadgets so they're much easier to find. Even the Batmobile is left spotless, inside and outside. She goes as far to feed some of the bats casually roaming around the edges of the cave.

(And if her kids had naps inside the batmobile sometimes when they were down there, only she and Alfred are witnesses. Well, the bats too, but they're not snitching)

This way she takes some work off Alfred's shoulders. She finds it enraging that a man his age has such a heavy load of work with little to no help, so she takes over some of the house chores for him so he can have breaks. Plus, it helps her unwind and relax a bit from her usually stress-fuelled life.

She also begins to leave snarky notes about the shameful state of their gear when she finds it in particularly bad shape. And feels even worse that Alfred has had to take care of all of this at his age until she came.

"This blade is duller than your sense of self-awareness. Fix it"

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up"

"If you die in this crusty suit, I’m not cleaning your corpse"

"Are you fighting villains or rolling in garbage?"

Seriously, the richest man in Gotham can't even afford a bit more of staff? But of course, she reminds herself he's the same man who forgot to use protection when fucking a random woman, so she shouldn't expect too much from him.

To avoid uncomfortable encounters, she specifically schedules her cleaning times for when the whole team is out, so she can work peacefully without being having to be in the same room as them. So far, it goes well. Alfred even warns her when they're coming back, and the Batcave is actually a pretty nice place to enjoy time for yourself when it's empty. Just the beeping of the computers as background noise, or her children messing around when they go down there to do their things.

It becomes part of her routine, one she even looks forward too during the day. Until one day.

The Batcave has been left spotless, as usual. Weapons polished. Suits lined up by height and damage level. Even the Batmobile has that new-car shimmer. It smells faintly of citrus-scented cleaning spray and frustration. There are also four sticky notes scattered across the table already, complaining about the state of their things again.

She is crouched near the weapon rack, holding the Batman suit with one gloved hand and a lint roller in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended her.

She mutters under her breath in Spanish, something about how "ni siquiera una máquina de coser podría salvar este desastre de traje, Dios mío." (Not even a sewing machine could save this disaster of a suit, my godness)

She’s in sweats, hair tied back in a messy bun. An apron over her tank top that says "KISS THE COOK (or don’t, I’ll stab you)". She's so deep in the cleaning zone she doesn’t hear the footsteps.

"Well, this is a surprise. I could get used to this."

Her entire body freezes. It feels like her blood turned ice in her veins instantly with the voice. That irritating, familiar voice.

Her head turns slowly, and there he is. Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Her husband in paper, father of her first child, owner of this cave, and responsible for half of the stress she deals with.

She could be annoyed or even embarrassed that he caught her like this, handling his suit no less. But instead, her mind is focused on what he said, and the tone in which he said it.

She arches a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, clearly taking note of her work there. His eyes drifting to the Batmobile, the weapons, all she's taken care of already.

Bruce: "Me, coming back from work to find you cleaning my stuff. It’s so… domestic. It’s almost like we’re a married couple."

There’s a beat. A dangerous silence.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. Processing the fact that he really said that. Out loud. To her. And in a completely serious tone.

Then he looks at her, and she notices the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Oh, that filthy little-

Her eye twitches.

Wife! Darling: "...........Oh, absolutely."

WHACK.

She chucks a batarang at his head with a speed and accuracy that would’ve made Deadshot whistle. He barely ducks, and it slams into the metal behind him with a THUNK so loud the Batcomputer flinches and some bats burst out from their spots.

Bruce: "That could’ve taken my eye out."

Wife! Darling:"I was hoping so."

He stares at her, and then shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. A chuckle. Since when is this man capable of that? Before she gets her answer, he pulls out the batarang with ease and places it back on the rack (Good, she would've murdered him for real if he left it anywhere else).

Bruce: "I meant it. I think I like this sight of you. Suits you well. You look like the ideal housewife."

Without looking, she reaches for another batarang and throws it at him. This time, he catches it mid-air, cool as ever, before setting it down on the table like he isn’t one second away from getting stabbed.

Bruce: "Was that really necessary?"

Wife! Darling: "It was either that or shoot you. You're lucky I'm generous today."

He watches her, barely concealing his amusement now, but there’s something else in his expression too, something he's never had when looking at her: Curiosity.

She doesn't like it.

Unbothered, as if he didn't just activate her kill switch, he starts to walk to the table and peels off one of the sticky notes, reading it aloud with a deadpan tone.

"Blood is not a fashion statement. Grow up."

Bruce: "You know I beat the shit out of people in this suit, right?"

She replies without sparing him a glance, wiping down a grappling gun with unholy aggression: "Yeah? Well, do it without staining it with their blood. You look like Gotham’s dirtiest raccoon."

He leans against the Batcomputer, arms folded. "How long have you been doing this, exactly?"

She scoffs, going back to adjusting the suit like she isn’t being interrogated. "Long enough to know that you leave your weapons in a shameful state. Honestly, it’s a miracle your stupid gadgets still function. Do you ever bother to maintain your own things, or do you just throw them around and hope Alfred fixes it?"

He watches her for a moment longer before finally speaking.

"And you’re doing this because...?"

"Because unlike some people in this godforsaken house, I actually care when an old man is running himself ragged taking care of things that none of you seem to appreciate."

Bruce pauses. He glances at the Batmobile, cleaner than it’s ever been. At his weapons, neatly arranged, polished, functional.

At the post-it notes stuck to the Batcomputer, scrawled in Rosa’s angry handwriting.

He actually huffs a quiet laugh. Again. It's unsettling her.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, "Besides, if you die because your equipment fails, it’s only a matter of time before you try to drag me into this circus. And I refuse to wear spandex."

He raises an eyebrow. "You’d look good in spandex."

Silence.

She throws the batarang at him again. This time, it actually clips his shoulder.

"Go get that treated before you stain anything, or I'll wipe the floors next with your face."

.......................

...........

Suddenly, Bruce starts to "casually" come to the cave early more often.

Now she has to adjust her schedule AGAIN to avoid him. And in the meantime, her children start betting on how many batarangs it takes before Bruce gets critically injured. Or dead.

[desipotterhead18]

Hello Hinny Shippers

Here are my favorite hinny fic recs

[PART 2 ]

Post-DH

1)A new beginning by @startanewdream Summary: Harry and Ginny in the aftermath of the battle, getting back together and deciding to live. Nine pieces following them through May to September of 1998.

2)Private by @thedistantdusk Summary: But it’s part of the job, Ginny reminds herself. She must sit through six of these interviews per year. She must be generally pleasant and polite. She must represent her team well. And above all else, she must not lose her temper. Right.

3)Out of the Mouths of Babes by The_Clockwork_Monk Chapters: 7/7 Summary: Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

4)chinwag by gryffindormischief, fightfortherightsofhouseelves Summary: Harry can't resist a challenge when he's presented with one.

5)gone was any trace of you by @annerbhpnnerb Summary: An accident at work left Harry with a mysterious case of amnesia and a wife he couldn’t remember.ever, neither can Ginny, you see.

6)you don't have to stay by Annerb Summary: They still refer to her as ‘Harry Potter’s girl’ sometimes. Eleven-year-old her would be ecstatic. Twenty-one-year-old her is far less enthused.

7)I'm not on drugs, I'm just in love by Annerb Summary: Wherein Ron is an irredeemable sap, Harry isn’t much better, and Bill is so Over It all (but secretly pleased). Or how Ron’s stag do goes the way most things do when Harry Potter is involved—a quick spiral into violence and heartwarming disaster.

8)One Perfect Day by @pottermum Summary: Harry has the most perfect day.

9)Lost in Japan by lostonplatform934 Chapters: 3/3 Summary: Two weeks, six days, three hours and 42 minutes. That was how long it had been since Harry Potter had seen Ginny Weasley. And the lack of Ginny was thoroughly driving Harry mad. But he's a couple hundred miles from Japan, and he's thinking he could fly to her hotel tonight, 'cause he can't get Ginny off his mind.

10)There's The Silver Lining I've Been Looking For (1991 words) by @justalittleconfusing Summary: Harry's 34th birthday carries more significance than another year around the sun. Ginny is on a mission to figure out why he is being so shifty at his birthday dinner at the Burrow.

11)Teething Problems by pottermum Summary: Sisters! Who Needs Them?

12)Drunk in Love by FloreatCastellum Summary: Harry should have known better than to let George Weasley get him drunk.

13)22 by FloreatCastellum Summary: 'I’m older than my parents now. They were 21 when they died.’

14)The Fairground by FloreatCastellum Summary: In which the Weasleys and Potters attend the local funfair and James Sirius Potter hustles for candy floss.

15)new name by @always_hinny Summary: ginny dealing with having a new name

ff.net

1)Won A Day In The Life  by pottermum

2)wonderfulness What-it's a word, Ginny said so! by pottermum

3) Miss Butter Elbows by JohnMcHacker

Drabbles , Snippets , series

1)Catch Her Snitch! by pottermum Chapters: 102/? 2)Several Sunlit Days: Ginniversary Bingo by @starlingflight Chapters: 19/19 3)Freshly pickled microfic by @ginnyw-potter Chapters: 28/?

One-shots with variable timeline

1)loml by StarlingFlight Summary: One accronym. Two lives. Nine different meanings. Written for corneliaavenue's TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

2)A new beginning by Startanewdream Summary: Harry and Ginny in the aftermath of the battle, getting back together and deciding to live. Nine pieces following them through May to September of 1998.

ff.net

2) The Path to Harry by CharmHazel

3) The Path to Ginny  by CharmHazel

AUs

1)Gin Fizz by Startanewdream Chapters: 2/3 Summary: Ginny doesn't want any trouble. Harry is running away from his. So this is your classic one-night stand.

2)The Hook Up by pottermum Chapters: 5/5, Muggle AU Summary: It's been eight months since Ginny broke up with her cheating ex when she received an invitation to his sister's wedding. She accepts for two reasons, to show her ex just what he's missing out on by looking fabulous, and to hook up. And then she met Harry. Muggle AU

3)Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day? by balmiki Chapters: 2/2 Summary: Prompt - Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day? Ginny goes to pick up a drunk Harry ( AU - they didn't date in Hogwarts).

4)Imposter by @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey Summary: “I’m Harry Potter, nice to meet you.” Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath, not believing her ears. If there was one thing Ginny would recognize everywhere, it would be Harry’s voice. That man wasn’t Harry. And he had the audacity to use Harry’s name to woo a girl in hope to bring her home tonight.

5)Señorita by @celtics534 Summary: Before he even knew her name, he felt the fire between them. One look at those brown eyes and he was hooked this red-haired señorita

6)confessions should be better planned by @takeariskao3 Summary: Harry accidentally submits the wrong photo for his digital photography elective… shenanigans ensue… (best read on a phone, but if reading on the computer, the formatting should translate easy enough)

7)Sorry, Wrong Number! by pottermum Chapters: 5/? Summary: Dialling one wrong digit changed Harry Potter's life forever because sometimes, making a mistake can lead to bigger and better things. This is one of them.

8)Light beam by Startanewdream Chapters: 2/2 Summary: ‘Dad, hypothetically… what would you have done if Mum was Sirius’ sister?’  

[winnies-one-super-crazy-project]

made another shitty little drawing, this time with a shitty little snippet to go with it! 👍

~

“I’m not telling him, Maui.”

Another pointed meow. Grian groaned, exclaiming, “You know why! I know when I get visions, you and cat Pearl can see them too. You’re just trying to be difficult.”

The next noise sounded like a disappointed hiss. Mumbo moved a bit closer, turning the corner to see Grian and Maui, face to face since Maui was sitting on a shelf, actively arguing, though Mumbo had no idea how Grian could understand the cat.

“Don’t give me attitude, young man! I’ll send you off with the Pearls for the week,” Grian threatened.

Maui huffed before seeming to spot Mumbo spying on them, immediately booking it towards him.

Grian jumped, turning just in time to see Maui pointedly meow at the man who’d been eavesdropping.

He went pale, the constellations on his hat shifting once again. When Mumbo just seemed confused, he asked hesitantly, “Hey, you… can’t understand him, right?”

“...no? Why would I be able to understand a cat?” Mumbo asked in confusion.

Grian smirked victoriously as Maui deflated, promptly scooping the cat up and looking him in the eyes as he hummed, “That’s what you get for trying to be a snitch, Maui.”

Maui hissed again, and Grian scowled at him, huffing, “That’s it, you’re going with Pearl.”

The cat in his arms meowed, but Grian exclaimed, “Nope! You lost your chance! Come on.”

He turned, apologizing, “Sorry about him, Mumbo. He won’t bother you again.”

The blond promptly set off, and Mumbo tried to gather his bearings.

He had no idea why on earth the sight of his crush arguing with a cat had been so cute.

[artificiallita]

i got bit by the butch wolverine bug and trust me im in lov w her BUT have we considered futch deadpool???

(headcanons and upcoming fic snippets under the cut)

working on a big silly fanfic about this hot mess boinking logan in the odyssey. here’s some headcanons while the story finishes cooking.

- so. kept her first name as wade. i’ve seen a few alt names floating around for f!deadpool (big love for the winnies, winonas, and wandas of the ladypool extended universe) but genderfuck ‘not rlly a name’ just fits my vision for her. her parents were weird idk.

- deadpool is a woman in all variants except one in my personal headcanon. he is called dudepool. also her corresponding nicepool is male gaze-ified pre-mutation wade. she’s bleach blonde and her suit has a titty window.

- ex special forces turned mercenary whose life shit the bed when she was diagnosed with cancer. tried to be proactive about it long enough to get a mastectomy, then found out said cancer was pretty much everywhere else, and we know the story from there. since this predates her healing factor, she’s permanently single-boobed. has padding in her suit to even her out since it doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, wears big t-shirts and ignores it in her civilian life.

- bisexual disaster zone. spent many years in a very happy and deeply perverted relationship with a male stripper named van carlysle, until that went down the toilet. a solid 70% of the casual sex she has is with women.

- dresses like the shitshow nightmare we know and love, loves an awful t shirt and a pair of crocs. put little to no effort into her appearance pre-mutation and that hasn’t really changed, had a brief phase of screwing around with makeup and wigs and then decided it was basically - to use a line of internal monologue from the pending fic - rolling a turd in glitter.

- speaking of, has a real complex about the changes to the way people perceive her post-mutation, namely that they seem to find her super fucking irritating and odd in a way that they very much Didn’t when she was still conventionally hot. between her military background and the general company she keeps, she’s quite often the only woman in her circles, and has always been a dysfunctional mess of adhd and unfiltered word-vomit, but that was generally read as mpdg ‘cool girl’ behaviour prior to her transformation, and now people seem to just think she’s a lunatic. less ‘oh god im hideous’, although she *absolutely* has those moments too, more ‘oh god everyone i know has thought i was a weird pain in the ass this entire time and only tolerated me because they wanted to fuck me’

- wears a lot of poorly applied eyeliner and purposely sleeps in it because she thinks it looks cool. it does not.

- had absolutely zero plans to snitch to cassandra about johnny’s rant, right up until the ‘bald hell’ line. she took that shit personally (almost definitely didn’t need to but whatever. i support women’s wrongs.)

and some snippets from the fic, all of which are me wade objectifying logan. technically spoilers but also what else did anyone expect

[court-jobi]

The Bet (Hawks' Version)

((Banner by me!! I don't own Horikoshi's works/characters))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 7k //good grief//

Rating: M | 18+ (put down the spicy chicken bucket, baby birds)

Warnings: NSFW, foreplay confessions, DTR, first time, piv smut, porn w feelings, flirting, kissing galore, biting & marking, vocal Hawks is vocal, wrap it up this is fantasy

Summary:

You turn the tables on Hawks' games -the ones he insists are crafted with you alone in mind. You've benefited from his tokens and gestures for long enough, and plan one of your own. You'd think he'd be happier to see you strut around in it once you're home and 'Keigo' can enjoy it all to himself… but once your heels come off in the doorway of your apartment, he makes one thing clear: he'd rather take it off. He’d damn near tear it off you with the promise to buy you a dozen dresses just like it, if you didn’t make such a sweet appeal to 'get comfortable' together~

A/N: as promised, part 2 has arrived!! Missed Part 1? Not required, but makes it a bit sweeter, IMO, so catch up if you'd like~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Three months since your shopping excursion, you turned the tables on Hawks and placed a one-sided bet yourself. It was a harmless game, just as his had been from the start. 

You’d watched him pace on the edge of a building by happenstance, noting how he walked the teetery edge like a tightrope against the harsh wind. He's incredibly athletic -that point, you never doubted- but surely he couldn't make it clear across the edge without tripping off to the side… 

His wings would pitch in at any sign of a fall, but you made the sneaky bet that even their offset couldn’t keep him upright the whole way.

…but he did~ graceful and with a little personal stroke of pride as he batted his feathers back onto the roof of the building when he reached the rain gutter at the end. So cute, he even marked himself ‘safe’ like in baseball as he accomplished his goal while waiting for his intern to arrive. 

From the ground below, you couldn't believe how such a man had caught your eye- one as  flashy as he was. Normally you'd have veered far away from big personalities like that… but look at this kid, here. 

He's taking names of bad guys across the country and raking in hundreds of thousands of dollars in promotional money alone (much of it funneling secretly to charities, you came to learn), but here he is entertaining himself: like the child he is at heart. 

… That little show earned Keigo a text. 

From your cell, you sent a far off video snippet of your dashing Pro-Hero traipsing around, with the overlaid caption: 

You win, pretty bird ♥️ Made it across, and didn't tip over once! Still want that dinner?

Just your luck, Hawks pulled out his phone in real time after you sent the message. 

He's swiping, he's shielding it against the glare of the sun to read, and– yup, now he's jumping. And hollering for the whole wide world to hear, if they were only paying attention to the punk on the roof across the street. 

You giggled to yourself, shaking your head. What were you gonna do with him?

That question was easy to answer; you know exactly what you'd be doing and wearing. 

Hawks will be granted his wish after losing that first bet after all, with you completing the perfect night out in that stunning red dress. 

Sake-soaked words, a lovely meal, and a thousand endearing stares later, you two are seated on the way back to your place courtesy one of Hawks’ longtime drivers employed from his agency- where he could unabashedly makeout with you in the backseat. He's come through with enough personal favors with the hero to take him on harmless outings without snitching: movies, the rare sportsball game… dates, you ask him, but Hawks assures you this is the first time fairer company has joined him for a ride.

Mindful as you are, you’re careful not to make too much noise, though Hawks says his valet hates him just as much as yours does. 

‘Some people just don’t see the appeal, and can't handle me~’ he’ll goad, but you still make a pitiful attempt to make him behave in mixed company. 

Hard to do, when you're backed up against the seat of the car with an adoring angel of a man testing the limits of his seatbelt to a ridiculous degree-all for the simple plea to hold you closer: 

How he can't wait another minute. How good you look. How really good you look. 

It doesn’t help the Hero’s impatience when you’ve draped your legs across his lap, exposing the thigh where your dress cuts open. Hawks has a handful of it the entire way home, content to massage and fondle any inch of you he can get. 

After several months of teasing that this thing has been in the back of your closet, you'd think he'd be happier to see you strut around in it… but once your heels come off in the doorway of your apartment, Hawks makes it clear: he'd rather take it off. He’d damn near tear it off you with the promise to buy you a dozen dresses just like it, if you didn’t make such a sweet appeal to dress down and get comfortable together~ 

Obviously, Hawks sees no need for wearing night clothes to bed with what you tease in his ear. Though you laugh nervously about that very fact the whole way to your bedroom, to your walk-in closet where he unzips you fully: and to now as you’re slung over his shoulder wrapped up like a cigar in the towels you’d grabbed for your inevitable shower together... 

You wonder what he'd done that for when you just planned to toss them into your ensuite bathroom– only to realize he wanted to unwrap you himself. He’s in full playtime mode, and that makes you hysterical as he whistles along to your bedroom despite your squirming. 

"Keigo!!" you mind your volume a second too late, muting your giggles, "Keigo, what in the hell do you think you're up to?"

"Getting you to bed-- what's it look like I'm doing?" your Pro-Hero rumbles as he drops you gracelessly on the mattress. Off-hours Keigo was fun- and a welcome sight after his long-awaited return from Tokyo. 

No longer the apartment he simply drops you off after nights like this spent out on the town: he spends a few nights a week here. The home where he can snuggle in and shut out the roar of nightlife more than his solo apartment. 

Though till now, you’ve not traipsed this close to the edge of the intimate boundary.

You scramble for the sheet’s edge, still minding your tucked towels as much as you can before Hawks’ impatience gets the best of him.

"It's freezing though; get in if you wanna mess around!" 

Rolling a little eye, Hawks rests back on his heels where he’s perched on the mattress, and  makes a small, swift flare of one wing with a few feathers shooting out, and the flames on your small portable fireplace rekindle themselves with a feather’s arrow-straight press. Your head shoots to the noise and light suddenly casts the warm, flickering glow on his skin and yours.

Bright eyes look up at him, impressed by his little trick,

"Woah! Is that new??" 

"New to you. I try not to show off everything my feathers can do to the fans right away. Gotta leave ‘em wanting more."

You collect your hair above the pillow and flop back alluringly, having forgotten for a moment altogether his glory is on display just a foot away from you laid hidden by a quickly slipping towel around his waist, too.

"Uh-huh, smart move,” you admire Hawks in both the professional and personal sense, “So I've earned that distinct honor, have I?"

"Oh, you? You're gonna get more from me than basic Pro-Hero tricks, lovedove." Hawks kneed off the bed to come around to your open swath of blankets, “You have somethin’ of mine that no one else on this earth has...”

You open the covers dressed only in a waiting smile, having shucked the towel off in your settling in, allowing Hawks to take his time joining you into your makeshift nest. Soon he’s ditched his towel as well, favoring the covers. 

You’ve laid like this before, with him propping an arm above you, and your joint expressions glazed over while soaking in the sight of each other… 

…but like a warning memory flashed before his eyes unseen, Hawks paused; he’s brushing your cheek with utter fondness, yet his smile drops from his face. Like he did before he left town on that mission over a long week ago.

Naturally, you picked up on it. You always did.

"Uh-oh." you coo lightly, "Where'd you go, ‘Number Two’?"

He couldn't say right away, but his brow furrows at being caught. His hand pets firmly along your jaw to ground himself. Careful, reverent, his roughened fingers brush along your face’s comforting fullness, studying you - in no other words- adoringly.

"Nowhere pleasant. Not like here."

"Then come back here." you whisper and lean up to catch a kiss. 

You kiss a few times in quick succession, Hawks sighing into each one heavily; for the first time, feeling at home in who knows how long. 

“I just love it here,” Hawks whispers to you in such close proximity, “Wish I could be here more often. Was hoping this ‘villain boom’ woulda died down by now… work myself out of a job, be able to spend more nights like this…”

Cupping his face and guiding his forehead to yours, you offer a word up to him softly: to will away the furrowed lines hardening his face.

He’s far more serene in private than he is out in the public eye. ‘Hawks’ can act devil-may-care as a comforting, assuring tool in interviews as it boosts his ratings- but you hope for real peace for ‘Keigo’ when he can go home at night.

"Y'know you don't need to be 'big bad Pro-Hero' here. I know I joke all the time, but.. You are Keigo to me, now-- not the famed ‘Hawks’, not the Winged Hero, or some fanciful title the people carry on about in the streets."

Hawks gave pause, sinking into your touch.

"Those names, it’s part of you, yeah- but you know holding your own with a blade in each hand isn't what deems you perfect in my eyes. If I’m honest, your realness does. Your openness does. The care you give me? Everytime I ask, and you answer me? The aches you’ve told me about that no one else hears, because they aren’t the prettiest…” 

Hawks’ gold chain around his catches your attention. Well, his now- but it was originally yours. 

It’s a small token you’d given him after your first accidental late night sleepover together, because he loved how thin and subtle it was, shining on your jewelry tree. Loves shiny things: just like the pretty bird you are, you’d teased him- but it was a darling reaction from him. So you gifted it away, without a second thought.

It’s those moments that you catalog as reasons to fall for this boy again and again- even months after you know you know he’s got you locked in.

“The imperfectness: it’s untouched– and it’s the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen, when you let me in. When you be yourself.”

His pretty eyes soften, hedging back ever so much in surprise. Crimson feathers plum behind him in interest. 

“It’s heavy, isn’t it,” you look up to the top of his wings unfurling above you, reaching high from the space between his shoulder blades where they stem from; where you hold him tenderly. “I can see that.”

By the look of emotion growing in his eyes, you know you're the only one who sees how heavily life can weigh on him.

“And I know- I know someday,” light tints your voice, trying to offer the same treatment he gives you, “you’ll believe me when I say I will never once slight you for things you choose to share to me- even if they’re out of my depth. Even if you think it's too much for me. You can be anything you want to be with me, tell me anything. This... is what I'll be here for. No sugar-coating. No pity. I’m just here, Keigo."

And if his smitten heart wasn't mush before, it is now. 

Hawks's voice sinks like gravel, "How the hell do you hit the nail on the head, dove…"

"I try- though I do try to save my best lines for you~" you added a hint of playfulness.

He kisses your smug look away, right on the nose.

Hawks’ wings cast a shadow over you as they flare up more when he leans.

"That’s why they pay you the big bucks, isn’t it… You're incredible, lovedove."

"So are you."

With a released hum, Hawks grumbles a little, sinking his head into the pillow beside you, sliding down in the covers to drape a heavy arm over your waist. Some heat has died down from his body -but you feel the tone has shifted past a hot pre-shower makeout to something way more intimate.

Watching him lie here, content on his stomach with his wings at their fullest all the way outstretched, you respect this as a gorgeous, vulnerable state. 

"I don't– wanna sound crass about this..." Hawks mumbles half into his arm.

You look over at the fire over his shoulder. Reining in a snide remark about the definition of the word, 

"Mm, well I am naked in bed with you, having stripped the second you offered to in my closet- into which I fell almost flat on my ass getting in, by the way–the opposite of grace and charm befitting a lady fair as humanly possible. So if you're worried about decorum? You really don't have to hold your tongue with me, Kei."

Hawks laughs with that bright, shallow sound again that shows his full smile.

"Well! Truth it is, then." 

Hawks freed his chest with some honesty. 

"..I've.. I’ve been dreaming about waking up next to you like this since before I made that stupid race bet. It's– kinda what gets me up in the morning."

You balk at the confession. The calendar in your head backtracks that first shopping trip: more than three months ago. He’s spent dozens of nights in your bed since then, and never once made a move like this.

Three months of waiting out a fantasy to become reality- and now he finally has it fulfilled: nestled beneath him in ivory sheets, stripped of the dress that brought you into his arms in the first place, and still hesitates. You couldn’t believe it.

"Are you serious??"

"Yes?”  Hawks answers, almost pained.

"Oh my God!!" you cry out at the ceiling before tucking yourself in your blankets and turning to him fully, "You have the restraint of a eunuch, Kei!"

He swipes a palm down his face.

"Don't get religious on me. Nothing pure about having a hard-on everytime you so much as fix your hair up with a fuckin’ pen. Forget it when you use one of my feathers."

You giggle wildly again. This does little to spare his sheepish embarassent and hides his face with a retracted wing.

"It's not funny, birdie..." the wing speaks.

"No- no, I guess it's not," you try audibly straightening up, running the backs of a few fingers to pet the feathers offered to you. "So– you were saying, about being horny and obsessed with me when you come around? ...Why pump the breaks now, hun?"

"Because-” Hawks’ wings drops ever so much to reveal at least part of his face. “-it's not just 'urges'. I've felt... strongly about you for a while. I know I told you as much back in that dressing room, but that was, like, barely scratching the surface. I've not missed someone like I've missed you." 

His heartstrings shine in his eyes, like Hawks is hoping you'll notice his effort. 

"I've lived long enough and, yeah, maybe flown around the block enough, too.. But it’s made me know what I really want. And for me... It's not just a want. I meant everything I said earlier.”

His shyness leaving him, Hawks finally returns his arm and outstretched wing over you again:

“I wanted to be the one for you. I loved you then,” Hawks tenderly confesses. “I just didn't know how to put it. Had to keep up all those damn appearances and walls up. Lie that I was joking to cover my ass, n’ regretted it ever since."

You soften because you know that fact must be hard for him to admit. 

"And by the time came to come back into town, it’d been so long since I'd seen you, since we last even could talk freely. You’d accomplished so much here and in Mustafu. I… honestly feel kinda shitty that I didn't tell you after so long away… before you were pulled in twenty different directions too, I bet– back when I should have slowed down a damn second to tell you so. I should have, you deserved to know."

"Oh, Keigo..." you loop your arms around his neck loose, brushing his hair back over his ear within reach.

"Sooo, you're not mad?”

"No, I'm not mad."

"Long time I wasn't exactly honest with you,” he presses with apologetic eyes, “I know how you get around all the PDA and stuff.”

You value how much Hawks is trying to be as open with you as he can. You know his limitations and pressures full well that keep him from speaking his mind in the moment as he might like to, and know his affections holding true despite the formalities he’s forced to keep up must have been torture itself.

It shows adorably, on his pouting face, even now. 

"That kind of 'dishonesty' is the only one I can live with, hon’. It was worth it in the end anyway, wasn't it?"

Hawks smiles -finally- and pushes up to kiss you chaste on the mouth before melting into your forehead again, 

"Every time our paths crossed, baby. even for a second- I ached to get my hands on you any way I could.. but after this last mission, the only thing I wanted was to see you safe and sound, here at home. Nothing more. Just safe. So now- even this-  has a bigger weight than ever."

"What do you mean?"

"Being with you, like this..." 

Hawks’ hand sweeps down, rubbing long strokes up and down your side. You turn further into him, encouraging the touch. 

"I want this,” Hawks utters with soft reverence, “I want you.. but sweetheart, it's not just about a bed anymore. Not for me. It's a connection -an important one- and it goes two ways. I don't want you nervous in any way around me. I want you to be sure. All of this is completely up to you- and I can wait. I will wait, if that's what it takes for you to feel ready."

You cringe at how firm yet desperate he sounds. 

See, you’d finally opened up about your hesitations too, about dating heroes in general. It was a funny topic in quirkless circles, as you’d shared with him: widespread assumptions about unfair power dynamics, acclimating to fame by proxy, privacy retention, the like. It made you doubly cautious in your line of work, as you surround yourself with Pro-Heroes on the daily– only to find out one held your heart in a perfectly private place that you were nervous about letting slip and smack you in the face should it go wrong. All irrational fears, truly.

"Dammit, I wish I'd never worded it like that.." you moaned at your past slip. "Keigo, I feel nothing but safe with you. It's--" you flit your gaze around bashfully, "This-- may be something to explore and fumble around a bit with. But it's not because I'm scared, it's because I-- I dunno, I don't want to-..."

He raised a patient brow to you, kind and reassuring.

"... Dissappoint you, I guess?" 

With a funny pout, Hawks waits for you to explain.

"I can dole out all the pretty words on a page I like, but things are different when you're right in front of me. Looking at me like this… like I’ve wanted all this time, too,” 

You cup his cheek, which he totally sinks into the moment your skin makes contact- 

“I get nervous because you're so damn incredible and I want you so fucking bad too… I can't help it either."

Hawks chuckles, relieved in his shoulders as your hungry tone shimmers over your words.

Looking up at him just as tenderly as you touched, you trail a hand along his shoulder, down to his arm. There’s tiny, light freckles there, if you look hard enough.

"Self-conscious is a better way to put it,” you decide, “You've never given me a reason to think you'd hurt me, never... But it's just a fact; you've lived and operated in a different world than I have, Kei. I hope to not be all flustered and blushing through the newness, but I might, still. I know your heart has the best intentions, but I couldn't help imagining you making– comparisons.”

“Comparisons?-”

You swallow your nerves and insecurity rarely voiced to others.

“Just… want to be enough for you. For what you need me to be- if you even wanted that with me."

In favor of fixing his necklace’s clasp, you settled. Inside you knew this wasn't a fair stereotype for heroes, given all he'd shared so intimately about what the life was really like, and he confirmed this suspicion with his displeased reaction.

"You think because I’m out front and center that I should be with someone else.”

You toss the thought away, but answer him in the way you might have months ago, “Maybe?”

“And you think you're lesser because you don't have ‘experience’- because if you're unprepared, you're not of value? That I wouldn’t still want you that way?”

Heat creeps up from your neck, “I- I mean…” 

Hawks further stops your preening of him, and holds your hand instead-

“--And because no one's fucked you right in the past means youre unworthy to have it now?”

You dropped your head back immediately in regret and looked off. "Ok crass, but sure."

"Baby, look at me."

At his word, you level out and meet his gaze again. He cups your face again more gently.

"We're going to make another promise to each other, here and now, okay? Gotta make one thing crystal clear, if nothing else."

You nod to agree.

"One, no more bullshit mind reading. I've had enough of that."

A snort leaves you and he smirks to match.

"I mean it! It won't do either of us any good. If you -or I- need to talk, we talk. You said you were here to support me, and you always have been."

Hawks smooths out his hand to grace your collarbone- meant to soothe. 

"But that means you need to let me be the same for you. I would never, ever judge you either. You are important to me- as an equal. In so many ways. You have my word on that. Deal?"

"Deal." you agree.

"And for two," the kind tone flips to annoyed, "I’ll rid that 'blushing bride' streak out of your head about this amazing body of yours myself... And I'm willing to use any means necessary. I am a Pro-Hero with training and coercion strategies under my belt. With a problem staring me in the face, I’ll fight it until it’s done- and I'm patient."

You quirked your lip while trying to maintain the sensitive conversation.

"Uh-oh. That sounds serious." 

"It will be if you make my job difficult, sweet thing." His eyes jump down to your increasing blush. “Which is why -by the way– it's laughable that you think I'd ever have had time for any chasing tail. Have ya met me? I'd never hear the end of it from my agent!”

That’s funny, but– fair. Another unfair assumption on your part, but Hawks’ easygoing attitude has you bursting into a fit at how easy it is for him to make you laugh.

You really do adore him, and if you can trust him to protect you against a world full of villains, you could give him grace in the love department too.

"Now I'm going to ask you something…”  

Hawks turns to an amorous side of him: where you expected him to land once your head hit the pillow…

“and you're going to answer me honestly…"

"Yes, sir?"

Hawks' top rung of feathers ebb, enough to buffer his telltale control. Seems he’s just as susceptible to a sultry title as you are... 

"See, that shit?” Hawks pipes up, “That's what’s made the last three months a living hell!"

"What, being polite?" you tease your leg to nudge against his from where you’re pinned beneath him. "I thought you liked that I was a nice girl..." 

Lowly, Hawks growls an appreciative moan. He rubs the pads of his fingers along your shoulder all too sensually with just enough pressure to prove his point.

"I do, lovedove. But now, you're my nice girl. Can’t keep you from being yourself… but it's going to be twice as hard not to show everyone who so much as looks at you just how much you're mine."

Behind a demure smile, your heart pounds at this possessive Hawks. Quick instincts targeting prey cross over into the pleasure realm it seems, too.

"My question is..." Hawks leans in shifting lower to nose your hair aside– punctuating his options with a kiss at each stop along your cheek:

"How would you like me to warm you up tonight, lovely? Do you want my hands... my mouth... or something else?"

STARS ABOVE, SOMETHING ELSE YES.

Rather than make the impossible decision, you shudder out a funny quip,

"--Dealer's choice?"

Hawks chuffs against your neck, "That's not an answer, beautiful..."

But how can you answer when he’s so close and siphoning all thoughts from you? All you can do is keen at the sensations on your neck and curl up into him with leisurely hands around his back scratching enticing circles. Kissing gentle suckles at your neck- plus a bite here and there- Hawks sweeps back your waves before he whispers low again,

"Tell me how far you wanna go with this. Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm.." you hum wordlessly. Hawks’ hand presses to the space above your breast.

"Heart's racing again. Does this feel ok?"

You hum back, drawn out and comfortable.

"How ‘bout this?" He dips and now cups a breast in a hand and massages carefully while peppering your neck and chest with the same hot kisses.

A longer moan still.

"There you go. Keep talking to me. Tell me what feels good; you can do it."

There’s nothing you want more than him– nothing in the world.

"You have me. You have all of me," Hawks’ hips curl into the bed in a grind below you getting high off the accidental confessions you let loose.

"I want..." you swallow for control, "... To-- kiss- hah."

His eyes flicker to your face from his perch atop you, seeing you blissed out, lolled to the side: smirking at his success already.

"Yeah?" Hawks drifted a little lower, cooing up at you between wet open-mouthed presses. "Where do you want me to kiss you?"

"No, I-" your voice pitched up higher and he stops, smoothing out his strokes and eyes you as you rouse enough to face him.

From his hand's touch, he surely feels your pulse throb and hangs on your words just as he did before, but you want to take the pressure off of him. 

Just for a little while. He deserves it. He won the bet, after all.

"I wanna kiss you."

Hawks bridges over you to meet your eager arms to pull you in for a hungry kiss. Together, you get an addictive taste of each other over and over, meeting each one with equal passion and excited fervor.

In between heavy breaths, you push your racing heart forward towards his next dousing of affection. 

" I wanna.."

"Wanna what?" Hawks slurs like he’s drunk. Enamored, but rutting into the bed again impatiently.

"Wanna kiss you-- fuckin' everywhere." you sigh, zeroed in on his throat’s bobbing- adorned with your gift of gold there.

Pleased at your growing excitement, he chimes back, "Be my guest~" 

Hawks scoops you up and flips you so you are positioned laying on top. Pleased at the shift, you smile charming as ever and sit up to adjust, putting yourself on full display for him. It’s proof that it was never the dress specifically that made you appealing to him: but the model underneath.

His hands rove over your thighs and hips, getting a good look at you in the firelight, but settle on your angelic face in the end, as usual.

"I kinda like you up there~!"

"Kinda like it, too,” you wriggle yourself with a refreshing rake to your hair's part. 

With Hawks's hands on you, you felt truly as powerful and enticing as he made you out to be-- if his gaze wasn't indicative enough.

"Wish you could see yourself right now… You're damn gorgeous."

"And all yours-" you lean down in perfect confidence, settling on his chest and brushing his hair out of your way as well. "May I?"

"Please." He tease a brow for a 'go ahead'.

Oh was he in for it. 

The moment you latch on, you suck and mark at his neck like a pro, pulling a groan from his sweet spot already. How the hell did you find it so fast? You're just that good.

You caress his chest with the hand not crucial for balance, fingers beginning to memorize every soft-lipped jump in the skin where a faint scar splits it. It’s the tender attention he deserves that you know from his offhand comments that he does not and has not received in the years spent under the Commissions’ eye. 

Taking your time and attention, you lavish on worshipful kisses across the column of Hawks’ throat and have to flip your hair again when you switch sides. Hawks seems to enjoy its drape like a curtain across his field of vision in the few moments where his eyes flutter open. It's a reverse of what his wings do for you; he's enamored by the sight. 

"Ohhhh, that's perfect. Oh, you're so perfect- fuck, you're good at thi--S-MMMMM."

Hawks cut off his trill when you sucked another equally tender spot and hum along with him. Lost in the moment yourself, you roll your hips to meet him; how he trembles under you and against the cock twitching to life- hot against your bare skin. 

You’re just about to move away from a high point of his neck, when his hand comes up to fist in your hair and hold you in place–

"Harder."

"Hm-what?"

"Bite me--Harder, baby, please."

At the hoarse request, your eyes flash wide open… but who the hell are you to refuse?

So you give him a little nonsensical melody, sung just soft like so along your kisses’ trail, then tease his throat with your teeth before nipping him gentle enough in play. But it’s enough of a shock to make him groan–

"FFFFuck, YES."

You chuckle low, followed by a little hushing finger on his lips.

"Keigo, baby… You don't want my neighbors and half the joint to give my shit about the Winged Hero’s volume, do you?"

"I don't fucking care." Hawks rasps, "Let em hear what you're doin’ to me- let ‘em hear what they can't fuckin’ have."

His lovesickness makes you proud in the most selfish way, and reward him by blowing on the hot skin rising and falling with breath as you kiss along each pec next, lightly singing bits and pieces of no song in particular. For as much as this boy has made your heart sing just by looking your way, you try to give him a piece of that back. Just wordlessly praising him along every scar and response to the sounds he’d make; in want, plead, hunger for more.

Slow torture.

Shockingly- and much sooner than you expected from his control so far- Hawks had enough.

His eyes flash open in molten gold.  He’s capturing you with strength you’ve so far only witnessed on tv and is pulling you into his lap in full force. Sitting with legs astride him, you gasp at the heat of him again- even more at how desperately your source of need literally weeps for him. 

Blindly Hawks reaches for himself and prods you with some gently-paced rocks up and down, kissing you back and with renewed vigor as your breaths got faster.

"Ready for this?"

You nod and cast every ounce of trust to him with a grounding breath, taken with his eyes for about the millionth time tonight– strong jaw and blonde whisps crafting his face.

"Y’gonna hold on, pretty girl?" Hawks scoops under your shoulder blades, a more mischievous smile gracing his kissed-bruised countenance.

"I got you," you echo. "Your turn to tell me just what you want, huh?"

"Got all I want right here."

And you believe that softness from him: private and earnest and shared as gently as a secret.

It brings a barely audible word of love from the pit of you. Hawks breathes it back into your waiting lips before sealing his mouth to yours. 

Then, gloriously slow, he pushes up and moans sinfully into your mouth, low and slow. You made the sweetest sounds in complete rapture once he settles in -full in the best way- slick and deliciously joined.

Hawks curses against your chest, breathing heavily. 

"Mmmmm tell me when–I can move... Y’you say when-”

"Ohmygod yes,move…" 

No more teasing needed. 

Hawks hoists you up and forward suddenly, now bent on his heels. One arm is wound tight around your waist, and the other clutches you to his chest by your warm nape. You release the breath and pull tight onto his shoulders, moaning loud for you. Then, Hawks just went to town: fucking up into you, deep, steady, and hard.

"Oh ssshit, babe, you're so good~~" you praise light and high in your voice, rocking your hips in time, in awe without even the slightest shock of his strength. 

Pressing down against him nudges your own sweet spot every time– a point not lost on your dear Keigo.

You rock with him eagerly, but quickly reach the point of lightheadedness he had when you’d kissed all along his chest… the same shocking sensations flutter through you when he starts to make love to each breast lavishly. All those sensations of hard nips and soft  tracing were quickly building up and up and up.

“Fuck,Keigo– I, ah… AAH!--”

“That’s it, lovedove– say my name. Say my name- I’m gonna have you cummin’ for me, love.”

Kissing praises into his neck, you become entranced by the sounds of your pats of joining, the grunts of Hawks fighting against his moans in between, the reactive bats of those fierce wings and his strong hand petting through your hair. By its steady grip, you can tell he’s possessively keeping you close while he ruts into you. In no time, it was his turn to babble nonsense while deeply buried in you.

"Sweet baby... Fuck, that feels so good-- ughhhh do thatagain, squeezin’ me... Fuck, you could kiss me anywhere n’ I wouldn’t care... Ahhh just wanna feelyou..."

Your insides swell and sigh at his happy cries... and you can’t bear to refuse him. 

So you choose something small~ to test how much your touch truly affects him. You opt for a small, breathy peck at the corner of his eye, where his lashline is fanned out in a darling beauty mark on him by nature’s design. It works: whether it’s a teasing kiss on the neck or a peck on the tenderest skin on his face, you’re making him drive extra punches in his thrusts.

His name is your steady prayer in this treasured, rare time with him,

“You waited a'long time for this haven't you, pretty bird... Missing me so much, loving me from afar, and I didn't even know it yet…"

Hawks chuckles a savory growl, "Missed me too, didya. You missed me? This what you wanted? Feels good, huh?"

"Hell, I couldn't even have imagined it would feel this good, -near- this good-- gods, you're so strong.. and safe- fuck, I'm so safe, and all yours. All yours."

Hawks' pants pick up, almost feral again-- 

"Say that again."

“I’m– yours?”

“Again.”

Pushing back on his shoulders, you find balance framing his face and pushing his hair back to study his glazed over eyes-- the ones staring right through you with his love’s fire consuming him from the inside out.

Purely on instinct, you tug Hawks’ hair back to whisper against the sensitive skin under his ear,

"I'm yours, Keigo Takami."

Sealing your declaration with a hot mix of tongues, Hawks brokenly cries out, squeezing you tight and pushing you down so hard you felt the stars shoot through you in a blazing hot wake. The burning heat makes you gasp at the fullness now warming you through. Too quick to even ask where you’d have preferred he cum in you, you wouldn’t have honestly had it any other way,

…telling him you were his is what did him in, and you take a special stroke of pride knowing your claim on his heart.

After his strangled grunts give way to deeper breaths, Hawks collapses to the side, sending you in a barrel roll along with him extending his legs under you- still submerged in you. His fingers trail along your back leisurely while he catches his breath, which made for such a comforting cool down. 

Breathing normally and opening your eyes again, you notice the fire was still alive in your fireplace unit, but barely- as if the heat you were generating was snuffing out the actual flames.  In reality, the timer was just going out.

"Oh wow~" you sigh, "Look at that."

"Yeah- wow~" Hawks sighs.

Your lashes tickle from your pillow -his chest- and remind him, "I was looking at the hearth, sweet boy." 

Beyond the heartbeat making music under your ear, you hear only a small rustle above you, then watch a singular feather make another bullseye, and the light roars back to fullness.

"oOo…” It’s shameless how ditzy you feel, watching him not miss a beat, even in his afterglow.

Hawks chuckles, back to stroking you.

"So.. ‘terms fulfilled’, love?"

"Mhmmm. To the letter-" you tease and slowly manage to rise up enough to cross your arms across his chest as a pillow for yourself so you could look at him. Naturally, a smile settles onto your face at the sight, "How bout you; winnings ‘sufficiently provided’?"

Hawks pillows an arm under his head and caresses your face with the other.

"This winner didn't last near as long as he intended to… with all your ‘fulfillment’, little minx." 

"I think it was worth it. I got you really worked up- which I imagine, is a hard feat given your occupation,” you fall into his touch. “I'm pretty proud."

Hawks praises you with a sexy little smile, "You should be~"

With his sparkling eyes drooping shut for a moment, you press a little kiss above Hawks' prominent winged eye once again. Upon opening, you found him lazily watching you with a content smile.

"What's that look for?" you ask.

"Just kicking myself,” Hawks holds no sweet-talking twang in his voice now, “Why didn't I cut my rascal act sooner?"

You dismiss his fear in a little roll of your eyes. 

"Don't do that. It was meant to be like this. Like you said- no need to rush." Another small kiss is granted on his cheek.

"C'mere," Hawks coaxes you up and gifts you a soothing kiss on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Your brain still needed catching up, because your muscles seem very slow to move. Shifting off of him,  you felt your 'activities' leak its mess down your legs and you shut them immediately, flopping back embarrassed. Hawks chuckles warmly, grabbing one of those abandoned towels and taps your knee to open.  The prodding renders you more openly shy now, but Hawks only gave a sweet, consoling brow back.

"C'mon, why so shy? Open up." He prompts your knees to open, and wipes you down with a caring touch. 

Even with his task set on purely cleaning your skin, you lay back and stretch your arms just watching him work. Slowing his movements, Hawks meets you eyes again when he makes an unintended jolt along your clit, giving you an appreciative once over, shaking his head with gentle eyes.

“And don’t you think I forgot about you, baby~” he whispers like the rascal he claims to have put behind him: “We’ve got quite the night ahead of us. Can’t be overwhelming you too much too soon.”

You giggle, pulling him down to hide in his shoulder again. Pleased enough at his sense of peace as he breathes, you melt more at the reminder:

"You're gorgeous, you know. Fancy dress or not."

A closed-lipped smile is all you can manage in your exertion. 

"Wish I could see it through your eyes. All I see hangin’ over there is a sure fire way to get me laid."

Hawks’ laugh is near delirious- carefree. 

"I’ll make you see. Just give me a little time. I'm patient." 

Hawks offers you a hand and helps you to your feet- only to catch your unsteady legs, leaving you chuckling into his chest, nuzzling playfully when his wings come around to keep you warm in the meantime.

"Sorry ‘bout that…" you gain better footing.

"What, that I fucked you too good?"

"Keigo."

"Crass, sorry,” Hawks pouts.

"You are not that sorry."

And he agrees, full cheek returned, "Nah." 

When he passes your still partially open closet where you’d tossed the dress back to hang up for dry cleaning, Hawks stops your walk altogether in favor of holding you from behind– just like he did in the dressing room.

“And you know that’s not the only thing to get me to take you to bed, lovedove,” he makes the promise by your mess of hair, “Try on anything else in there for me– and all you need to do is ask.”

[mins-fins]

hold me tight

&&. yes it took you a good couple of years, but it's nothing making out in a pool can't fix!

pairing: na jaemin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sorta kinda sorta suggestive

warnings: kissing (is that a warning?)

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is a snippet from a longer form thing that i have given up on, but anyway, who else loves na jaemin?? if we ignore the fact that i only learned how to swim like one week ago….. i really like pools now that im not almost drowning every few business minutes 😁 i also really like na jaemin, and my last nana work was angst so i have to make it up to you all ⭐️ also, sort of kissing writing practice, it's terrible, don't focus on it pls xoxo

your arms are crossed as you slide the glass door open.

"jaemin".

"hm?"

you sigh, a heavy breath leaving your lips. he giggles, escaping your scathing stare by diving under the water. your corresponding groan gives him yet another thing to smile about, even when he's attempting to hide from you in chenle's pool. "how the fuck are you swimming at eleven pm?"

when jaemin rises again, he snickers, somehow able to keep his composure after almost inhaling a bunch of chlorine. "it's fun, y/n, why do you nag me so much?"

"i'm not nagging, i just need to make sure you don't get hypothermia".

he pouts like a child being punished. "your boring y/n" he sings, smile still tugging at his lips as he lays on his back, basking in the water that keeps him afloat.

you again sigh, rolling your eyes as you sit down at the edge of the pool, legs crossed. "and you act like a child, jaemin".

though he would usually feign offense at such words, it seems a switch flips in his head, and he swims his way over to you, leaning his arms against the ground you sit on. "you love me, though".

you chuckle, now that's amusing. "do i?"

jaemin hums, nodding, smile unmoving as traces shapes into your leg. "you do, that's why you aren't snitching on me to chenle".

you scrunch your nose at the feeling of his wet finger on your body. "what are you gonna do if i don't follow that?"

"strangle you, maybe".

the threat is said with such certainty that you laugh, because there's a hidden sense of playfulness behind the warning. "you can't strangle me, you need me".

he scoffs, pinching your knee and chuckling at the yelp he receives. "you sound like jeno".

"is that an insult?"

"you two are just as desperate as each other, so.. yeah!"

your eye roll is stuck to you at this point, maybe you simply expect such words from your best friend, because it doesn't exactly furrow your eyebrows as much as it makes you giggle. you slap jaemin's hand away from your leg, childishly sticking out your tongue at him. "your a bastard".

"i'm being honest, come in with me?"

now it's your turn to scoff, listening to the rhythmic whistles and silent splashes of water. "no, you're crazy".

"oh come on! you aren't leaving me to entertain myself alone, are you?"

"i can entertain you while being dry".

he narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest underwater. "you are boring".

you click your tongue; "how sad".

"y/n!" he's quick to whine. "how are you going to come out here to nag me then not get in the water?"

"well i didn't come out here to swim".

"then you should leave".

he pouts again, and you sigh again. it's always like this with na jaemin isn't it?

you roll your eyes as he starts staring at you with that look. "okay fine, i'm sorr— AHH!"

your statement is suddenly cut off when he uses his superhuman strength to pull you down from your place, and you fall face first into the pool with a huge splash.

when you finally come to, jaemin only stares at you with that same shit eating grin. "oh you assho—"

"hey! you can't punch me in chenle's pool!"

"and whose gonna stop me?"

you yelp again when he splashes water in your direction, just barely closing your eyes in enough time to avoid the water attempting to enter them. "you think your sooooo funny huh?"

"hilarious, even".

you grimace, shaking your head aggressively back and forth in an attempt to get some of the water out of your hair. "fuck you".

jaemin frowns again, but he can barely hold in his snicker, and now it's your turn to cross your arms underwater. he moves his hair strands out of his face, staring at you for a weirdly long time. "i mean.. you look pretty like this".

you deadpan, cheeks just barely flaring up at the words. he says it all the time, y/n, it's not weird..

but na jaemin himself is weird, so you shouldn't be thinking all that into it.

"are you flattering me so i don't murder you?"

he snickers, looking down, seemingly as nervous about it as you are. "oh so i'm not allowed to compliment you now?"

"you're a weirdo, i always have to question what you do".

jaemin gasps loudly, clear offense in his tone, you can barely hide your smile as you see his reaction. maybe it's a bit strange how his eyes linger on your smile, but what can he say? it's pretty, he needs to make you laugh again.

"y/n".

you blink, staring at your best friend with eyes full of desire. did the outside air just turn up in temperature? it can not be this hot in early march. "yes?"

he hesitates for a moment, as if contemplating his words, which is probably the strongest sight to ever meet your eyes, because when na jaemin wants to say something, he says it. you sometimes forget he even has a thought process with how abrupt he is.

"can i kiss you?"

maybe it's the way it falls from his lips so naturally, or maybe it's the way his lips press together, they do look particularly soft, his constant use of lip balm clearly paying off.

you stare, the air getting significantly hotter, the water should be combatting that, right? your super attractive best friend who you totally harbor no romantic feelings towards just asked for permission to kiss you.

you chuckle. "in chenle's pool? really?"

your stalling, trying to correctly collect your word as your wondrous, beautiful best friend, na jaemin himself, stares at you like you're the only person in the world. has his gaze always been that heavy? when did your hands begin getting so clammy? what if you simply trust fall back into the water and drown? maybe it would be easier to avoid the awkwardness of this situation then..

"hey, when you have a chance you take it".

you laugh again, he really is something. you don't say more, simply pull him forward by his shoulder, finger itching to trace the skin of his bare chest. not before the kiss y/n, have some composure.

jaemin traces his fingers over the line of your jaw, and he pulls you in. his other hand slides down to your right hip, drawing a small squeak from you as your hands move up to his hair.

he wants to savor the moment, take a picture of it and hang it on his wall, there's a certain hunger in the way he groans against your lips, thumbs caressing the sides of your cheek. your arms are quick to wrap around his neck, still feeling the hairs on the back of his neck.

"you're so eager".

"you're the one who asked" you breath, gritting your teeth. "and besides—" you lean forward to take his lips again, the heat of his body transferring to yours. "—you wanted this as much as me didn't you?"

your desperation is quick to manifest, it manifests in the way you exhale sighs and whines, it's just something with na jaemin.

you two slowly.. swim(?) backward, your back hitting the surface of the pool wall. "oh chenle is going to kill us".

jaemin snickers. "why? it's not like were fucking in the pool".

you stare at him incredulously, of course he had to bring that up out of all things, but your face still heats up, and his lips turn up. "oh? do you want to fuck in the pool?"

"no you— pervert! we are not going to fuck in the pool!"

"okay okay, it was just a suggestion" he rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip.

you scrunch your nose, splashing water in his direction. "hey, let's just make this easy, go out with me?"

your jaw almost drops. is this man really serious?

"are you really asking me out in chenle's pool?"

"not as romantic as i wanted it to be but.. it works".

you would punch that smile off na jaemin's face if he wasn't absolutely adorable, oh, and you also really enjoy kissing him down. "okay stupid, but make it a good first date".

"i always keep my promises!"

and if you kiss him again? well that's no one else's business.

[meiplays]

“Those Stupid F🎀cking Hello Kitty Shorts”

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 𝐨𝐟 “𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲”

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

🎀

Summary: Negan finds her laying in his bed, wearing his shirt... and those damn Hello Kitty shorts she knew would get him worked up. He can't help himself. And by morning, neither can she.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Warnings: SFW but suggestive/spicy, possessive Negan, tension, implied intimacy, dominant energy, soft aftercare, fluff hidden under filth, established relationship, Negan being cocky, Hello Kitty apparel slander (affectionate)

Tags: Negan x Reader, Sanctuary era, spicy drabble, soft smut energy without explicit content, fluff with tension, power dynamics, Daryl mention, morning after softness, post-chapter snippet

It all started with those stupid hello kitty shorts.

She thought she’d slipped in unnoticed.

The Sanctuary was still as dusk, the concrete halls quiet under her boots. She left Negan’s bike parked right outside like it hadn’t just carried her recklessly through backroads in the dark. Like it wasn’t his favorite. Like she wasn’t his favorite.

She crept through the door to their room, the chandelier above casting a low amber glow. That golden light kissed the high industrial walls and swept shadows across the leather couches and the edge of his massive bed. Their dog barely stirred from his curled-up spot at the foot of it, and neither did she. Not when she dropped her clothes, pulled on his shirt — worn soft, smelling like smoke and leather — and slipped under the sheets in nothing but those goddamn Hello Kitty shorts.

Negan saw the whole thing.

He’d just gotten back from a patrol of his own, eyes still sharp from hunting for her. Damien had snitched — “Saw her take your bike, man. Out past the gates. Didn’t look like an accident.” — and that was enough to make Negan burn. But seeing her like this? Relaxed. Tempting. Smirking in her sleep, like she knew exactly what he’d do?

That was hotter than hell.

He kicked the door shut behind him with a low chuckle.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish wearin’ those?” he growled, crawling up on the bed beside her. His voice alone made the dog lift his head — then immediately go back to sleep, knowing better.

She stirred, still half-asleep, until his fingers found her throat in a gentle but firm grip. He leaned in, smirking, that infamous tongue licking the corner of his mouth as he dragged his lips along her neck.

“Mm... Negan?” she whispered, eyes fluttering.

“Damn right it’s me,” he said, teeth scraping the shell of her ear. “You wanna tell me why you thought stealin’ my ride and struttin’ back in like a fuckin’ brat was smart?”

She blinked, dazed and breathless. “You weren’t here…”

His laugh was low and dangerous. “And you decided to play bad girl. Thought I wouldn’t find out? Damien saw you. Ran his damn mouth.”

He slid between her thighs, his head resting right in the soft dip of her chest, arms wrapping around her like a vice.

“Could’ve killed you for makin’ me worry,” he muttered against her skin. “But fuck… you looked so goddamn hot.”

She ran her fingers through his dark curls, tugging him closer.

“Next time you take my bike,” he murmured, voice rough, “you better be prepared for what comes after.”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The next morning…

She winced a little when she moved.

Her legs felt like jelly. Every shift of the sheets made her blush harder.

Negan stood by the sink shirtless, brushing his teeth, grinning like the devil himself. He tossed her toothbrush toward her with two fingers.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Open wide,” he said with a wink. “We both know your mouth needs refreshin’ after last night.”

She groaned and threw a pillow at him, but still waddled over. He pulled her into his chest and gently guided her hand while she brushed. It was silly. Intimate.

He kissed her temple once she rinsed, trailing soft kisses down her jaw.

“That's my girl,” he murmured, arms wrapping around her waist. “You were so damn good for me. So good, baby…”

Her head dropped against his chest.

“You’re cocky this morning,” she mumbled.

He chuckled, voice rough from sleep. “Damn right. You see the way you’re walkin’? That’s mine, baby. You’re mine.”

She glanced up, breath catching.

He looked like he wanted to say something more — something bigger. But instead, he kissed her slow. Deep. Like she was still wearing those stupid fucking Hello Kitty shorts, and he was still losing his mind over it.

And maybe he was.

...

[trippingontheescalator]

Curious about the direction the HP fandom has gone

Okay, so as an old HP fan from way back when the books were first coming out, and then getting hit with the nostalgia and decided to return after years and years of not interacting with the fandom at all, the changes are truly mindboggling and I'd love to get to the bottom of some things.

Like, the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a fan favorite way back when we only knew his name but now I barely hear a whisper of his name. Now, the obvious answer is racism, which I think is the #1 reason why Blaise-pairings have dropped of significantly. Back then we all thought Blaise was a hot Italian girl, and then we found out he's a black man and suddenly people stop writing about him? Hm, yeah, seems the obvious answer (especially considering the popularity of other characters who are just a name on a page *cough*regulusblack*cough*).

Or the rise in Snape-hate. Like, Snape used to be the fan favorite. Everyone loved Snape. The meaner he was, the more we liked him. Being mean to children was a plus, not a negative lol. And this was back when we all thought he was a pureblood who came from a wealthy family like the Malfoys. Now by the time the 7th book came out I had pretty much moved on and so I didn't really see the fallout of readers discovering his actual background, so I don't know if his drop in popularity is classism and learning that he isn't a palette-swapped Lucius Malfoy or not, but honestly I would figure his impoverished background would be a plus in these times. Like Snape is obviously one of JKR's least favorite characters, and considering how she-who-must-not-be-named has destroyed her reputation with her increasing radicalization you'd figure the poor, abused, author-hating character would become more beloved instead of the rich, white, heteronormative bullies who barely even show up in the books. Like with our increasing knowledge of social injustice, I just don't understand why the fandom would want to latch onto the Marauders? And I just can't believe Snape's handful of snippets with Lily is the cause of his downfall (like what's there is barely enough to fill up a few pages, and there are certainly more toxic relationships in the series that are still beloved), or the fact that he was a Death Eater or that he inadvertently caused the deaths of the Potters (we already knew that in GoF and HPB respectively and he was still beloved, and this was when we assumed he didn't give a shit about the Potters or if they died when he went snitching). Draco is still popular. DRACO who doesn't give two shits about slinging around the word "mudblood," as opposed to Snape who actually changed for the better.

Am I just too old to understand? Is this like 90s fashion coming back in style (no, I won't do it again, I don't care if it's cringy I'm sticking with my millennial styles, I did the platforms and the slip dresses and the cargo pants in high school and I'm not putting myself through that again lol you gen z's can pry my comfortable mom jeans from my cold, dead fingers, I don't care if it makes me look old, that's the point, I AM old). Like, in addition to 90s fashion, has the 90s obsession with luxury athletic fashion like Lacoste come back in style? All those fashion ads of rich white people on yachts with popped collar polos? Are people starting to obsess over the Marauders because nouveau riche conspicuous consumption is coming back in style? It can't all just be young kids who have only read AtYD and have never actually opened one of the books, can it?

There also seems to be a trend of treating characters as if they're real people. I mean, we've always done it (Snape Wives, I'm looking at you), but now it almost feels as if the crimes characters commit are treated as if they're real crimes and that liking them is somehow a moral failing on the reader's fault. If you were to say "I don't like Snape, his douchy actions anger me, I'd rather skip all the parts he shows up in" I'd say, cool, I get that. That's normal. But "Snape is an abuser, a racist, and an incel and if you like him you're probably those things too" is fucking weird. Like, Harry and Hermione are not real children. Snape is not a real person. The things that happen in this book have as much influence on the real world as me imagining ninjas breaking into my workplace on a slow day. And that "media does not exist in a vacuum" pisses me off because it's blatantly misused. The pieces of media that have had serious consequences? Jaws, The Birth of a Nation. One resulted in the culling of sharks, the other helped restart the KKK. Do you know what those two pieces of media have in common? They're not about fucking wizards and magic schools. They instead paint a target on real groups. After twenty years nobody has ever tried to hurt a marginalized group of people because of a harry potter book (except for JKR herself).

Anyway, these are just some random thoughts, feel free to chime in with your own.

[theresthesnitch]

As I have previously mentioned, I'm dedicating November to writing my Wolfstar Royal Arranged Marriage AU. It's making slow progress. Would you like a snippet? Of course you would.

Warning: this fic features Trans Remus, who is not out to anyone at the beginning. In this snippet, James and Sirius discuss Sirius's future spouse using feminine terms. Yes, this is Remus, but they don't know any better yet.

~*~

“So, wedding day jitters? What do you need? Warm socks for your feet? Have you met your lovely bride?”

“I’m not permitted to meet her,” Sirius says. “Apparently, it’s in case I run away first.” 

James walks back over, standing right next to Sirius and fixing him with knowing eyes. “Do you want to run away anyway?” 

“I can’t,” Sirius says. He looks toward James, a small, sad lift to his lips. “I have to have a queen to be the king, and my people need me.” 

James shakes his head. “You know I don’t get it, mate. Why does it have to be a woman? You would be much happier married to a man, and a happy king is a happy kingdom.” 

Sirius scoffs, clicking his tongue as he looks back in the mirror. “You think my happiness is part of the equation at all? Trust me, it’s not. No, most important is heirs, and a gay king married to a man can't make heirs, no matter how much the people may accept that I can love who I love.”

“It's shit,” James says. 

Sirius smiles at him. “It is. But no one ever said being king wasn't shit.” Sirius looks back at himself in the mirror. 

“Should come with some perks, though,” James says. “Like getting to decide who you love.” 

“There are perks! Not that one, of course. But there are definite perks.” Sirius turns around, facing James fully. “It’s fine, James. Royal marriages aren't about love. That was never really in the stars for me.”

James wrinkles his nose. “I guess you could always take after your father and have a consort or two to get you through your very heterosexual marriage.” 

Sirius grimaces. “I’d at least have the decency not to snuff it in his bed.” 

James cackles, clutching his chest. “That is never going to be not funny to me. Do you know if he died like while he was in him? It would be awful for what's his name but–” 

“Evan,” Sirius supplies. “And yes, I do know, and no, I do not want to talk about it.” 

James’s face lights up. “Oh, Circe’s hairy snatch, he was, wasn't he? Your dad was porking his little bed warmer when he kicked it. Please say yes; I need to know. My life will be incomplete otherwise. I mean, may his legacy last an eternity and all that, but I absolutely 

Sirius runs a hand over his face, trying to stifle his laughter. He shouldn't be laughing, but it is just so ridiculous. “No, no, he wasn’t.” Sirius snort-laughs again. “It’s worse. If Evan’s screams are anything to go by, Father was… being porked.” James immediately laughs, doubling over and holding his stomach, and Sirius can’t help but laugh with him. “I can’t believe you made me say that.” 

“I can’t believe it happened! Gods, imagine that. Old King Orion, being fucked by a twink.” That sets James off on another round of laughing. “I’m never going to get over this.” 

“I’m never going to get over the fact that I know this.” Sirius says. He groans. “Evan was wailing it in the hallway. Apparently it was… a while before he noticed.” 

James laughs again, this time falling on the ground. “This might be the best day of my life.” 

Sirius suddenly sobers. “Can’t say the same, honestly.”

[theresthesnitch]

Somehow, simultaneously, the day drags on forever and passes by in the blink of an eye. 

The morning begins quiet. Sirius wakes before dawn, before the servants even, and despite his best efforts, further sleep eludes him. Instead, he gets out of bed, slipping out of his warm sheets, the air of the room cold against his bare skin, and slips on the heavy robe that hangs near his bed. 

The stones of the floor are cold under his feet as he crosses to the window. He gathers the ends of the robe around him and scoots to sit, tucking his feet beneath him. He watches the sun rise over the castle and the rolling streets of the city behind. It's beautiful, the orange and pinks of the early morning sky, the people–his subjects–coming out of their homes and starting their days, the way the air feels crisp and full of promise. It's all so peaceful, and at a complete juxtaposition of the way Sirius feels inside. 

That is the last moment of peace he has for the rest of the day. 

This week’s word is…

✨ WINDOW ✨

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[crownedinmarigolds]

More old art at near-3 AM! So I have different kinds of AUs for our characters, and some of them I dub "aesthetic AU" where I don't have a ton of meat for a story save for a few snippets of just scenes I like?? Anyway this lil bit of Stakebait Coterie is kind of based off of what I've seen of Yellowstone. I imagined the guys of Stakebait living as rangers - still Thinbloods - who handle a lot of supernatural stuff but keep it on the downlow. Khloe is a new girl in town who kind of is trying to restart her life... not knowing she will ultimately lose it then reborn again. She's living in this part of the comic! Synopsis for the post: Khloe volunteers to drive up supplies to the local rangers, she knows Christian and Kyle but has never met the mysterious Ralph. She thinks Ralph is made up by Christian and Kyle as a way to get more food which she isn't going to snitch about. The final picture is Ralph presenting himself (he's still carrying the Nos bane despite being a Thinblood) to Khloe who is like "OH MY GOD HE'S REAL." And she's carrying a crockpot.

IDK! Just havin' fun.

[qualified-trash-panda]

Water Fight

Day 6 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt is 'Clone Life' covering the mundane day to day life within the GAR and by god did I enjoy writing this lil snippet.

description: don't make bets with Boil, things go sideways quickly.

lengths: 1.7k

no warnings! we're all happy days for once!

“Gearshift!” A flustered trooper by the name of Peel caught his attention as he stepped inside, blocking his path.  “Weren’t expecting you.”

Peel still wore his armour, though his helmet was nowhere to be seen and his regulation cut had started to grow longer, a few curls dangling down his forehead, his square face grinning awkwardly.

Gearshift blinked once, taking in his appearance, a trickle of water dripping from the armour plating up his arms and he took a patient breath.  “Who?”

Peel cocked his head.  “You lost me.”

“Who’re you covering for?” He rested a hand at his hip.  “Crys or Boil?”

Peel blew out a ridiculous breath.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You been taking acting lessons from ...?” Gearshift queried and the man deflated.

“That bad?”

“Worse.” Gearshift confirmed, “What’s going on?”

Peel considered another lie and then forgot it completely as Gearshift crossed his arms over his chest, peering deeper into the man’s clear features.  “We might have a bit of a crisis.”

“We can’t have a crisis.” He told him blithely, “My schedule is already full.”

“The section officer left Crys in charge of cleaning the gunships.” Peel explained as he fell into step beside Gearshift, heading over to the obvious disaster unfolding.  “And he kinda bet Boil he couldn’t wash all the gunships before Switch got back and…”

Kark.  “Boil!” Gearshift yelled and heard a rattle as a bucket fell over, his boots splashing as he stormed through a puddle of dirty water.  “What the kriff have you done?”

A dozen puddles lay all over the hangar, growing steadily in size as he rounded a nearby gunship and came to find his unruly squad mates dripping head to foot. 

The moustached trooper stuck a finger out, pointing to the stunned bottle blond stood next to him.  “He bet me I couldn’t do it!”

Crys slapped his arm down, a betrayed frown creasing his forehead.  “Snitch.”

“Where’s Waxer?” Gearshift asked, sensing the headache already and rubbed at his temple, staring down Boil until he answered.  Waxer was usually around to stop this kind of mistake from happening.

“Why?” Boil asked, confused, at the same time as Crys told him he was with the Commander.

“Because he’s about ninety percent of your impulse control.” Gearshift snapped, turning to Crys and holding out a flat palm.  “Hand it over.”

Crys crossed his arms, giving him an empty look.  “Hand what over?”

“The Boil tax, give.” Gearshift waved his fingers, hurrying him on.

Grumbling, Crys took the credits from a pouch at his belt, begrudgingly dropping them in Gearshift’s hand and he pocketed them quickly.  He knew better than to make a bet with Boil, the trooper couldn’t turn down a challenge if his life depended on it, he had a competitive side that rivalled General Skywalker’s.  The Boil tax was supposed to deter anyone from making a bet.  You wanna lose your money, that’s your choice, but at least spare some for the rest of us.

“You better clean all this up before Switch gets back.” Gearshift ordered, jutting a finger at both troopers.  “You know what he’s like.”

“Who left you in charge?” Boil sneered and regretted it as soon as the smirk pulled his lips.  “Oh, we might have a problem then.”

The two stepped aside to reveal the broken water hose still spewing water across the deck. 

The headache waved innocently behind his eyes and Gearshift.  This is the last time he gets left in charge. “Did you at least clean the ships?”

Boil grinned proudly, “Polished and shining.”

Gearshift glanced at the neighbouring ship as the puddle about his feet grew, not a speck of grime dotting the hull, the latest round of blaster scorches scrubbed clean off and he even managed to get in the little gaps lining the blast doors.  No one ever bothered cleaning those, it was too finnicky a job and a waste of time.

“Not bad.” He complimented.  Credit where credit was due after all, leaning back to glance down the line of gunships and seeing them all equally shining.  “I’m actually impressed.”

“Ugh, sergeant?” Peel cleared his throat.  “The hose?”

Right.  His squad mates parted to let him through and he bent down beside it.  The nozzle had somehow got stuck open, a torn scrap of synthleather stuck in the mechanism, the water dribbling out.  He clutched it between thumb and forefinger, lifting it for a better look, careful not to aim it directly at himself when a burst of water shot from the hose, drenching Crys and knocking him back into the open belly of the gunship.

“Sorry!” Peel yelled from the mains, his gloved hands on the hose crank.  “Wrong way!”

Gearshift curbed the smile trying to pry onto his lips as Crys stood up, tiny clinks of dripping water echoing off the durasteel and when he shook out his hands a stream flew against the wall. 

“Personally.” Boil slapped a friendly hand on his shoulder.  “I think you deserved that.”

Crys thought differently, frowning at his brother, and he retrieved a bucket from near the wing, stepping back to tip the contents over Boil’s head.  He slapped his hand on the upturned bottom for good measure, the plastoid echoing and now Gearshift did smile.

“Cool bucket, Boil.” Gearshift joked.  “You gonna paint Numa on that one?”

Boil tipped the bucket back to glare at him, skating his foot across the wet floor and showering Gearshift.  He lifted his hands, blocking his face, the smattering of water sloshing across his chest, his arms, seeping into his exposed blacks.

A moment of calm, broken only by the tinkling of water, passed as the three regarded each other, glancing at each individually as identical looks of sheer mischief gradually lowered over their shared features and simultaneously burst into a water fight.  Gearshift dove behind a wing to avoid the first shot, a bucket rattling against the floor, and retrieved a sponge from where it had fallen, stealing his chance to dash out from behind the wing when Boil wasn’t looking.  He caught him in the back of the head with a joyful cry, unable to avoid the spray Crys shot his way and his damp hair whipped his cheeks as he spun. 

“Peel!” He yelled, waving at the other trooper by the mains and he threw back a thumbs up, hands clenching over the crank. 

Gearshift dropped into a roll across the damp floor, ignoring the way his blacks slid over the puddles, soaking him further, and grasped the idle hose where it lay.  He aimed it just as Boil grabbed a half full bucket of water, spraying him back against the ship and the bucket rattled to the floor, water spilling out across the deck. 

“What the kriff is going on here!” Trapper yelled, narrowly avoiding a sponge to the face, staring at the three of them despairingly, his gaze softening a little in surprise when he spotted Gearshift but only briefly.  “Sergeant?”

“Nothing to see here, kid.” Gearshift grimaced, dropping the hose and taking the hand Crys offered him. 

Crys hauled him up and he released a genuine laugh when his foot slipped on the damp floor, Cry’s tight grasp of his arm steadying his.

“Right.” Trapper grumbled, swiping the sponge from the ground at his feet and giving it a squeeze, water dripping over his glove.  “Nothing at all.”

A splitting whistle drew their gazes and Peel jogged back to them.  “Switch is coming.”

“Well, we tried.” Boil excused, leaning an arm against a wing and Gearshift watched it slide down the slick surface.  “Switch is not going to be happy.”

“He’s got company.” Peel added quickly and panic flickered across his plain features. 

Quickly, Gearshift bent to fiddle with the hose, ramming the nozzle so it looked like it had been shut and clearing the tear of any blockage before settling it back on the durasteel, waving the others off and Trapper followed him over to the mains.

“You’re gonna fix this problem by causing a bigger problem?” He hissed, glancing back over his shoulder as Switch’s voice echoed to them, his panic growing as the section officer spotted their unique little disaster zone.

“Crys.” Switch yelled, stamping over, his boots kicking up tiny sprays in the puddles.  “I told you to clean the gunships, not drown them!”

The Commander picked up the broken hose, inspecting the nozzle, and even from behind his straight stance, the diagonal lines on his thigh plates were easily recognizable and Gearshift flexed his hands around the crank ready. 

“I’d run, if I were you.” He warned Trapper and the trooper wasted no time hesitating.

Gearshift twisted the crank as far as it would go, the synthleather buzzing as a great stream of water rushed through it, shooting through the broken nozzle and blasting the bonnet from Cody’s head, the shock knocking him back a few steps.  The hose fell from his hand as he did, flailing about wildly until Waxer stamped his foot on the winding leather and yanked back the crank to stop the gushing water.

Boil and Crys fought to contain their laughter as Cody steadied himself and Gearshift leaned casually on the crank, one hand resting on his hip lazily as the commander’s head snapped around the hangar for the culprit.  His bucket landed with a thud at his feet, bouncing twice before settling.

“Gunships are practically spotless, Commander.” Gearshift grinned, waving the hand at his hip towards the line of larty’s.  “Take a look.”

“Gearshift.” Cody practically growled, water dripping off his scarred features and he ran a hand through his damp hair.  “I thought I left you in charge?”

Gearshift’s own black locks dribbled water into his increasingly soggy blacks and he pushed off the crank, threading his fingers through it, bending slightly to ring it out on the durasteel before grabbing Cody’s helmet and walking up without a single care in the galaxy.

“You did.” He smiled sweetly and offered his helmet, meeting his scathing look when he took it.  “I wouldn’t do it again, if I were you.”

dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 6 Prompt: Clone Life

[chenouttachen]

it takes a village to raise a dragon

my little fic is officially one year old! words can't do justice to how i feel about this fic and all it's given me. after not writing anything for years pit babe inspired me to sit down and write 33k of utter nonsense. just because i wanted to know how jeff managed to graduate with everything that was going on! after reading the comments people have left, i've seen it resonate with people in ways i never intended, but am so so grateful for. this fic gave me a place in the wonderful pit babe community, and i've made incredible friends because of it.

i wanted to celebrate a whole year of this fic being out in the world, but i wasn't able to write anything. instead, have a little alanjeff domesticity to mark the occasion. and, below the cut, a handful of post-fic snippets.

thank you to everyone who read it takes a dragon - it means the world to me that you did!

post-fic canon! (and yeah, okay, after seeing the alanjeff wedding bands in the pit babe 2 filming pics this does rapidly descend into 'what about when they get married?!)

jeff is, unsurprisingly, very good at his new job. he's a valued member of his team and he does find himself rising through the ranks rather quickly. alan couldn't be more proud.

with all of them very busy, alanjeff and charliebabe try to have weekly family dinners (which usually descend into pack time)

jeff and babe continue to bond over their mutual love of charlie and high-speed cars and they become fiercely protective of each other (including after a race when a particularly sore loser comes up to babe intending to get physical, but the guy suddenly finds himself with a face full of furious omega. alan is equal parts delighted and exasperated. babe feels so loved he has to walk away to hide the huge grin on his face)

babe actually does let jeff drive his fancy car, and charlie doesn't snitch about jeff's teen accident until after the car is returned. the horror on babe's face is delightful to witness.

after six months of whatever dance kimnorthsonic have been doing, they announce they're dating. not one single person in the garage blinks.

sonic and north also both eventually graduate, and the ceremony is followed by a party so outrageously them it's hard to describe (think fully themed but with questionable home-brewed moonshine).

pete and kenta are... complicated. they're still moving through decades of trauma and unresolved feelings, but they're doing okay.

alan brings babe on as a partner in x-hunter, not just a racer, and they manage the business together.

alanjeff officially mate after jeff has been working for a year, and alan is incredibly sappy about it

charlie is still the first person jeff wants to talk to when he has something on his mind, so when he decides he wants to propose to alan, he goes straight to him. charlie yells and hugs jeff so tight he regrets coming.

he ums and ahhs a lot about who should 'give him away' (because alan wants a proper wedding, and jeff, this time, is hopeless to refuse). at first, he'd thought about charlie, his only family, but his phi needs to be his best man. so he asks kenta.

babe, obviously, is alan's best man.

alan is a mess the day of the wedding - there's tears and not totally unreasonable paranoia: "what if he gets kidnapped on his way to the alter??"

when they exchange rings and vows, alan's handsome face is streaked with tears, but his hands are warm and steady when he slips the ring on jeff's finger.

jeff keeps it together until they end of the night when they're in bed together, exhausted. he sees alan in bed next to him, ring on his finger, and the tears just pour out of him. he adores alan so much.

he fucks his tired alpha about it, so gently. because that's something they do now, and he's very smug about it.