#y'all said to write self-indulgent fic. well here i am writing

[gellavonhamster]

genre conventions

One Piece || Smoker/Tashigi || set during the timeskip ao3 link rus || ao3 link eng

“They’re not such idiots if they still haven’t got caught,” Tashigi points out tentatively as she wipes her glasses with a handkerchief. She can feel a drop of sweat roll down between her shoulder blades with agonizing slowness, as if it is making fun of her.

Of all islands she’s had the chance to visit after Loguetown, Anemone, the southernmost islet of the Coral Archipelago, is definitely making the top five of the worst despite not having, say, quicksand or human-sized carnivorous plants. Sweltering heat and the air that feels thick enough to cut through with a knife. On day three, Tashigi gave up, said goodbye to shirts – even the short-sleeved ones were hard to survive in – and since then she’s been wearing only tank tops. Her subordinates approved of her new look with such fervour that she had to threaten the loudest commentators with the katana. It must be for the best that she didn’t bring any shorts and, consequently, is not tempted to put them on.

And so they’ve been marinating in this little tropical hell, because they have an order to help the local Marine branch track down and apprehend a smuggling ring presumed to have picked the island as their base.

“Idiots,” Smoker repeats huffily and takes a drag on another pair of cigars. The smell hangs in the humid air like laundry on a line. “'Cause in their line of work, only idiots would voluntarily slap on identification signs. Pirates are another thing, there’s…” he gestures vaguely. “Nothing but panache, every other one’s a performer. Smugglers, if they’ve got any brains, should keep it low.”

“Well, it’s not like the tattoos are on their faces,” Tashigi puts the glasses back on, having made peace with the fact that soon they’ll fog up again. All she does on Anemone is make peace with something. With most of the clothes she’s brought with her on this voyage not being suited for the unbearable climate of the island. With having to pin her hair up in a way she doesn’t like, so that not a single strand touches her permanently damp neck. With not expecting the local Marines, whose captain greeted them drunk (on duty! on Tuesday afternoon!), to be of much help.

“Face or not, sooner or later someone would see.”

“Some of us wear clothes,” murmurs Tashigi. She has also made peace already with her commander dealing with such hot weather by walking around not even with his jacket open, as usual, but completely shirtless. The fact that it is high time she got used to the way he dresses – or rather, does not dress – but instead she finds it harder and harder not to stare at him with each passing day seems to be another thing she has no choice but to make peace with. 

“Huh? What was that, Captain?”

She knows him well enough to distinguish a shade of a grin on his eternally stern face and know he’s not actually angry.

“Nothing, sir.”

Tashigi doesn’t know when it started. In retrospect, she is aware that generally speaking, she has always found him attractive, because she has eyes and can see, even if not so well. But that did not matter much back when neither of them had yet learned how the other takes their coffee, when neither of them had yet sat by the other’s bedside in the sick bay after the battle, when her hair hadn’t yet absorbed the smell of cigar smoke to the point that no shampoo could wash it off. Back when she didn’t yet find it exciting that his smell lingers on her as if he’s held her in his arms – which, of course, has never happened, and never will.

The smugglers may not be idiots, but she certainly is.

“We’ll cover the northern coast tomorrow,” Smoker says. “Judging by the map, it’s rockier than on the other sides, harder to approach. If there are no traces there either, we’ll return to the port. Perhaps the drugs are shipped right there under the guise of other cargo. Perhaps someone in the administration is involved. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The little shabby bar across from them is finally open – the bartender and the waitress have brought out the chairs and thrown open the doors and a couple of patrons have already arrived, lured in by the music. Tashigi keeps swinging her leg to the tune until she recognizes it as the Soul King’s latest hit. Smoker puts his cigars on an empty tin can that someone has considerately left on the bench as an ashtray, and opens a bottle of water. Tashigi catches herself watching his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp, and digs her nails into her palm.

She’s going to lose her mind on this island.

“Can I have some? I’ve finished mine,” she hears her own voice say, and he passes her the water without a second thought, because normal people don’t think about the way drinking from the same bottle is kind of a little bit like a kiss.

Like many lonely children, Tashigi used to read a lot as a kid. Fairy tales, myths, legends, later – and still, when she has time on her hands – stories of great blades and the swordsmen who wielded them. Stories were not a passion like swordsmanship, not as integral to her life and soul. But she remembered: they could provide an escape, if only for a while. And an escape was precisely what she was seeking some time ago when she picked up the kind of books she had always looked down upon before. Someone else’s passions to distract her from her own; someone else’s affections being returned while for her it was not in the cards. She was hoping that would help.

It didn’t help one bit. Rather the opposite.

The main problem with romance novels, at least with the most popular ones, the kind sold on every newsstand of every island, was not even their quality, but the way in half of the cases heroines fell in love with pirates. Every time it outraged her like the first time. They are risking their lives in the Marines to protect civilians against these villains, yet the civilians in question keep on romanticizing them! In most other cases, the main male characters, while not pirates, were so clearly modelled after real-life pirates, Warlords, or even Emperors that it was probably even worse. In one book, a poor orphaned shepherdess was rescued by a golden-haired knight on a white horse. In another, a nightgown-clad ingénue with a candlestick in hand wandered the dark hallways of a grim castle belonging to an equally grim lord – haughty and cold, but with such wonderful eyes! In yet another one, a village beauty was protected from the landlord’s advances by a charming red-haired, one-armed bandit. And as recently as a month ago, she literally threw another masterpiece at the wall when she realized that the inspiration for the love interest was none other than Monkey D. Luffy. Obviously, Tashigi can’t boast that she knows him intimately (not if she could help it!), but based on the impression he made on her that was simply ridiculous. That was the last straw, after which she swore she wouldn’t touch such rubbish ever again.

But it was too late. Because another problem with romance novels was that while reading them, you could pick up certain… ideas. Ideas that settle in your head all by themselves, sit there quietly for some time, and then comes a point when they seize you in an iron grip – and you give in to an impulse and obey them.

She’s not planning to seduce him. It won’t work anyway, and thinking of potential consequences of such impertinence gives her the shivers. She just wants him to look at her. Really look at her just for once. The way she looks at him. She will bury this one moment deep in her heart to take it out occasionally, spend some time looking at it, and then replace it. Press the bottle to her lips not tightly enough; let a trickle of water run down her skin into the neckline of her tight tank top, into her cleavage. Her shoulders are too strong, her arms are too muscular, but at least she has breasts – even bigger than she would’ve preferred them to be every time she wears tight-fitting clothes. She doesn’t want everyone and their dog staring at her. Just him.

She puts her lips around the bottle neck, throws her head back a little, and…

…spills it all on herself. Of course. Naturally. She bursts into coughing because water has gone down the wrong way, even got into her nose, and then she glances down and sees that her top is all soaked and even her pants are wet here and there. At least it doesn’t look like she peed herself. Small mercies.

Smoker sighs crossly. That look on his face is also familiar enough to her – he must be doing his best not to snap at her. Like every time she drops one thing or bumps into another.

“Excuse-me-I’ll-be-back,” she blurts out, places the bottle on the bench, springs to her feet, and rushes to the bar.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Hey!” yells the bartender as soon as he sees the new customer dashing right for the door in the corner. “Bathroom’s for patrons only!”

“Okay, okay,” Tashigi replies without looking at him, and pulls on the door handle.

One of the stalls is occupied. Tashigi takes some toilet paper in the second one, pats her neck dry, presses it to her chest too but instantly throws it away – it will just stick to the fabric and won’t help much anyway. The clothes will dry on their own. That’s not what she’s here for. She’s here to try to calm down before the urge to break into disappointed tears takes over.

The dingy mirror above the sink is cracked in two and carelessly duct-taped. Tashigi leans on the sink with both hands and glares at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are trembling against her will. Good job, well done. Then again, what else should she have expected?

That will teach her a lesson. There is no use trying to jump into a romance novel from a crime story.

Or a situation comedy.

The waitress that was putting out the chairs outside earlier comes out of the second stall, and Tashigi lets go of the sink, steps aside, and starts cleaning her glasses again. The woman – young, shapely, with long lilac hair – washes her hands and bends over the sink, almost pressing her face to the mirror – must be trying to see if something is stuck between her teeth. Tashigi puts the glasses back on, and her eye catches the tattoo on the small of the woman’s back, visible between the low-rise pants and the yanked-up T-shirt. A dagger wreathed in ivy.

The same as that of the two smugglers whose descriptions they were given.

Her face must be betraying her, because as soon as the waitress sees Tashigi’s reflection in the mirror, she turns around at lightning speed and takes a swing, aiming for Tashigi’s jaw.

It all happens swiftly and chaotically. Hand-to-hand combat is not her preferred type of fighting; it lacks the grace and dignity characteristic of a sword fight. But she doesn’t have Shigure with her – because this evening her and Smoker were meant to be not Marines but simple tourists simply strolling about and certainly not watching out for anything suspicious. Her adversary doesn’t seem to be in possession of weapons either, but she’s strong, twice as strong out of desperation. Tashigi dodges her first punch, but when they catch hold of each other, the waitress seizes the initiative, presses her against the sink and tries to smash the mirror with her head. Tashigi manages to wrench herself free, and when the supposed smuggler comes at her again, she grabs her, turns around, and slams both of them into the door. The door comes unhinged, and the two of them fall into the barroom; something’s crashing, someone’s screaming, but she’s not paying attention to anything around her until she finally pins the waitress to the floor.

When handcuffs are dropped on the floor next to her, she doesn’t question where they came from – just grabs them, puts them on the culprit, and only then raises her head. There are drinks spilled and broken bottles scattered all around and a couple of chairs knocked down close by. Two elderly patrons are making their way to the exit, having taken their glasses of beer with them. Smoker is looming over the bartender, whose arms are twisted behind his back and handcuffed and face is pressed to the counter. There is a dagger tattoo above the man’s left elbow.

“You alright?” Smoker asks, unfazed.

Tashigi gets up and clumsily helps the waitress sit up under the counter where they can see her. Another reason she doesn’t like fistfights – in the end she always feels like she acted dishonourably, even if that isn’t true. Her knees are hurting, her shoulder is burning, her glasses have cracked, but strangely she’s much more alright than several minutes ago, when she was trying her hardest not to burst out crying with shame.

“I’m alright. How did you get here?”

“I saw you through the window kick the door down with your body and that wench. Thought that was too extreme for you.”

Tashigi rolls her eyes.

“This guy here, instead of breaking up the fight, tried not to let me in,” Smoker continues.

“Let me guess: you punched him a couple of times and then just stood there watching me?”

“You had it all under control. Or am I wrong?”

Did she? All of it? Hard to tell at once. But she knows that if forces really were unequal, he would’ve come to her aid. More importantly, if he had thought her too weak from the start, she would’ve been mad at him and at herself.

She straightens her back.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry, I…”

“Stop. Why are you apologizing again? Right now – what for?”

“I don’t know,” Tashigi says honestly.

Smoker opens his mouth to say something, but then the suspiciously cheerful Pike and Bomba barge in – so cheerful that Tashigi could have assumed their local comrades-in-arms are a bad influence on them. That is, if the personnel of G-5 wasn’t managing just fine without any outside influence.

“Helloooo, sir!”

“Hey there, sir!”

“I see you didn’t waste no time!”

“Ooh, Captain, what a scratch you’ve got! Gotta kiss it better…”

“I’ll kiss you worse!” snaps Tashigi. This is when pointedly unsheathing a sword would have been on point, except she doesn’t have a sword at hand. However, her countenance turns out to be enough for the jokers to back away.

“Take them to the base,” Smoker nods towards the bartender and the waitress. “Don’t let them out of your sight. We’re gonna interrogate them.”

Bomba flashes a wicked grin.

“Leave that to us, Vice Admiral, we’ll loosen their tongues in no time…”

“Don’t.” Smoker flicks his lighter, puffs at another pair of cigars, and looks the arrestees up and down with an even more sinister look on his face. “I’ll deal with them myself.”

The waitress, who doesn’t know that the Vice Admiral sticks to much more lawful interrogation methods than his crazy subordinates, blanches slightly.

“Ma’am,” Pike winks at her and places his hand on her shoulder. Bomba, a little disappointed, pushes the bartender to the exit.

Tashigi watches them leave.

“I called them as soon as I dealt with the bartender,” Smoker explains. Tashigi comes closer to him and leans against the bar counter. All of a sudden a terrible weariness descends on her; she doesn’t want to go back to the base, doesn’t want to interrogate anyone, doesn’t want to move at all. She just wants to stay where she is, elbows resting on the sticky counter top. “Guess they must’ve been in that tavern around the block.”

“Dutifully looking for the smugglers, no doubt.”

“In every glass.”

She giggles.

There is a mirror on the wall behind the counter too, cleaner than the one in the bathroom and not cracked, and in that mirror she sees herself – the too-strong shoulders, the too-muscular arms, the damned tight tank top, the fresh scrapes, the disheveled hair, the tired smile.

And on her right – Smoker, standing still, his eyes fixed on her.

She thought she had already learned all the expressions of his face, but she’s never seen a look like this before. Steadfast, heavy – but not with disapproval or displeasure, it’s just that it seems like she can physically feel its weight and heat on her body. Feel it flow down her skin like water before, but thicker, viscous. Like wax. Or honey.

She hasn’t seen the way she looks at him at times, lost in thought, but she suddenly realizes: this is how.

Tashigi’s breath hitches.

A moment later he glances at the mirror and notices that she’s noticed him. She feels caught red-handed – even though he started it first, even though he was the one secretly looking at her. Tashigi turns away hastily.

“Is everything okay, sir?” she asks, hoping that she sounds relaxed enough.

Smoker nods slowly. His face is inscrutable, but it seems to her like a vestige of that look is still smouldering in his eyes.

“Pike was right. Your shoulder’s royally scratched,” he says. “You’d better put something on it when get back to the base.”

Were the poor orphaned shepherdess from the knight novel in her place, she would’ve just cast down her eyes shyly. On the other hand, the heroine of that book she threw at the wall – a ruler of a small island country – might have echoed Pike’s recent joke.

How about you kiss it better then?

“There must be more of them,” she says instead. Maybe she shouldn’t bother trying to change the genre; nothing good will come out of it anyway. She is as far removed from romance novels as could be. She doesn’t belong there. “The sailors from the Ernestine saw two men, but neither was described to look like that one. And I don’t think that girl can be mistaken for a man even from afar.”

Smoker nods again and breathes out a lacework of white smoke.

“Yeah,” he says. “Well, let’s see what they tell us. They might like to have their sentence reduced. Let’s go.”

She belongs in a procedural about the daily life of law enforcers.

But so does he, so she finds she doesn’t really mind.

[here2bbtstrash]

your votes are in! part 2 survey results ✨

i asked, and y'all answered!!! 👀

as mentioned a few times before, the survey is not closed - i won't update it with new works moving forward, but i will keep an eye on it if anyone decides to run back and add votes! so please don't feel like it's too late, esp if you're new and still catching up on the porn (there is A LOT of porn. pls take your time and stay hydrated okay 😵‍💫)

but since it's been about a week, and new votes have slowed down, i thought it'd be fun to do a reveal of the top 10 results as things currently stand! sticking them below the cut - join me, won't you? 🍷

at #10, with 40 votes, we have... moving day! i was honestly surprised to see this one crack the top 10, but i should know better than to underestimate the yoongi hoes at this point. y'all love your delusional long-haired boyfie content, and who am i to deny you that??

at #9 (my lucky number 👀), with 42 votes, we have... it's sweet! shocked to see a fluff fic crack the top 10 honestly, but let's be real, the taehyung hoes are THIRSTY (anyone who follows jai already knows this 😂) - i promise i'll write more for y'all soon, and that the next one will actually feature smut!!!

at #8, with 43 votes, we have... park and ride! (and technically also its sequel, five minutes!) y'all really said give us a part three mother 😭 and jokes on you because i have an idea for a part three *and* a part four for these two. you'll never be free of them lmao!!

at #7, with 45 votes, we have... the spins! i'm happy to see this one here!! i love this couple and i've wanted to do a sequel for them for AGES, though i swear my idea for what i actually want to do changes every few months 😂 guess i gotta decide on one!!!

at #6, with 51 votes, we have... sunday! idk why i didn't expect this one to rank omg!! i don't feel like i write jin particularly well, and i especially thought that level of BDSM would be too much for some 🙈 but i have learned y'all are freaks who like crying during sex.... huh...... DULY NOTED 👀📝

halfway there, time for the big hitters! at #5, with 54 votes, we have... party on you! ahhhhh this one makes me happy to see 🥲 forever AMAZED and ECSTATIC that my most popular fic on this blog is a hoseok fic!!! i want to write a million billion more hobi things this year, and i will certainly see what i can do about circling back to these two cuties. at the very least there shall be more ass-eating in 2023!! 🎉🍑

at #4, with 58 votes, we have... deep end! joon hoes with TWO appearances on the board, we love to see it 👏 i loooove that y'all are down not only for period smut, but for some of the risks i took with using more flowery/poetic language in this one! i had so much fun trying something new, i'd love to revisit this couple and that writing style again!!

at #3, with 59 votes, we have... two in one! y'all. no. i'm shook. wig FLEW, wig in the STRATOSPHERE. say WHAT?!?!?! the first fic i ever posted on this blog, my most self-indulgent work (actually it might not be the Most lmfao but it's UP THERE) - i'm. NUMBER THREE?!?!??! okayokayokay 👀 i see y'all 👀 we're gonna have a verrrrry fun jihope month next month aren't we?!?! 😈

at #2, with 65 votes, we have... the shape of your body! oh man 🥺 i'm almost, like, emotional to see this one rank so high. this fic is so so personal and dear to me, and was a BIG leap for my writing in a lot of ways. the fact that the response has been so overwhelmingly positive, and that so many of y'all read all 24,000 words of that fic and said you want MORE. i can never put into words how much that means to me 🙇‍♀️ it's hard for me to think of a whole plot for a sequel - bc i wrote so damn much already 😂 but lemme see what i can do to at least cook up a drabble or two (if you have ideas, keep 'em in your back pocket for jihope month 👀)

and finally... at #1... with 70 votes... no one is surprised 😂 - it's drip! ahhhhh squirt god min yoongi. we meet again. i will never live this fic down lmfaoooo. and funny... doesn't he have a birthday coming up soon? i could've sworn... 👀💦💦💦

alright besties!!! i'd love to know your thoughts!!! any surprises? any you're happy to see?? anything that didn't make the list that you're about to get out the torches and pitchforks over??? i wanna hear it all, so drop me a comment or an ask and let me knoooow!! 🎤💜

(for me, it's babygirl missing out on the top 10 by two votes... but it's fine i'm fine... 😭)

also can i just say - look at y'all, getting ALL OF OT7 ON THE BOARD??? we fucking love to see it!!! equal opportunists on this blog! yaaaaaaas porn for everybody!!! 👏👏👏

[cinnamon-bunni]

Title: Messy Makeup Rating: T Pairing: Gen (Asmo & Levi, Barb & Levi) Word count: 5.5k Did I write something completely self-indulgent? Of course I did who do you think I am? But! If you've ever wanted to read a fic about aroace Levi, ft. an aromantic Asmo and aroace Barbatos, then you're in luck! This was so much fun to write, I really hope y'all enjoy it as well <3 Read it on Ao3!

Asmodeus was happily picking out his outfit for the day when Levi burst the bedroom door wide open. He let out a squeak of terror, jumping a bit as he wrapped his robe impossibly tighter around his body. “Hey!” Asmo sent a glare at his older brother. “Knocking is a thing, you know! And it is certainly too early in the morning to have to be dealing with whatever you have going on. I haven’t even had my breakfast fruits yet, god dammit!”

Levi, who seemed to suddenly realize what he did, immediately turned red. He retracted from his weird anime-bursting-through-doors pose and started to pull himself back in, trying to make himself as small as possible. He probably would have pulled his jacket over his head if anything else were to push him to his anxieties.

While Asmo debated if he would be the catalyst that pushed Levi over the edge of having him hide in his room all day in embarrassment, Levi let out a meek “I wanna talk,” as he walked over and sat down on the edge of Asmo’s bed.

Asmo gave a heavy sigh, and rolled his eyes. “Could you at least wait until I was dressed for the day? Or after I ate some breakfast?” Levi shook his head feverishly, and Asmo gave another sigh. “How important is this conversation?”

“Like, a whole lot,” he answered, fiddling with the cord of his headphones. “And I came here straight away because I knew if I gave myself a chance to think about it I would back away and I don’t want to do that, I have so many confusing thoughts that I need help with and I can’t keep backing so please say something and not leave me in silence so I won’t run back to my room.”

Asmo went into the closet to look for a nice top. He supposed he would have to create a whole look another time. “Fine,” he said curtly. “But this better be good, you hear me?”

“R-really? Oh, thank you Asmo!” Asmo could just tell how his older brother's face lit up just from his voice. Asmo gave a hum as he grabbed a folded up shirt and a jacket off of its designated hanger.

“Okay, so…” Levi trailed off. “...How do I start this?”

“Take your time to gather your thoughts,” Asmo advised. He took the time to find a good pair of pants that would go well with the outfit, as well as a good color for the much needed shawl.

“I uh…like, so you know how Satan’s asexual?”

Asmo fought the urge to scoff. “Of course!” He remembered as clear as day when Satan excitedly burst down his door open (because apparently none of his brothers understood the concept of knocking), sat Asmo down to shove a book into his face and point at a passage that explained what the term asexual meant.

“Asexual,” Satan had breathed, a look in his eyes that Asmo only saw when Satan first found out what a cat café was. “That’s what I am. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? Why I feel so weird about sex and sexual relationships? And why I get so angry and feel so weird when I read unnecessary sex scenes?”

Asmo had only given a smile and nodded, giving an “of course!” because he was just so so happy that his brother found who he was and was happy with the label that fit him.

“What about it? Did Satan say something to you?” Asmo questioned the third-born, as he disrobed and quickly changed into the clothes he picked out.

“Well, not really. Not since he last officially came out to us. Not that there’s nothing wrong with him being asexual or anything!” He literally did not even hint at that sort of idea, but Asmo decided to keep his thoughts to himself for once. “I just, uh, it just got me thinking, and then I couldn’t stop thinking, you know?” Asmo went over to his full-body mirror, fixing up the shawl to figure out the best placement for it.

“I was wondering if…Imightbelikethattoo.”

“Hm? Levi, please, just take a deep breath and slow down. I promise I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course, but I suspect that that isn’t relevant right now.” Maybe he could add blue into the mix? Blue eye shadow wouldn’t be that bad of an addition. Maybe purple? No, he needed something more soft, like a lighter blue. Pink? Pink was always a good color.

“I…I think I might be like Satan. I think I’m something like that too…” Levi trailed off. Asmo watched him through the mirror, while Levi pulled and twisted the cord as he stared holes into his lap. Maybe gold would be a good color to go with.

“Oh, is that it?” Asmo asked. “I thought you said it was something serious.”

Levi’s head snapped up at that. “It is!” he insisted. “I mean, I don’t even know if I am…that or not! Or if I’m just something weirder and messed up, or maybe I’m just lying to myself. I don’t know!”

Ah, so there it was. The root of Levi’s problems. He walked over to his vanity, and opened one of the drawers specifically for earrings. 

“What makes you think you’re asexual?” he asked, deciding to start out simple, to start from the beginning.

“Well, after Satan came out, I asked him what he meant, and he explained to me how he felt weird when it came to sex stuff. Like he couldn’t see himself being in a sexual relationship, and he felt really weird if he tried. And like how–like he mentioned how he feels awkward and weird when he read sex scenes, right? And I thought ‘hey, that kinda sounds like me,’ but it’s weird because like, sex is good, right?”

Asmo picked out a pair of earrings from a velvet box. A golden pair of angel wings for each earring that was attached to a short golden chain, as to dangle a few inches away from his earlobes. Pearls were encrusted into the earring, giving it an almost iridescent shine. Asmo looked into the mirror, catching Levi’s nervous gaze until his older brother looked away and decided the wall was more interesting and appealing to look at. 

“I don’t know,” Asmo answered. “Is it?”

“Huh?”

“You just asked me if sex was good,” Asmo clarified. “Is it?”

Levi furrowed his brows. “Of course,” he answered easily. “Like, people like it all the time, right? Isn’t it your whole thing anyway? To tempt or like…lure people to having sex with you because it’s enjoyable?”

Asmo balled his fists and held the box that held all of his brushes tightly until his knuckles were white. “I don’t ‘tempt’ anyone Levi,” he said, more malice in his voice than he meant to use. “I go to them with clear intentions, or vice versa. I don’t trick or tempt anyone.”

“Sorry!” Levi said, distress clear in his voice. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I just–uh, I just-” Asmo gave a heavy sigh, as he sorted through his brushes. He knew his brother didn’t mean it like that–Levi often spoke without meaning anything harmful, and struggled to realize how something he said might be taken the wrong way. 

“It’s fine. I’m just sensitive about it, I suppose.” He opened up a container of powdered blush. A light, rosey pink color to add more color to his face. “But just because I enjoy it, doesn’t mean everyone has to. Satan certainly doesn’t, so why do you have to?”

Levi started biting his nails, clearly in thought. “But shouldn’t I like it?”

“Hun, I just said-” Asmo took a deep breath. Sometimes he forgot how frustrating his brother could be, but he tried his best not to hold it against him. He gave a slow exhale. “Satan is a clear example that you don’t have to like or enjoy it. If you don’t, then that’s perfectly fine!” Levi continued to bite his already short and messy nails as he furrowed his brows. Asmo softened his gaze, even if Levi wasn’t really paying attention. “I promise you aren’t weird. Just because others like it doesn’t mean you have. Everyone has their own preferences, and sex isn’t excluded. If you don’t want to have sex, then you don’t have to have sex. Simple as that, ‘kay?”

“But-” Levi frowned as he pulled a section of his cord between both hands. “But like, Satan doesn’t enjoy sex scenes in his books or movies. But I…” his face started to turn into a bright red, ducking his head down into his jacket as if that could hide his embarrassment. He started to mutter into the jacket, and honestly Asmo had no idea why he even came in if he was just going to talk to his jacket for help instead of the person he came for.

Finally deciding a color, he placed a sparkly gold pen of eye shadow, and took out some black eyeliner. He leaned in close to the mirror, not wanting to mess up (although Asmo had to admit, he would still do a damn good job without a mirror).

“Levi, for Diavolo’s sake, speak up!” he reprimanded. “I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying.” Levi squirmed uncomfortably.

“But unlike Satan, I…you know…like, watch…porn…and I have no problem with that!” Asmo had no idea why his brother went quiet and talked faster to move on from what he just said, because honestly everyone knew that Levi watched weird animated pornagraphy. It was not mind blowing whatsoever.

“Levi, no matter how much hentai you watch, you’ll still be asexual. You can enjoy watching it but not enjoy the act. Just because you like watching it or getting off to it doesn’t revoke your asexual card, or whatever your mind is thinking of. So stop it already, sheesh.”

Levi, who looked just about ready to die from embarrassment, gave a hesitant nod. Asmo didn’t pay much closer to his brother and instead focused on the pencil in hand as he worked on the eyeliner. 

“Alright, so I might most likely be asexual,” Levi said. “But like…what if I felt the same way with romance?”

Asmodeus paused. He then went back to work, because he was not going to wear something that was asymmetrical. “Go on,” he pushed, in hopes that maybe Levi would continue.

“It’s dumb,” he started, “it’s just so dumb. I used to think it was my sin acting up, whenever I watched slice-of-life animes or ones with romance as the main focus–but I think maybe, just like with the whole sex thing, I just don’t like it…?”

Asmo felt a smile grow on his face. He never really got to talk about this with any of his brothers, save Mammon and Lucifer, and Asmo was always willing to talk about an identity that felt right to him. “It’s perfectly fine! Not wanting to be in any sort of relationship is fine Levi, it really is. If you don’t want sex but still want that romantic life, like Satan, then it’s fine! If you want no relationships period, like Barb, then that’s perfectly fine too! If you’re not interested in romance but are for sexual relationships,” like me went unspoken, “then that’s also fine. Whoever you end up being will be completely fine no matter what anyone says.”

Levi gave a hum at this. Whether or not he was satisfied with this, Asmo wasn’t sure, because right now he had to focus on his eye shadow.

“But,” the older brother started–ah, there it was–as he also gave a noise of displeasement, “but, what if–it doesn’t make sense! In anime the protagonist always gets the girl in the end. Or–or even the other boy in the end sometimes! And he always seems so happy and so I should be happy right?”

“Everyone is different,” Asmo answered. “Not everyone is interested in that sort of thing. What matters are the things that do bring you joy, Levi.” A small bundle of nerves made itself clear in Asmo’s stomach, a nervousness creeping up on him. Maybe giving an example would help his brother. It would also be a perfect time to tell him wouldn’t it? “Like me, for example, I-”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Levi yelled, interrupting Asmo. Whether he meant to or not went unclear, but Asmo still felt a bit frustrated with his brother. “Romance is like…like everything, you know? So not only am I a loser who can’t even come out of his room without being afraid of the world and some gross looking otaku, but I’m also some weirdo who can’t grasp the concept of love? I guess I’ll just add another tally to the column of things that make me unloveable.” Gold ended up being smeared out of place as Asmo felt like something squeezed and stabbed his heart. He watched his careful eyes as Levi buried his head into his hands.

“Gah! I’ll always be the weird one, right? That’s my role forever? I can’t even get myself to be comfortable with romance or relationships in general, how pathetic is that? And what if it's just my sin acting up, huh? And what about the times I do like romance? Because I mean I don’t always hate romance, but also I tend to hate it most days? Oh. Do I hate romance? Is that what it is? Or am I–does my sin just make me feel that way?” 

“I don’t know!” Asmo snapped. Levi flinched a bit at the harsh voice, but Asmo couldn’t find himself caring that much. “I’m not some sort of all-knowing being about being a-spec, Levi! Why don’t you just go and ask Barbatos or something, I’m sure he can help you. And then you can go and insult him too, ‘kay?”

“A-Asmo, I-”

“No no, it’s okay! Because you were just talking about yourself, so then it means that it doesn’t hurt others, right? So it doesn’t matter what comes out of your mouth, because you only insult yourself, right?...Right?” 

Levi got up. “I guess–I should–I’lljustgotoBarb’sseeyoulaterAsmosorry!” Levi rushed out of the room, leaving only Asmo and his messed up makeup. He gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his beautiful hair and tugging on it. Damn Levi and his dumb brain, who can for some reason never think about how something he might say might affect other people other than himself. A part of Asmo wondered if he was too harsh on his older brother–no, that wasn’t it. Asmo was allowed to feel the way he did. Even if Levi didn’t direct it at him, he still said something that hurt his heart and he was justified to be angry about that.

Asmo gave a short huff, and started to look for makeup wipes to clean up the mess. Whatever, Levi can be his dumb self somewhere else. Maybe when he got back Asmo could explain why he got so angry, but in the meantime he was going to finally finish his morning routine.

~~~

Barbatos pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. The timing he had planned out had gone wonderfully, as the shells for the macarons had just finished baking, while he had just finished all of the different flavored fillings moments ago.

A loud crash and bang caught his attention. Setting the tray down, he looked over with curiosity to see if perhaps Luke or Diavolo came searching for him for one reason or another. Instead there was Leviathan, stacking up bowls and other equipment that he without a doubt had made fall.

“Good morning, Leviathan,” he greeted. “How odd for you to come down here so early in the day. Is there something that you need?”

Leviathan snapped back up, attention all towards the butler. The polite smile on Barbatos’s face etched into one of amusement as the Avatar of Envy steadied himself and his breathing, clearly exhausted from simply traveling over.

“I was–I just wanted to ask about something. Asmo sent me here, and told me to ask you–I guess he got fed up with my annoying questions, or maybe I did something to piss him off again, I tend to do that–but if you’re busy I can come back, because you seem kinda busy and I don’t wanna get in the way of you baking or anything and like it isn’t really that urgent or anything and-”

Barbatos couldn’t help but chuckle, interrupting the younger demon’s ramblings. Leviathan really was an amusing demon to be around. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “I need to wait for the macaron shells to cool off anyway, so I have plenty of free time.” Barbatos dragged out a stool, placed it near the kitchen island, and gestured for Levi to take a seat. The other demon climbed up and went to immediately drum his fingers on the marble countertops. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh. Well, it was just…I was discussing how I might possibly might be asexual with Asmo. And that’s like a whole other problem I have, but then I brought up feeling the same way towards romance and…I don’t know. I guess I just never thought about romance not being an option, but it just sounds so wrong. But thinking about being in one feels wrong too!”

Barbatos titled his head, and gave a hum as he processed those words. “I suppose the first thing I should ask should be why do you see these things as problems?” Leviathan gave a blank stare. He shook his head with a sigh, and reiterated, saying, “You just referred to being asexual and being aromantic–which is expiereincing little to no romantic attraction–as being a problem.”

Leviathan’s eyes widened at that. It was obvious that the demon started to freak out. “No, no not at all! I don’t think–whatever or whoever someone is, I don’t mind! If someone isn’t into sex, then good for them! They shouldn’t have to do anything they don’t want to do, you know? If Satan isn’t interested in sex, then he isn’t interested!”

“So, it’s only a problem and makes someone weird when it’s you who’s aromantic or asexual, then?” Leviathan shifted uncomfortably. Barbatos already knew the answer though–the third-born was always like this. Always so hesitant to accept himself but was always willing to accept others. Always so ready to deprave himself but speak kindly of others. He always blamed his sin for that, but Barbatos knew better. The demon just hated himself, simple as that.

“I don’t…being either of those things is not a problem, of course not.” Leviathan pulled his legs up to tuck under his chin, and Barbatos couldn’t help but wonder how the demon was able to do with the little bit of space given on the stool. “But like…I guess I’m just always the weird one. Why can’t I be like the others? Why do I have to be the one who hates romance and stuff? Why can’t I be like Lucifer or something, you know? Or even Mammon?”

Barbatos debated whether to tell Leviathan the fact that the eldest didn’t have the most exemplary relationship with the idea of romance. But he also knew that Lucifer was a fan of privacy, and wouldn’t be the happiest if he knew that Barbatos had told Leviathan. So instead, Barbatos led with something else. “You know, I myself am aroace.”

Leviathan’s head snapped up, eyes widened a bit. “Is that why Asmo sent me to you?”

“Possibly,” he answered. “Maybe he thought I could answer your questions better. Or maybe your self depreciation hurt him, as well. Just because you say things about yourself doesn't mean it doesn’t affect others. Asmodeus can at times react without thinking, and he was most likely hurt by what you said.”

“But I didn’t say anything! I–All I did was–I…” Leviathan paused, then gave a sigh. He ducked into his jacket. “He’s aromantic too, huh? And–and he thought I was talking about him, right?”

“Like I had said, your brother tends to take things to heart. You can’t blame him if he got upset over what you had said. Even if you were just insulting yourself, you were also insulting Asmodeus in the process.” Leviathan made a disgruntled noise, as he brought his hands up to hide his face. Not that it was needed, for his jacket did the job well enough, but the demon seemed to want to do everything he could to just disappear.

“I’m the worst brother ever!” he groaned. Barbatos gave a sigh, and shook his head. He went towards the different mixtures for the fillings.

“If that’s all you gathered from this conversation, then I can’t help but worry,” he said. But he knew how Leviathan's brain worked, that if he didn’t say anything then he would believe it to be the truth. So he then added, “But no, you aren’t the worst brother. You just need to be more mindful of what you say.”

“Asmo hates me,” the other demon replied, voice muffled from the layers of cloth and arms covering his face.

“He doesn’t hate you, Leviathan. You just need to apologize.” He started to fill the macaron filling into piping bags. “But back to the original topic. I will say just this one thing: whoever you turn out to be, your brothers will support you. They will still care and love you. Just because you aren’t interested in having romantic relationships, or decide that maybe you do want to be in one, or maybe only in queer platonic ones–nothing you can do will take away how much they cherish you.” He paused, trying to recollect his train of thought. “Now where was I…?”

A squeak-like noise made Barbatos turn back around to Levithan. He was still obviously trying to hide face, but the way his shoulders shook and how he attempted to hold in his breath only to release with shudders made it clear he was trying his best to not cry, but was failing to do so. Barbatos couldn’t help but go over and start rubbing the younger demon’s shoulder soothingly, which in turn made Leviathan release a loud sob.

“Now now, Leviathan, no need to cry,” the butler said. He took out a handkerchief and handed it over. Leviathan finally looked up and uncovered his face to see in front of him, and quickly swiped the handkerchief with a shaky “thanks”. He blew his nose into the cloth, and gave another shaky exhale.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why–this is so stupid, why am I–this is all just so stupid.”

“Just give yourself a minute to breathe and calm down,” Barbatos advised. He continued to rub small circles onto his back, as the demon started to try and calm himself. “If you still have questions about anything,” he continued, “then I don’t mind trying to explain to the best of my abilities. I may not be able to answer them very well, because we’re all different people with our own experiences. But I shall still try and help to the best of my ability.” Leviathan gave a nod at that. He awkwardly tried to hand back the handkerchief, even though Barbatos felt like it was obvious enough that he still needed it more than he did. He declined, and so Leviathan was left slowly bringing it back close to his body. Was there anything that the third-born did that was awkward in some sort of way?

“I, um-” Levi cleared his throat. “I still wanna stay around and just…hang out I guess. Ask about a few things I’m still confused about.”

“Of course. And in the meantime, would you like to help me construct these macarons?” And for once since he had arrived, Levi gave a smile. A smile, a shaky one, but a smile nonetheless. He gave a surprisingly enthusiastic nod, and Barbatos shared the smile.

“Good. Let’s get to work then, alright?”

~~~

Asmodeus ignored the sound of the footsteps entering the common room. He ignored the sound of them moving towards behind the couch, behind where Asmo sat as he scrolled mindlessly through Devilgram. He ignored the feeling of arms wrapping around from behind, around his neck that rested against his chest. He ignored the feeling of the demon bumping his forehead against the back of Asmo’s head as a sign of affection. Because he was still angry, and so he of course most certainly ignored the wonderful smell of Barbatos’s fresh macarons that wafted through the air.

“I’m sorry,” Levi said. “Like. Really, really sorry. Like, ultra-mega sorry. Like-”

“I heard you the first time!” Asmo snapped, throwing his phone down into his lap. “But I do not forgive you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, making Asmo wonder if that was the only thing in his brother’s vocabulary. “I really didn’t mean to, honest. I didn’t mean to hurt you or insult you.” Asmodeus sighed. He knew Levi was telling the truth–he never means to hurt people, but his self-deprecation often extended onto others, and this instance was no different. Asmo already knew that Levi didn’t mean it, but hearing how Levi viewed being aromantic as being weird or pathetic or something that he should be upset about, it made Asmo a bit peeved. He knew that everyone had their own views, and thoughts and feelings, but he hated how Levi saw it.

He gave a sigh. “I suppose I overreacted just a bit,” he admitted. “But I’ll only forgive you if you hand over those macarons before Beel is able to smell them.”

“Too late!” came a shout from the stairwell. Mammon came rushing down and into the room. “He’s headin’ down and is about to come in any minute, hurry up and give me some already before he eats all of it!” 

“Gh-Mammon!” Asmo slapped the hand away as he reached over to the bag that sat on the coffee table. “No way! These are Levi’s gifts to me so I can forgive him!”

“Well, actually, Barbatos told me to tell you all that it’s for everyone-”

“For me! So don’t dare take any, you little scoundrel!”

“‘Scoundrel’? So we’re doin’ name callin’ now, eh? Is that it you little-”

“Did I smell Barbatos’s cooking?” Beel hovered in the doorway, a pleased look on his face.

“Yes, but they’re all for me!”

“Oh…” the younger visibly deflated. “But just smelling them has made me hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Beel!” Asmo slapped Mammon’s hand away again, and grabbed the plastic container to hold close to his chest. “I said stop, Mammon!”

“Hey! Didn’t you learn by now to respect authority? As the oldest, I demand you hand them over already!”

“No way!” Asmo looked behind and up at Levi, giving the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Levi, please help me!”

“I-”

“Pleeeaaase?”

“Levs, as the third-oldest, you understand the importance of the hierarchy! Now help me already!”

“What if I promise to only eat some? Then could I have some?”

“No way I’m I trusting you, Beel!”

Levi covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ahh! Just-just shut up! Shut up and let me think!” Asmo frowned, and felt a bit of guilt eat at his heart. It was easy to forget how sensitive Levi was to things like noise, and how easily frazzled he could get.

All that guilt went down the drain though. Flushed away, and replaced with rage and a high-pitched scream as Levi ripped the box away from Asmo and ran out of the room, weaving past Mammon and Beel in the process.

“Why does he always make things difficult?” Mammon groaned. “Whatever. Whatever! Fine! Imma go just buy somethin’ at Madam Scream’s, you guys want anythin’? Keep in mind that, seeing as I am without Goldie, Luci’s payin’.”

Beel lit up again. “Oh, can you order two baker’s dozens of those double chocolate-chip cookies? Those were really good.”

“On it. Asmo, want anythin’?”

“No. No, I’m good,” he answered. He slowly got up, and dusted himself off. “I’ll head back upstairs.” Asmodeus headed up the stairs, the conversation between his two brothers going deaf to his ears. Right now, he was focused on his other brother.

Asmo knocked a little rhythm against Levi’s door. The door cracked open slightly, revealing Levi’s worried eyes peeking through.

“Is Mammon or Beel there?”

“No, they’re gone. Now let me in already, I still expect to have some food as compensation!” 

“Compensation for what? You didn’t even do anything!”

“Other than generously forgiving you?” There was no response from the other side of the door, until it opened up a bit more.

“Fine, come inside. I was just going to give them to Lucifer so he could figure out how to divide it up between all of us, but I guess what Lucifer doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right…?”

Asmo gave a smile and brought up a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “It’ll be our little secret!" He let himself inside the room. Eyes searched for the plastic box, until they finally found the item inside of Levi’s bathtub. “Aha! There it is~”

The demon climbed into the tub, propping his feet up on one of the ends and adjusting the pillow he sat on as he excitedly opened it up on his chest. The incredibly sweet smell invading his senses the second it was open, and his mouth watered for the pastries.

“Hey! Get out of my bed, Asmo!”

“What? No way! This is the only comfortable place in your whole room, Levi!”

“C’mon, get out already!”

“No!” Asmo stayed put, and gave a scream when Levi climbed into the tub. He was pushed to the side, legs drawn up to his chest as he was squished between the cool surface of the tub and Levi. It was definitely not made for two people to sit in it.

“Get out!” he said, slapping Levi’s arm. “Go! Shoo!”

“No way! This is my bed!”

“How about if I give you some macarons?” Levi went quiet, considering it.

“How about we share the macarons with both of us outside of the bed?”

“You mean outside of the tub?”

“I–It’s the same thing, you know it is!” Asmo chuckled as Levi climbed out. He followed suit, climbing out and settling with sitting down at the foot of the tub, crossing his legs and placing the box into his lap. Levi rolled his chair over, leaning over and waiting for a macaron.

Asmo smiled to himself when he finally got a good look at the multi-colored desserts. Different shades of orange, white, and then blue, sorted in that order, made Asmo feel a bit fuzzy inside. Many rows of the same pattern filled the container, many different flavors to try out. Levi picked out one of the orange ones, a huge smile growing on his face when he took the first bite.

“Man, Barb’s the best cook ever!” he stated, throwing the rest of the macaron into his mouth. He happily moved his hands inside of his sleeves and moved them in a quick up-down motion, the clothing flapping in a satisfying movement. Asmo couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and picked out his own macaron.

“I do forgive you, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Like, I actually forgive you. Not just because you gave me these delicious macarons.” Asmo looked up at him, where Levi avoided eye contact, settling with staring at his hands. “I know that you didn’t mean what you said. It stung a bit, but I was overreacting.”

“You–I don’t think you were overreacting,” Levi said. “I think your anger was justified.”

Asmo shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but I know that you were just upset and confused. I was pretty confused when I realized that I wasn’t like everyone else. I didn’t care or want romantic relationships, and I just didn’t get it…so I understand where you’re coming from, Levi. And if you need to talk to anyone or just want to vent, then I’ll be here for you. Promise.”

Levi gave a slow nod, and went to grab another macaron. He nibbled on it, staying quiet. Asmo wondered a bit if the conversation had grown awkward until a tentative voice spoke up. 

“Thank you.”

Asmo beamed at that. “Of course! Anything for my favorite big brother.”

“Don’t try and flatter me, we all know Lucifer is your favorite older brother.” Asmo rolled his eyes at that, and grabbed another macaron.

“Whatever. As long as you know that I’m here for you.”

Levi gave another smile. One that was small, but genuine.

“Yeah. I do.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

[lord-multifandom-murder]

Forever and ever (George Weasley x Reader)

A/N: This is just a self indulgent fic because I didn't have an all in all good week, so........this is fluff supreme, buckle up y'all

Summary: You had a bad day, and George makes it his priority to make you feel better

Warnings: Mentions of an argument, a lil crying and a dash of some of dat angst, a more modern fic really because there's a mention of a smartphone (I know that's not a warning), a legit fuckpiece of fluff really, not very proofread writing

Requests are OPEN!

You were curled up in a ball on your bed in your dorm, with tears smarting at your eyelids. You closed them and let the warm, salty tears slide down the bridge of your nose as you cried as quietly as possible, not to bother any of your friends in the common room.

You had an argument with your mother on the phone, and she didn't stop snapping at you because you didn't do well on a test. You'd usually take it rather well, but on this particular day, you finally couldn't take it anymore. The words she said echoed in your head. Why didn't you get good marks?! I thought you were studying hard?! I keep hearing from the teachers that you daydream in class! Don't keep disappointing me, Y/N, because I'm not in a good mood at the moment!

At those words, you retaliated saying that you didn't have a good day as well, and that she should vent on someone else. And with that, you hung up the phone. New thoughts (mostly self invented) rang through your head. You aren't good enough! You're a disappointment! You're so dumb! Can't even get through a test without low marks! Great, now your mum's angry at you. Way to go.

You whimpered and curled yourself into a tighter ball, letting the tears soak your sheets. You were so focused on trying to cry quietly, that you didn't hear someone knock on the door softly.

"Y/N, love? Are you in here? It's George. Are you okay?"

You wince, hearing your boyfriend's voice. You didn't want him to see you like this, because you knew he would baby you so much. You felt like you didn't deserve him. So, you raised yourself up and answered in the clearest voice you could muster and called: "It's fine, Georgie! I'm okay. You can go, I'm just feeling a little tired,"

George, who was standing outside, could tell that you didn't really sound like yourself. He frowned and opened the door, and was surprised to see you sitting on your bed, puffy-eyed and teary from crying. He came into your dorm and closed the door, hurrying over to you and sitting on the bed.

"Darling? What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? Are you okay?" Questions tumbled out and you sighed. "George, can't you see I'm fine?" you say, but your voice broke. The red head sighed. "Y/N, I know very well that you aren't fine,"

"Well now, that's hurtful!" you tried to joke, but you stopped after seeing George wasn't in the mood. "Love, what happened?" he asks concernedly. You sniffle and tears start gathering slightly. You weren't very comfortable crying in front of people, let alone George, but you made an exception this time.

George hurriedly wrapped his arms around you and let you rest your head in his chest as you cried a little more, tears now soaking his school jumper. He waited until you stopped crying and looked up at him. He smiled gently and wiped your tears away with his thumb. "Do you want to talk about it?" he whispers.

You nod and pout, wiping your eyes like a little child. He smiles. "I'm all ears," So, you told him about your day and your mum's call.

"I'm dumb," you mumble. "Love, you're not dumb! You're the smartest person I know! Why else would I always ask you for prank strategies?"

"But I am! I'm not doing well in my tests," you say. George smiled. "Then I'll help you pass,"

"Really?" you say, surprised.

"Oh come on, I'm not that dumb!" he says in mock shock. You laugh. "Of course not, stupid!"

He gasped dramatically. "'Stupid'?! Oh, now you're just rubbing it in!" You snort, slapping his chest. "All right, all right. I accept your help. Now, I have more pressing matters to attend to. Cuddles?" you ask, giving him grabby hands.

George rolls his eyes. "Oh, alright," he says, kicking off his shoes and climbing under the covers with you. He hugs you close and kisses you softly. You return it and rest your head on his chest. "I love you," he says to you, as you drifted off to sleep.

"I don't care what people say. Forever and ever,"

[djarrex]

Hi everyone, just wanted to address what happened last night along with some other things from before that all tie in together.

There’s multiple parts to the following post - please make sure you read all of it if you’re gonna take the time to even start.

It was midnight and y'all were still jumping in on anon and telling me how I'm awful for not commenting, owning up, or taking responsibility - I should have been in bed. I have a life and job outside this app; and with the several of you in my inbox and it being too late at night to address each, I’m gonna do it now. I can’t not say something about all of this. I just can’t keep quiet and ignore the problem - it’s not fair to you all. Deleting one post already has you guys even more riled up and all I wanted to do was offer something better than a “half-hearted apology” (it was very late at night when I wrote that very short apology, and wanted a redo tbh). 

I really didn't want to make a long post like this. I reached out to a select few on here because I care about them (there's more of you, but like I said, it was at the time after midnight and I was fucking exhausted). but I was being demanded for accountability. So here I am.

Allow me to be real with you all, if that's ok. If it's not, well, idk. First I wanna address all you anons, who, instead of speaking to me one on one about all this, want to criticize me and shame me and my writing when truthfully it feels like you haven't even read more than a handful of my work. I didn’t realize that I write the clones all the same way? That I always make them super aggressive and uncaring and dom? “you write every single clone as so dominant instead as unique individual men with their own personalities” Interesting. See, that right there tells me you haven't read nearly enough of my stuff for me to believe that's true. That's one accusation I absolutely will not back you on because I know it’s inaccurate - saying how I group the clones into some overly-aggressive, and uncaring category - that I always write all of them as mean in bed because they're men of color. And hey, if I do write rough smut - which yeah, it's out there and I write it, as do a lot of you - there are warnings at the beginning, aftercare, dialogue, reader sharing their feelings, and most importantly... consent between the two. That’s what warnings are for, so that you know what you’re going to be reading. That’s why I, as we all do, appreciate warnings listed at the tops of fics; honestly, write them sub or dom or switch or however you want but don’t come at me like that. I’m sorry if I'm coming across as rude because I'm usually not, I’m one of the nicest people you’ll meet, but I will not stand idly by while you chastise my writing (writing that is pretty much the same type of stuff a lot of you write & rb with the same characters) that you haven’t read enough of to back such claims.

Next: Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart,

I get it. Really, I do. I fully understand the problem of whitewashing in SW along with almost everywhere else, and I do not agree with it. It's a huge problem, and it needs to be rectified. Now just because I don't speak publicly about it and opt out of publicly shaming TBB, doesn't mean that I agree with what’s going on. Not everyone is comfortable with sharing their opinions on a subject, no matter what that subject is or which side they're on. You live and you learn when it comes to that. 

It has never been my intention to fetishize POC in my writing, which btw, the same people who are saying that it is my intention are the ones claiming I portray all of the clones as the same, aggressive men, lacking their individuality. It’s a claim that is simply not true, and I know I have followers on here to back me up on that. I know what I've written; how about you check it out and tell me that you don't see the words "soft" or "fluff" or "cuddling" or “gentle” or “tender” within my work linked in my ML. Clone character being a good partner and father? Tender love making? Holding each others faces in their hands? “We/you survived” sex? Taking care of their partner? Saying “I love you” to one another? Confirming the safe word and going slow at first? Oh my - riveting and harsh stuff - totally unacceptable.  

Now: My admittedly problematic writings of Rex + Zygerria,

I went into writing that rp fic totally unaware and unknowing of the true implications. For that, I sincerely apologize. When I posted the NSFW alphabet, that’s when I was called out on that rp fic - not when I first posted it. Which the timeline doesn’t matter, I know that, but it concerns me a little bit that no one spoke up about it sooner - letting me dig myself deeper into a hole that I didn’t realize I was inside of in the first place. I've apologized once, and I know that doesn't negate what happened; I acknowledged my mistake back then, but I suppose that wasn’t good enough. I had asked you, anon, to message me to give me guidance, to teach me on what to do about the fic - you stayed hidden. Well, respectfully, what the fuck? I know we're all adults but don't lecture me and avoid me when I’d literally reached out for guidance on how to properly rectify the issue. I fixed my wording in some of my fics (the things I’ve caught upon rereading them) because I recognized and more importantly learned about and from my mistakes along with the unintentional negative implications of how I wrote those characters. Some of y'all wanna tell me that I "haven't learned"? Who are you, my personal blog police? My professor? My life coach? Are you even my friend? If I'm wrong and haven't learned, then fucking educate me. I worked hard on that rp fic, just like I do with a majority of what I write, but it doesn’t matter because I will delete it knowing that it’s harmful to others and I apologize for inadvertently romanticizing slavery with what I wrote - it was unintentional, and I’m truly sorry to those who have been hurt by it. I know it’s wrong, and there’s no proper excuse for it. Can’t go back in time, but consider it gone now.

Since that first wakeup call, I’ve been working hard to ensure I avoid using certain words and ideas when describing the clones in my fics. If there’s still something you see that isn’t correct or is inappropriate, please tell me! Don’t hold it in but then jump on the “attack M” bandwagon. Private message me, or come peacefully off or on anon, there will be no hard feelings. I don’t mind being corrected when I make a mistake - that’s just part of life, we all make mistakes and we live and learn from them. Making mistakes doesn’t = scumbag human. When you hold your breath and choose not to take the time to guide me, and if I appear to still be making the same mistakes, well, idk. I’m telling you right now that I do not mind if you message me with the good intention of pushing me in the right direction. When you come at me with hostility on anon, well, no thank you. To the anons that came without rage: thank you! I read what you wrote, and I have a better understanding as to how my writing had hurt the lovely followers of mine, and tried to address as much as possible in this post. See, angry mob anons? It costs zero credits to be kind and offer up your thoughts and advice with a good heart. I’m not going to hate you or block you if you try to correct me. I don’t block unless you’re a snoopin’ minor. Just don’t hold a knife to my throat.

Now: Why did I delete the tags and then my response to that anon ask? 

Simply put: I felt awful. Deleting it doesn’t immediately mean I’m hiding from it and ignoring the issue. I wanted to come up with a better apology, explanation, whatever you wanna call it, because my followers deserve that. The ones who enjoy my work, the ones who interact, the ones who I call my friends, the ones who know that I’m a good person. Didn’t want to leave the tags/post floating around all night, giving more people time to sharpen their pitchforks and join the mob while I attempted to sleep. Trust me, I know saying that I had no ill intentions when tagging that post doesn’t make it better nor does it make it go away. I’m just trying to show you my point of view, that I knew immediately how I should not have tagged it that way, so that’s why I deleted them. I corrected my mistake. But y’all are too fucking quick I swear.

One more thing:

I know some of you who had called me out with the passive-aggressive inbox messages are still following me, and for what? You don’t like what I post, which is why one would follow another in the first place, so why bother sticking around? Do you feel like you need to police my blog? You want to be there the literal minute I make a mistake? I’m gonna turn off anon for a bit, so if you wanna discuss, message me. Just know that if you’re going to come at me with knives out, I probably won’t reply to you. 

To conclude:

I’m sorry. Truly sorry for the entire Rex + Zygerria outfit + slaver ordeal with both the fic from a while ago and then the tags from last night. We can’t go back in time; the only option is to correct past mistakes that are able to be corrected, and then move on with new knowledge that’ll aid in me working even harder to ensure my writing isn’t inappropriate or offensive, and doesn’t hurt my followers nor the characters I write for. I’m still going to write self-indulgent filth and fluff, post-order 66 Rex, and other misc shit. I enjoy writing fanfic, as I know a lot of you enjoy reading what I write and love to talk to me about it. I hope that this didn’t come off as me being a bitch, because I’m really not. I enjoy interacting with the handful of people on here that I’d call my friends, and I love reading your reactions and tags to my fics when you’re excited and/or horny (LOL). It’s just after lunch time where I’m at, so I hope you have a great rest of the day/night/morning whatever for wherever you are.  

<3 

M

[kim-ruzek]

CONGRATULATIONS ON HITTING 100K WORDS PUBLISHED!!!!!

I am so stinking proud of you, because you’re amazing and you’ve written almost 100k burzek words?? That’s an extra 100k that wasn’t in this fandom before. That nobody had read. Of scenarios and storylines and beautiful prose that you did.

I was going to try do a “rank your fics” thing, but then I realised like…I have a top three and then everything else moves around depending on my mood. So I’m telling you my top three.

Number one is, as always, Contentedness. I love this fic so so much. I believe it was the first appearance of Ally (whose now my favourite ever original character and sorry not sorry I’ve stolen her multiple times but HOW COULD I NOT???). This fic just…its the epitome of soft burzek for me. Of burzek loving each other and working through their issues and deciding that their love is worth continuing on with. Is worth going through the hardships. It’s worth it all. Plus the teasing Antonio and him not realising Ally is Adam’s daughter! And that beautiful moment of Kim remembering that she had to tell Voight she and Adam were sleeping together (I can never forget it that line is EMBOSSED INTO MY SOUL). And “I’m talking about my granddaughter, not her father.” From Trudy. This was the moment honorary Grandmother!Trudy was born and she will never leave my soul. Ever.

Two and three I keep tossing up which goes first, and honestly if I wrote this tomorrow I’d probably have a different two and three. But number two right now is family we chose. I just…it’s everything. The nails. The love confession. MAKAYLA AND THE BADGE AROUND HER NECK. All of it. The gentle way they talk to her and explain about Kim. Not glossing over that everything is Not Ok between Kevin and Adam (not that you ever would), and the moment Kim just holds onto her family because she’s survived and they’re there and she loves them so damn much and they love her. It’s…I cry every time. Every. Single. Time.

Three is something’s gone terribly wrong. I remember the day you came up with it, and I just went back through our messages and found the one where I worked out (from no clues) what the twist would be and why Adam was missing. We knew the braincell was a thing anyway, but I think that just cemented our knowledge of its genius. But this fic…this stupid, amazing, awe inspiring fic. I love it so much. Like so incredibly much. (AND HOW IS IT TWO MONTHS OLD ALREADY????) It’s just…it has everything. Suspense, Al’s POV (that you write so well), that moment where Kim has to tell Al that they had sex that morning and oh god I could feel the cringe and embarrassment through the page. Bob being an ass. Voight being protective, AL being protective. Antonio listening to Kim and realising she’s right and getting the information out of Bob. Roman bashing. Kim standing up for herself and telling Trudy she can’t work with him anymore. AND THEN SHE GETS OFFERED INTELLIGENCE AND SHE DESERVES IT. That moment is so gorgeous. And Al turning up at the end and telling Adam he’d have kept the secret? Inviting them for dinner? Ugh it’s EVERYTHING. ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.

Like…this was so hard and I was going through your fic list and every single one I was like “I LOVE IT” and I could have written lines about every single one. But I think you’d have killed me. But, y’know, duty. Love you, and I can’t wait for the next hundred thousand published words. Folks, you have no idea what Ree’s gonna hit us with.

Not me SOBBING MY HEART OUT AT THIS AGAIN 😭😭😭 I'm questioning if I'll be able to answer this, with how much it reduces me to (happy, ofc) tears each and every time I read over it.

Your pride in me over hitting 100k posted means so so much to me. You're literally my number one cheerleader and as I've said to you so many times, I never would've even gotten close to this amount if it wasn't for you!!! I love you so much and thank you for supporting and encouraging all my most ridiculous ideas.

Now for y'all-- I could've guessed what Cíara's top three of my fics are bc they never hesitate to rave about them and just...so many days they'll be like "oh I reread [this] again and I love it" and I'll cry bc that's the best thing you can tell me.

To respond to your lovely, lovely words now: Cíara, I will be forever overjoyed and amazed how much you love contentedness. You know how I feel about it, that there's that disconnect to it, even though it has some of my favourite lines in it. And my fics are my children, and I feel bad that I can't love that fic as much as I'd like, but I don't feel as bad knowing it gets so much love from you.

And yes!!!! That is the first appearance of Ally!! And I'm going to take this time to express just how much I LOVE THAT YOU LOVE ALLY!! Like the fact that she's your favourite oc and the fact that you've literally stolen her so many times,,,,, it makes me so happy. Like so overwhelmingly happy bc I love her and ugh. Just-- all the feels. Thank you for loving what my brain comes up with and making me not feel so weird for making who Burzek's baby would be.

And I just love love love that you love Kim remembering telling Voight and all that awkwardness. It's one of my first and favourite thoughts I ever made for Burzek and I can't wait until I finally write the scene, not only because that'll mean I'm writing my s7 fix it but so you can have another scene of that to love like you love that line.

I love honorary grandmother!Trudy (or, how she says it in second chances, just grandmother Trudy, their her grandkids blood or not) and I'm so happy you do too.

Family we chose is, I think, one of my favourite fics I've ever wrote. I love all my fics but this one... I love it so much. It was born out of just one (1) photo of Paddy with painted nails and us two screaming about it together and I just... I love it. And I love LOVE that you do too, and all the moments you love about it-- like the badge scene. It's just,,,, it's overwhelming to think about how much I love this fic and that you love it just as much bc that's just incredible and I never thought anyone could love my writing as much as you do.

HOW IS SOMETHING'S GONE TERRIBLY WRONG ALREADY TWO MONTHS OLD????? It feels like only like,,, two weeks ago I was writing it. It never fails to make me laugh and be so in awe that this came out of me being tipsy and then telling you my stupid tipsy ideas. It is my longest, most cohesive fic with some of my all-time favourite scenes and it was made just because I drunkenly laughed at the thought of Kim having to tell Al that she was dating Adam-- and, ofc, the sex moment.

And all the scenes you mentioned... I love it so much and I'm so happy and will never stop being so happy that you love it too. And I'll forever associate it with the moment that we got confirmation, beyond reasonable doubt, that we share a Braincell. The way you just guessed the Bob bits... It's so incredible and I'm so happy we share a braincell.

This ask made me so emotional and teary and I just-- I love you so so much. You are such an incredible person and I'm so happy that I know you. And look-- you made me talk about loving my writing, you made me celebrate!!!! I love that you always, so fiercely and caringly, encourage me to love what I've created, to never be ashamed and put down the ridiculous ideas I come up with, that you tell me that my ideas are self indulgent but that's exactly why I should write them.

And finally, I love how excited you are for all the ideas to come. FILB and FSK and undercover Adam and the Angst monster fic, and Sean Roman is abusive, and Bloodtypes and skater!au and after highschool!au and my many WS!As and all the others that doesn't yet have names.

I love how I come to you with silly ideas, sometimes just so vague-- like with co parents Burzek-- and you just help me grow and nurture them. Without judgement, and with such enthusiasm, even when it comes from my ridiculous tipsy mind.

I never could've gotten here without you, and I won't get to 200k without you, and I'm so happy that you're cheerleading me and just being my friend. I love you so, so much and thank you so much for this and being in my corner, for being the other half of my brain, my writing buddy.

[cocopineo]

3:30 AM

Having a baby for the first time isn't an easy task. After having their little girl Za'Niyah it leaves Seraphina becomes frazzled. Noticing his wife's worries Xiang decides to talk to her on it.

✾ Rating: Everyone (tho a lil suggestive near the end)

✾Type: Fluff/Straight Up Tooth Rottening Fluff (very)

Word Count: 1000+

✾Characters: Xiang belongs to @princesscallyie, Seraphina and Za'Niyah belong to me

✾Author's Note: First Future AU fic y'all. I wanted to write some Hexpanda fluff (self indulgent ngl 💀)

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

Everything was quiet in the Akande household...almost too quiet. Xiang awoke from his slumber looking at the bright clock reading "3:30 AM". Looking to his right he noticed the absence of his wife. Letting out a groan he sluggishly got himself up and trudged to the nursery. Sera had been doing this for the past couple of months ever since their little one came into the world. It wasn't even when Za'Niyah would fuss wanting to feed or in need of a diaper change. Sera would go to her little nursery when she was sound asleep and stay there making sure her baby was well and safe.

Xiang wasn't bothered by her checking up on the little one, but seeing as she continuously did it until the crack of dawn it left her exhausted. She had broken the number one rule when Za'Niyah was born to not exhaust herself. He created a whole schedule for night shifts on taking care of Za'Niyah, but Sera had let Xiang sleep through the days he was to care for her. Sure he coulda stopped her anytime and he knew about it, but he wanted to see how long she'd go and to put it simply she went way too far.

Xiang stood at the door seeing his wife peer over the little one's crib and noticed her mumbling under her breath.

"4,800." She mumbled while counting it in her fingers.

"Phina." Xiang mumbled groggily.

Startled, Seraphina called a bolt of hot pink energy shot from her finger. The bolt hit her daughter's mobile causing the stars and moon to float into the air forming a galaxy.

"Shoot."

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

Seraphina quickly waved her finger counter clockwise undoing her transformation, and quickly swiveled her head to see her daughter still sound asleep.

"Xiang you can't do that, I coulda blast our little angel! Who knows I could have turned her into a slug Not to mention you made me lose my breathe count she's at 4,800 at the moment that could be 4,880 now." Seraphina whispered loudly.

Xiang quirked an eyebrow and walked toward her. He wrapped his strong arms around her and looked down at her with a straight face.

"Yes you could have but you coulda easily turned her back. Though I find it more surprising that my wife has been here for the past...well 3 months hogging our little one at night.-"

"Xiang-"

"And also getting a lack of sleep not letting me take the night shift so she can get some well deserved rest. Also Sera why are you spending two hours checking her breathe count she is healthy. The doctor said so from yesterday's check up don't worry so much love." Xiang interrupted her protest and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Here she was pushing herself to the bone, just like how she was when they were teenagers.

He lifted her chin up and gave her a tired smile.

"Always so stubborn. Sera you know you don't have to take care of Za'Niyah alone right. I'm here and I wanna make sure she and especially you are healthy and happy. She is my daughter too." He said looking at her lovingly.

Seraphina nuzzled into his neck and grumbled. She puffed her cheeks out and glared at him

"I knew it was too good to be true to get past you. Darn...smart-handsome...okay I can't come up with anything, but damn you I was trying to get away with this." Her cheeks puffed up more while she huffed and she crossed her arms in Xiang's hold.

They stood there for a moment basking in the domesticity. They both looked at their sleeping baby. She looked like a perfect mix of them but Xiang's features stuck out more. Especially the eyebrows. She was only four months but her personality was already coming through. Seraphina nuzzled more into Xiang's neck basking in his warmth as she tapped her fingers on his chest. It felt odd to have such warm and tender moments, not that Sera didn't want these moments. It was with the person she crushed and pinned for, and after everything that happened. The situation only brought them closer and somehow they were able to continue growing and even start a family. She fixated on his wedding ring as she was being held in his embrace. Being the sensitive that she is, Sera sniffled a little in his shoulder feeling a tear fall down.

"I'm sorry I just wanted you to get your rest. You help so much around here. I just don't want you working so hard." She mumbled.

Xiang cupped her face and stared at her, wiping her tears away. He felt a little warmth rise in his heart, he thought even having a kid just made her more pretty.

"Sera honey no need to cry or apologize. I just want to make sure we're working together to give Za'Niyah...and potentially our other kids a good life. You're doing great Phina I couldn't ask anymore from you, besides our little Gōngzhǔ is getting stronger each day." He gave her a gentle kiss and another. After a couple more kisses he gently gave Za'Niyah a kiss on the cheek and rubbed it softly with his knuckle.

Sera followed his action and both of them let out a small giggle. Sleepiness was edging it's way to the couple as they felt their eyes grow heavy. Maybe it was time to leave the nursery and get some shut eye before sunrise.

"Now come back to bed it's almost 4 and she's gonna wake up anytime soon. We can discuss what we'll do in the morning about the baby situation.Besides you're in a bit of trouble." Xiang gave a little growl, hooking his finger in the loops of her robe dragging her from the nursery. Letting Za'Niyah get some peace and quiet. Seraphina being oblivious stopped mid track in the hallway wondering what he meant.

"Trouble-I thought I was okay?" She looked at him worried.

It was endearing how a straight A student from birth to now couldn't pick up on his small flirts. Though maybe that's what made it better. Xiang gave a lustful look while kissing her hand, earning a meep from his wife.

"Xiang." Seraphina felt her body get hot and felt a hand near her bottom. Xiang gave a lustful look while kissing her hand, earning a meep from his wife.

Xiang leaned in for a kiss until a wail was heard through the house. Za'Niyah had woken up, Sera gave a weak laugh and slumped on his shoulder. As Xiang could only give a sigh to the current situation. Seraphina pecked his cheek and pinched his cheek groggily smiling.

"Maybe another time Papa Bear."

[dreamcrow]

Hiya! I hope all is well! Just wanted to pop by and say I really admire how you're showing your writing/editing process! I'm curious to ask, how did you build the discipline and self-control to not post everything as soon as it is finished?

oh wow!! i’m so flattered to hear this. to be honest, i started posting about my wips mainly as a selfish/vanity endeavor, so i’m always tickled when i see people interacting with the little fragments i put out (・◇・　) 

so on the one hand i’m a little surprised to see you ask this, because whenever i post something into my wip tag i’m always like “UGH jeez crow you big needy baby why can’t you just wait ‘til you get the finished thing posted” lol. i love posting little bits of whatever—good bits (quotes, scenes, stuff i know will stay into the final), memery (that one post with gandalf and frodo and the kronk meme), even just frustration/yelling about word counts, plot structure, etc.—because seeing people’s interactions with them makes me feel like, ah: i’m not in this alone! other people think this is good, i can do this! ( *•̀ᴗ•́*)و so like… “discipline” and “self-control” are words i am very flattered to hear applied to my writing process lol 

in terms of the delay between finishing my original draft (about a month ago?) and posting staggered updates to ao3 (now/the next few months): i guess the short answer to your question is…i recently decided: i’m not going to write for other people any more. instead, i’m going to write for me. which i realize is pretty much the opposite of what i just said! but what i mean by that is: i used to just write things, scramble to polish them just enough to be readable, and then publish them in the hopes of getting any kind of feedback. then i’d feel like they sucked, because they were rushed, and get frustrated at myself, because i know my writing could be better, and then i’d just get trapped in a vicious cycle. that progressed to getting so hung up on the thought of how people would react to my writing i ended up obsessing over reactions that hadn’t even happened yet, good or bad, and i would just be paralyzed. i’d have tons of great ideas, maybe even start a draft here and there, but i’d be too afraid of other people’s reactions to actually develop them beyond the barest stages, and more often than not i ended up just writing…nothing. (like, i guarantee you, if this were about five years ago? two years ago? i would not be writing this fic. i almost certainly would not even have finished a draft this long.)

which is boring! at least to me. what’s the point in having all these sweet sandboxes if you never invite anyone else to play in them? but to do that, first, you have to have a sandbox you actually want to play in. i’m usually lucky enough to come up with pretty good initial concepts, so most of what i’m doing now, in editing—aside from, like, word choice, spelling, grammar, etc.—is making sure i would want to read the story that i’m writing. is it (basically) cute? is it (at least occasionally) funny? do the characters i want to smooch, smooch? (well, no…but it’s a slow burn. that’s what the maybe-sequel is for.) all of which as i say it sounds very self-indulgent—but imo, what else is the point of fanfiction? sure, the first draft’s gonna suck; it’s gonna suck no matter what it’s about! the second draft’s probably gonna suck a little, too. them’s just the breaks. the trick, that took me years and years to learn, is pushing through the suck to find the wheat amongst the chaff.

so instead of lingering in eternal pursuit of unattainable perfection, i’d rather “settle” for something “imperfect,” but polished, and fun, and enjoyable. now, after realizing i don’t need my writing to be perfect, i’ve started to move on to wanting it to be fun. if it’s not fun to me, there’s no guarantee it’ll be fun to anyone else. that’s why i’m spending so much time fine-tuning this story: i’ve gotten the draft done, i post little excerpts here and there to let y'all know what i’m doing, and i still want to share these dorks with everyone…i just wanna spiff em up a little, first. :)

anyway uh, this ended up not actually being a very short answer at all… but i hope it answered at least part of your question OTL 

of course, ymmv! maybe your writing process gives you something you’re happy with much earlier than mine does. that’s cool! that’s fine! this is just what i’ve come up with after a very long time writing/“writing”/not writing/gathering the energy to try again. after spending so long feeling anxious and stressed and bad about it…i’m really looking forward to enjoying fandom again.