Chilchuck being crass/horny/dirty-minded compilation

Thank you @lucky-fy for the french panel! He himself made a more in depth post about it here, but I tried concisely explaining it in ALT text.

More debatable ones under cut

🤨 innuendo about womanizers? What’s with that face? Also him flinching at the first sound of Marcille bathing. Could have added the extra about him wondering about her bathroom habits but let’s not go there today lol. Seems like he tends to visualize stuff he hears, and to jump to conclusions.

enclosed intentions / crosshair gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: amid your growing feelings for the silver-haired sniper, you and crosshair are paired together on a mission that goes awry, which brings to light intentions you've been aching to know.

word count: 9,934 (pHEW!!)

warnings: near-death experience (everyone lives). landslide. heavy storms. enclosed spaces. minor injury. minor injury description. making out. light angst.

been wanting to write another crosshair fic for a while bc he's my GUY and i love him!!! season 3 is only fuelling the burning fire he stokes in my chest. i hope you enjoy this! strap in! it's a long one! (sorry if there are any errors, i've edited this but it's so long it's entirely possible that i missed some <3)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

More often than not, Clone Force 99 was sent on dangerous missions – missions too specialised for the regular battalions and squads that filled the Grand Army of the Republic. The missions that troubled Jedi Generals regarding the potential loss of men. But Clone Force 99 and their specialised skills took on those missions with ease, enthusiasm even.

You were about to embark on another one of those missions.

When you’d first joined the GAR as a medic, you’d heard rumours about the squad of defective clones and their enhanced skills, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by their reportedly unbroken mission success.

When Echo walked into your medbay after he’d been rescued from Skako Minor and you were the first to check over him – making him feel comfortable after years of prodding and inhumane treatment – it only made sense for you to join the team as a field medic to continue to treat him and the other members of the squad.

Though they were initially dubious of the idea of a nat-born joining their ranks, they had always been a misfit crew – you were only another addition to that, and it wasn’t long before your presence with the squad felt like being at home.

You got on with each of the members well, even if they grumbled and complained about your regularly scheduled medical check-ups after missions.

Tech was a great help in collating the medical files he’d made from when he acted as the informal medic. You joked along with Wrecker, who often used you as an alternate barbell, lifting you over his head to warm up before a mission. Hunter often conferred with you before mission briefings to go over any hazards that could harm them. Echo was probably your strongest bond, the trust that existed between you both created a level of closeness not shared with the other members of the squad.

But Crosshair…

You’d soon discovered that Crosshair was weary of anyone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and you joining Clone Force 99 – and in such constant close quarters, meant your relationship with the sharpshooter was a little more distant than the others.

You tried not to let it bother you so much, but it was hard when you were joking with Wrecker, and you could feel Crosshair’s discerning enhanced eyes on you. You often ignored his gaze as best you could, but sometimes you would look over at him, and hold his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked away.

You wish you knew what those looks meant. You would lay in your bunk at night, and think about it, trying to piece together any patterns and figure out why Crosshair’s eyes never seemed to truly leave you.

Despite the distance between you both, it didn’t deter your intrigue about him. There was something about him that drew your attentions towards him.

If you didn’t feel his eyes on you, your eyes would find him. He was so fascinating to watch. Everything he did, he did with purpose; intention. Nothing about Crosshair was insignificant. Every word, every gesture, every look held meaning. You liked trying to figure it out, but you had yet to decipher much of it – especially when it was directed at you. He was like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved, hiding all his answers in disappearing ink, you had to hold him up to the light to try and unravel him. You wished he would let you, but his terse demeanour kept you at bay - not wanting to disturb what balance you had.

So you were content to watch him from a distance. He was methodical about everything. Cleaning his rifle the same way after every mission, never missing a step, always performing each of them in the same order. His armour went on the same way. You would watch how his toothpicks would always dangle from his lips as he cleaned his prized weapon, and you would almost be hypnotised by the way he moved the wooden stick between his teeth. You spent so much time staring at his mouth, that you could probably draw it from memory.

He was magnetising.

Whenever you needed to perform a medical check on him, you would do so quietly and draw it out, as if trying to soak up every moment of the closeness to him, catalogue it all.

When it came to checking his hands, you would gently hold them in your palms and gently massage the joints that could get cramped from holding the rifle tightly. You would check the nerves with a light prick on each fingertip and around the palm. Those examinations were so tense, his eyes on you the entire time watching your every move in the tiny medbay on the Marauder. You could barely focus in that room, there was nowhere to hide from his sharp eyes. And when you dared meet his gaze, his eyes would hold yours in a way that left you breathless and you were never able to look him in the eyes for very long. They’d look right into yours, an expression dancing in them you could never place.

But he never said anything to you – not unless you asked him a question about pain. But you’d think about each interaction for days afterwards.

Your silent exchanges filled your head at night, spilling over into your dreams. Dreams where those hands you’d just inspected in the waking world would be holding you tightly, that mouth you’d stared at brushing against your cheek and neck, whispering things you pretended not to remember once you woke. You’d wake up from those dreams confused, still feeling the ghost of his touches on you. It didn’t hit you until several dreams later that that initial intrigue had given way to feelings much deeper; to an intense crush that only seemed to build the longer you spent with Clone Force 99.

If anyone else noticed, they never said anything. You carried on as normal and hoped Hunter’s heightened senses didn’t pick up on the way your face heated or your heartbeat increased when Crosshair was near.

Except the silence between you broke a few days ago.

After the last mission, you were scheduled to do the weekly checks on the squad. You always left Crosshair until last, knowing he liked to clean his rifle as soon as the mission debrief was over. When you called him into the tiny room, he sat down on the bench, and you completed the first part of the check-up smoothly.

It was when you were massaging one of his hands, loosening the stiffness with your own fingers, that you felt his close around yours.

You had stilled and slowly looked up at him. His brown-eyed gaze met yours and you felt the air get sucked out of your lungs. You watched his eyes flick between yours, his throat working as his fingers were warm around yours. He was holding your hand, and it was warm and strong despite its slenderness. It was such an innocent gesture, and yet the sensation of his touch made your face burn and heat unfurl in your chest as your feelings for the sniper were unleashed in full force. You didn’t know what to do, but you would be lying if you didn’t like the feel of his fingers around yours. But this was Crosshair – the Crosshair who barely spoke to you, who watched you like he was analysing your every move.

“A-am I hurting you?” you managed to stammer out.

Crosshair blinked, seemingly jolting himself out of a trance and pulled his hands away roughly, frowning. “No.” His voice was like gravel, and he stood up and quickly left the room, check-up unfinished.

You had no idea what had happened, what you had done, what he had done, but you stood in that room trying to quell your racing heart for ages before you worked up the nerve to emerge. You spent that night thinking about the warmth of his fingers around yours and the way his throat bobbed like he wanted to tell you something.

What was it that he wanted to say? You knew Crosshair was always intentional in everything he did, so what was his intention with holding your hand like that?

Now, as the Marauder flew into a planet you couldn’t remember the name of, you felt those brown eyes on you from where Crosshair sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, his arms crossed and toothpick between his lips. Echo helped Tech guide the ship as Wrecker bench-pressed Gonky in the corridor. Hunter stood nearby as you held onto the back of Tech’s pilot seat as the ship flew into the planet’s atmosphere.

Since joining the squad a mere two months ago, you had been to more planets than you ever thought you would visit in your entire lifetime, but you had never seen anything like this.

The sky was full of enormous floating rocks, with thick greenery on top. You didn’t know how they stayed floating like this.

“This place is unbelievable,” you murmured. “How is this possible?”

“The rocks are held up by the planet’s unique gravity, creating a balanced pull that tethers the rock to its place. Think of them as miniature planets that exist within the atmosphere,” Tech explained.

You hummed in amazement as Tech flew past them all and steered towards the planet’s surface, which lay beneath a thick bank of dark clouds. The clouds gave way to rocky terrain, with a mountain range that jutted up from the ground haphazardly, not unlike their floating counterparts, as well as canyons and valleys. The whole planet seems to be rocks in various states. Tech landed the ship in a clear area and then everyone turned to Hunter.

“So, what’s the plan, Hunter?” Wrecker called out, finally giving Gonky a rest and placing him back on the ground.

Everyone gathered around a holomap Hunter had brought up. You felt Crosshair slide in next to you, his crossed arms grazing yours. Heat prickled your skin, the memory of the warmth of his fingers coming to life again, and you shifted slightly, drawing your arms closer to your body. You looked up at him but for once, his gaze wasn’t on you, but on the blue graphics in front of him. Your face burned. It was embarrassing how much of an effect he had on you, and even more so now after that moment in the medbay. He seemed to have completely forgotten about it, and here you were still having phantom feelings of the way his fingers wrapped around yours.

“We divide our squad,” Hunter begins. “Break off into pairs. The mineral we’ve been sent to recover is located across this entire sector, but according to Tech, not all of it will be viable.”

“There is a very narrow window in which the mineral is usable, and it will be difficult to find. But we will need to be cautious. The viable mineral is highly volatile when handled. And there’s an incoming storm headed this way, and due to the unique gravitational field on this planet, the storms here are quite lethal,” Tech tapped on his datapad.

You took a deep breath in. It appeared there was a lot that could go wrong.

Hunter nodded. “I can feel it. We’ll need to move fast, so let’s get going. Echo, you’re with me in the Badlands. Tech and Wrecker, you head west for the Valley. And that leaves Crosshair with N’edee up in the Mountains. Comm if you find any viable mineral and triangulate your position as best you can for reference before extracting as much as possible. Then head back to the Marauder where we’ll reconvene. Questions?”

Everyone shook their head. “The terrain is tough out there, so let’s try to avoid N’edee having to patch up any injuries,” Hunter added, sending you a smile. Everyone nodded before Hunter signalled everyone to move out.

N’edee was the little Mando’a nickname they’d appointed you. It meant ‘no bite’. After you’d first joined, you’d witnessed your first ever disagreement between Crosshair and Hunter and, not used to their scuffles yet, tried to mediate between them. They were so amused it stopped the argument and earned you the name – since you’d rather try to keep the peace instead of letting them fight it out.

Now, you knew better, but the name stuck. You wished you hated it, but Crosshair’s smirk as he called you it the first time was the first time he ever sort of smiled at you.

And the last.

The squad grabbed their gear, and you strapped your med pack to your back and holstered a blaster you barely ever used. You felt your whole body go into overdrive, not only because of the risk of the mission but also because you were paired off with Crosshair. The thought of being so close; just the two of you sent nerves running through you. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to ask what happened in the medbay, and try and sort it out and move forward, but you didn’t have that kind of closeness with Crosshair. There was no way you felt comfortable bringing up the way he held your hand – this was an important mission, and you didn’t want to risk ruining it by making Crosshair uncomfortable and clam up so tight you’d lose the modicum of trust you had.

Whenever intention he’d had, you weren’t destined to ever know what it was. So, you’d just have to take a page out of his book and pretend it never happened.

You made your way down the Marauder’s gangplank to find Crosshair waiting for you, helmet under his arm and holding the barrel of the sniper with his free hand as the hilt rested on the ground. He was the only one there, the others had already started their treks. You quickened your steps down as he looked over at you, heat blooming up your neck.

“Sorry,” you told him. Crosshair shook his head, either dismissing the apology or disappointed in your slowness to get ready – you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go, the storm’s moving quickly,” he informed in that way of his. He placed his helmet on and started walking. You watched him walk away, not looking back at you as his long legs carried him quickly through the rocky ground in the direction of the mountain range.

“Try and keep up,” he called back, and you huffed, adjusting your med pack and jogging after him.

Crosshair kept a quick pace as you both walked, and his height didn’t help. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner Tech provided you with and your footsteps were the only sound between you both. You tried to keep up as best you could as you approached the base of the mountain range, but you were still lagging a couple of metres behind him.

You had been worried about the awkwardness a conversation about what happened in the medbay would bring, and yet you were not even close enough to have one.

You huffed, a light sheen of sweat covering your brow, as you stepped over a bunch of rocks, moving between them as best you could, looking down at your feet to ensure you didn’t fall. The weather was beginning to change, and you knew the storm was getting closer as the wind picked up and nearly knocked you off balance a few times. But you had still to find any viable mineral. You looked at the scanner and saw it was indeed picking up signs of the mineral, but none of it was suitable – either too old or too young a sample. You sighed. This was going to take longer than you thought, and you only hoped you had more luck once you reached the mountains, and that the storm would hold off.

“Watch your step,” Crosshair called back to you. You looked up to watch him as he stepped on a boulder and jumped down into what must’ve been a small ditch at the foot of the mountain range. You frowned and kept walking. As you got closer, you were surprised as you realised he was waiting for you. His helmet was trained on you as you reached the rock and you tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to you. You stepped on top of the boulder, the wind whipping around you as his gaze tilted up at you. For once, you towered over him. You couldn’t help but smile playfully at him.

“So, this is what the world must look like for you,” you joked, trying to ease the tension that was still thick between you.

Crosshair let out a small scoff at your joke before holding out his hand. “Hurry up.”

You widened your eyes at his extended hand, your eyes flicking to it and then back to his visor. After the medbay, you hardly imagined he’d be offering a hand to you again in a clinical setting, let alone to help you descend a boulder. You looked at his outstretched hand, letting a moment pass as you waited for him to retract it, but he didn’t.

This gesture was intentional.

You slowly placed your hand in his. His hand was as warm and strong as it was several days ago, and the familiarity of it made your insides jolt as you felt it wrap around your palm. The nerve endings in your hand tingled in excitement as they ignited from his touch. Heat coiled its warmth through your whole body as you crouched down to a sitting position, doing your best not to topple over not only from the wind. He helped you slide off the edge down to where he was standing, his hand steadying you.

You wobbled on your feet slightly as you landed, and you looked up at him, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet right now so you could discern his steely gaze. Though you had a feeling his bare face still would not betray anything of what was going on in his head.

Was he acknowledging what happened? Or was he just being considerate of the terrain?

Before you could open your mouth with a ‘thank you’, he let go of your hand and started walking up a pathway that seemed to wind up the mountain.

You guessed it was not the former.

You took in a shaky breath, body tingling with the remnants of his touch as you felt its cold absence and started after him; scanner poised as you walked.

The pathway up the mountain was wide enough to walk on, but too narrow to walk side by side comfortably without worry of falling over the edge. So, you trailed behind Crosshair once again, who had now slowed down that the route had grown more precarious. You clenched your jaw as you followed his steps carefully, avoiding any loose rocks as you walked. You tried not to think about the increasing ascension of the mountain, the ground below getting smaller and smaller the higher you both trekked as you continued to scan the side of the mountain for any trace of a viable source of the mineral, but still, there was nothing.

The higher you moved the wind that whipped around both your bodies increased as the clouds rolled in. You had to move your hand alongside the mountain as you waked, too afraid you’d blow away as the gusts of wind threatened to knock you over.

You’d been walking for a few hours by now and with the weather getting worse, the constant pace was starting to wear on you; arms and legs sore and feet aching, face stinging. You looked out over the cliff and saw you were almost halfway up, and the sky was getting darker as the storm continued to draw closer. Every time you looked, it seemed to be moving towards you quicker, so as much as you wanted to stop and rest, you knew that you couldn’t – especially when you looked ahead at Crosshair and saw he didn’t seem to show any signs of exhaustion.

Though you knew clones had been engineered to withstand increased levels of physical exertion, you still felt inadequate not being able to keep up. Even after two months with the squad, you still weren’t used to the physicality of the missions. You weren’t initially trained as a field medic, but you still didn’t want to look like you couldn’t handle this simple mission – even if it was more gruelling than you anticipated. So, you gritted your teeth and kept walking, despite the way your body protested with each step.

Crosshair began to slow before he stopped and turned to look at you. “Picking up anything?”

You shook your head and hoped you didn’t sound as puffed out as you felt. “Nothing viable. Not even a false read.”

Crosshair grumbled. “Another wild bantha chase.”

You tried to sound upbeat, but you weren’t fooling anyone. “Maybe the others have had more luck?”

“Maybe,” Crosshair said, his helmeted face drifting from you to the sky. He removed his helmet and scowled as the storm drew closer and closer to your position on the mountain. It was close enough now that you began to see flashes of lightning strike within the clouds, and you jolted when a crack of thunder sounded like it was almost on top of you.

“The storm is too close,” he said, shaking his head in concern.

“I know. Should we head back to the Marauder?”

“There’s no time. We need a pickup,” Crosshair sighed and placed his helmet back on, pressing the side of his helmet. “Hunter, do you copy?”

You watched him, hand gripping the mountain as the wind grew stronger with each passing second. You were starting to feel spits of rain hit your skin as more thunder and lightning struck. Your body was shaking with exhaustion and all you wanted to do was lie down in a safe place and fall asleep.

“Wrecker? Do you copy? Tech? Echo? Hunter, are you there?” Crosshair spoke into his comm, his voice getting harder with every word. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t reach them. There’s too much atmospheric interference with the storm, maybe even the gravity too.”

You looked at him and tried not to sound panicked, but you knew your face betrayed you anyway. “What do we do?”

A crack of thunder sounded, and it was like the sky was splitting open. The mountain shook under your feet, and you fell to your knees, yelping. You felt Crosshair crouch next to you, a hand on your back to steady you. You looked up at him as the rain started to pelt down heavily on you both. You tried to shield your face, but the rain was so heavy it felt like knives cutting as it hit the skin of your face.

Crosshair hooked a hand under your arm and hauled you up. “We have to move.”

“We need to get off this mountain!” You shouted over the rain.

“We need to find shelter. Come on,” Crosshair skirted you in front of him and you both started to run up the path in the pouring rain. You held a hand against your brow to try and see, but the rain and wind intensified more than you thought possible, blurring your vision.

“Crosshair, I can’t—”

You slipped on a rock loosened by the wet ground. You cried out and fell forward, landing on your hands harshly. You felt your palms sting as you tried to get to your feet, but Crosshair slid his hands under your armpits and lifted you just as there was a flash of bright light, and the mountain shook again, this time more violently. It felt like the lightning had hit the mountain this time, and when you tried to look up to check, your worst fears were confirmed as the sound of rocks tumbling began to get louder over the heavy rain. Panic coursed through your veins.

“Go!” Crosshair yelled, hand steady on your arm as you both ran, him pulling you forward. You could feel rocks landing behind you and you tried to run faster, skin numb from the rain.

“There’s a cave up ahead! Hurry!” Crosshair shouted as he led you towards the mouth of the cave. Your thighs and calves burned, and Crosshair pulled you inside just as rocks fell and covered the entrance of the cave, trapping you both inside.

You fell to your knees, catching your breath as you looked around and realised how dark it was. You’re eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so could barely see anything, but you heard Crosshair’s body hit the ground nearby as he sat down, grunting as he took his helmet off. His breath moved quickly too as you blinked and tried reaching out to see where he was.

“Crosshair?” you said, patting the hard ground next to you until you found his knee.

“I’m here,” he said, placing a hand over yours. You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled around yours. “You okay?” He asked, his voice raspy.

Your heartbeat which had only just started to slow, picked up again as he held your hand again. How many more times was this going to happen? Would you ever not freak out when he touched you now? Was that his intention?

You swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You felt the muscles in his hand flex. “Yeah.”

You took in a shaky breath and let him hold your hand again, relishing in the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours for a moment, so warm and solid. The feel of his knee under your palm, a part of the body you had originally thought completely savoury until this very moment. After a moment too long of no sound except the roaring rain on the other side of the rock, you cleared your throat before you felt around you with your other hand. “I can’t see.”

“I can.”

You blushed profusely and hoped to the Force you didn’t look as bewildered as you felt. “Right. Of course.”

Crosshair slowly let go of your hand but made a point of keeping your empty palm on his knee, like he knew you needed to feel him close by.

The word intentional flashed in your mind.

Your stomach turned over at the gesture and you wiped your face with your other hand, shoulders beginning to shake. You heard Crosshair take off his pack and scramble through it, pulling out a small light that he usually placed on the end of his rifle. He clicked it on, and you shielded your eyes, before blinking your vision clear. Now you could see Crosshair’s face half illuminated, his brow was creased as he held out the light to you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. You pointed it around the cave and realised it was not so much a cave, but an oversized cavity in the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and it looked like its width was only a little bigger than Crosshair was tall. But it had saved your lives. You looked behind you, at the rocks that had fallen there.

“How are we going to get out of here?” you asked, running the light over the edge of the cave to see if there were any openings, but there were none substantial enough for you to try and get leverage to move the rocks that blocked you both in. Some rain fell through the cracks, the water landing on the rock as the storm carried on outside. That was good – at least you had some airflow.

“We need to wait for the storm to pass before we can see if comms will work to call the others,” Crosshair explained. “If we can’t contact them, we’ll have to wait for them to find us.”

The thought of being trapped in here for an undetermined amount of time made your heartbeat begin to race. “And if they can’t find us?”

“They will.” Crosshair’s conviction was comforting. You’d learnt that his belief in his brothers was unwavering, and never misplaced. If he believed that they would find them, then you did too.

You looked at him, careful not to shine the light in his sensitive eyes. His gaze was on you, and this might’ve been the first time you didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes. As intense as his gaze was, it was soft, and the brown of his eyes shined in the low light. Your hand was still on his knee and your eyes flicked down to it. You didn’t know if removing it would make it more awkward, or if leaving it there would. In the split-second moment, you were debating it in your head, with your body still shaking when Crosshair interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re shivering,” Crosshair said. “You need to get dry.”

You looked up at him and realised just how much you were shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your clothes were soaked through from the downpour, and the chill was sinking into your bones. You knew that if you didn’t get dry, you would get hypothermic.

You held out the light to Crosshair to take, which he did wordlessly. With shaky hands, you pulled your med pack off your back and placed it in front of you. Crosshair shined the light where you needed it as you searched through the items for a reflective blanket and when you found it, you pulled it out, the light bouncing off the shiny fabric. You looked at Crosshair, heat crawling up your neck.

“Um, I need to…”

Crosshair turned his head immediately but kept the light pointed in your direction. As quickly as you could, embarrassment flooding your trembling frame, you removed the layers of clothes you had on. You kept on the black GAR issue bodysuit you wore under all your clothes, even if it was slightly damp – you weren’t going to be completely bare with just a blanket between you and Crosshair. As you stripped everything off, you noticed the palms of your hands were grazed from the fall, and it hurt to move them as the skin stretched. You would deal with it once you weren’t shivering anymore, but the priority right now was to get warm.

Once you piled all your clothes together – there was no hope in everything drying whilst you were stuck in here, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped the reflective blanket around you tightly.

“Okay.” You said and Crosshair looked over and he squinted as the light bounced off the blanket, gaze searching your frame.

“What about your hands?”

“My hands?”

“You fell. I saw your palms are grazed.”

He was so perceptive, you wondered what else he saw that he never acknowledged. “I’ll patch them up after I stop shaking,” you told him, wrapping the blanket tighter.

Crosshair shook his head. “Aren’t you always telling us that injuries should be treated as soon as possible? Give me this—” he pulled the med pack in front of him and pointed the light inside.

“Crosshair—” You said as he dug around your pack, pulling out some antibac wipes and bacta patches. “You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

Crosshair sent you a withering look before he placed the light between his teeth and gestured for you to show him your hands. You sighed and pulled your hands out of the blanket as best you could without it slipping off your shoulders. You turned your palms up, still slightly tremoring. They weren’t bleeding, but they were red and rubbed raw from the gravel you landed on. And they stung, but you were trying to be brave about it.

They were easily treatable, but your hands didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

Crosshair looked at them, adjusting the light in his mouth so they were completely illuminated before he shook his head with a frown, ripped open an antibac wipe, and cradled one of your hands in his.

 He met your eyes, a silent question in their gentle expression as his hand was poised, wipe ready to be drawn across your palms. You’d never seen him look at you like this before; this softly. It was so easy for your crush to bloom when he looked at you like this. You looked into his brown-eyed gaze, cheeks heated, and you nodded.

Crosshair gently placed the wipe on your palms, and you sucked in a breath as it stung the exposed skin. You felt the hand that cradled yours tighten and then he slowly began to clean the wound. With his attention on your hand, you could watch him unabashedly. The roles between you had now reversed. He was treating your hands as attentively as you treated his. The way he held your hand in his large palm was so gentle that your heart fluttered. You could feel the heat permeate from under his gloves into your skin, and you felt your hand slowly begin to still, the warmth returning to you with his touch. You were so touched at the way he was doing this for you, without you even asking. The way he insisted upon it. You hadn’t expected it after the medbay, and you ignored the little voice in the back of your head that asked what his intention was and simply savoured this moment of kindness from the man you were hopelessly crushing on.

He was as methodical as he was when cleaning his rifle, wiping the wound on one hand in even strokes that coated all the raw skin twice before he moved to the other hand, a new wipe this time.

You watched the way the light was poised between his teeth, and when his eyes flicked to yours for a moment, you averted your gaze back to your hands reflexively. You heard him breathe out through his nose harshly as he discarded the wipe and grabbed a bacta patch, pressing it between his palms to warm the liquid. You watched him, your eyes meeting his tattooed gaze once again as your hands remained suspended between you.

You thought back to the medbay, at how his fingers had curled around yours so naturally like it was instinctual; at the way he pulled his hands away so quickly and so forcefully it was like your hands had been burnt; at how fast he’d left you standing there, reeling from his actions. You tried to think of what his intention had been, and what you had done that had made him retreat.

“I’m sorry…for the other day.” Your voice was quiet in the small space. The storm continued to rage outside, but there was no way he hadn’t heard you. Crosshair looked at you, knowing exactly what it was you were referring to, and placed the bacta patches in one hand before removing the light from his mouth to talk, confusion etched into his brow.

“Why?”

You brought your lips between your teeth as your eyes flicked between his. “Because I upset you.”

Crosshair looked at you for a moment, an undiscernible expression passed over his half-shadowed face as your eyes stayed locked on each other. What you would give to know what he was thinking, what thoughts swirled in his head. Two months of watching him had barely scratched the surface – you wanted to know everything, to be privy to the innermost workings of his mind.

Crosshair was the first to break his gaze, shaking his head.

“You didn’t upset me.”

You frowned at him, but before you could ask him what he meant, he had placed the end of the light back between his teeth and started applying the bacta patches to your palms, activating the adhesive and smoothing them down over your hands with his thumbs. He held one of your hands in both of his, his fingertips touching the back of your hand as he ran his thumbs along the edges of the bacta patch. He pressed them gently down, and you could already feel the bacta doing its job. He did the same thing to the other side.

You watched him and you realised you’d never felt so cared for before. Never had you been held so gently, treated with such practised methodical hands that were also so soft and caring. Your heart swelled.

He took the light out of his mouth. “Bandages?”

You cleared your throat. “They’re in the side pocket.”

Crosshair took some out and started wrapping your hands up so the bacta patch would be more secure. He was so good at this. With the light dangling from his teeth, he circled the bandage around one hand, before he tied it off and tucked the end, and then the same on the other side.

When he was done, he dropped his hands from yours and removed the light from his teeth for the final time.

You looked at your hands. You couldn’t have treated them better if you had done it yourself. You hadn’t even had to coach him through what to do, and that impressed you. It only made the warmth in your chest grow, that hopeless crush in full bloom and only growing more hopeless by the minute.

“Thank you,” you told him and pulled your hands back underneath the blanket.

Crosshair hummed and then placed the light up on its base between you both and leaned it against the rocks behind you, so the beam of light shined upwards and illuminated where you at. You watched him then sit back against the rock, stretching his long legs out in front of him and closing his eyes, sighing. You sat facing him and brought the blanket around you tighter. You no longer shivered, but you still wanted to be warmer than you were. You stared at the side of his face, Crosshair’s profile half-lit in the light. You gazed at the brown of his skin, the sliver of his hair, the slope of his nose, the purse of his lips. You noted the stubble lining his angled jawline, and wondered what it would feel like against your lips. He was beautiful.

“Crosshair?”

He only hummed again in response.

You tightened your hold on the blanket as you worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside you. You couldn’t sit here anymore and not know.

“If I didn’t upset you…what happened?”

Crosshair opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak straight away. It was like he was searching for the right words, the best way to explain what had happened. You waited patiently for him to answer, your anxiety only building in anticipation.

Crosshair scraped the sole of his foot on the floor of the cavity as he brought one of his knees to his chest, resting his elbow on it. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turn pink, but you weren’t sure in this light. “I…crossed a boundary, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

You blinked at him, confused. That was the last thing you expected him to say, especially his apology. “Boundary? What boundary?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair grumbled, his voice scratching.

“It does to me,” you told him gently.

He turned quiet again. He avoided your eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot on his knee, frown etching deeper into his brow. You wished he would look at you. All those times you caught him watching you, now you willed him to meet your gaze. If he looked at you, you would be able to tell him with your eyes that he could trust you with whatever it was he was having a hard time verbalising. That you wouldn’t judge him the way you knew so many people did. That you saw him, how underneath all that surly exterior was a kind heart who’d been wounded too many times. But he pointedly didn’t look at you, and all you wished to say would remain your secret.

Crosshair sighed, breaking the silence. “You’re our medic, that’s more important.”

That only puzzled you more. “More important than what?”

Quiet descended again, and after several moments, you tentatively reached out and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder pauldron. His eyes darted to you, wide like they were before in that medbay, and he shrugged you off, his voice hard and frustrated, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Just forget it. It won’t happen again.”

You watched him, and the way his hands were clenched on his knees. The way he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You recalled the panic in his eyes that you saw in the medbay when he allowed himself the comfort of holding your hand, and how he’d had that same expression just before. You thought back to all the times you caught him looking at you, the way his eyes never left you – even when it was just the two of you during check-ups. The way he brushed up next to you when standing in mission briefings. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch you when he was helping you or keeping you safe – because it was easier to hide behind those gestures than the curling of his fingers around yours alone in the medbay.

Intentional. Intentional. Intentional.

Oh. Oh.

You felt your heartbeat increase as heat rushed through your body, your stomach flipping over at the realisation. You bit the insides of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling before taking a breath. It all made sense now.

Crosshair wasn’t upset at you, he was embarrassed. The man who was so careful about everything he said and did, had one moment where he allowed himself to do something on a whim, and it had made him vulnerable. The impulse had revealed a secret part of himself he had always intended to keep hidden, and now it was out there, and he was embarrassed about it.

He was embarrassed because he thought you didn’t feel the same.

What a fool. A beautiful stupid fool.

Nerves rattled through your body, but you couldn’t sit here any longer and not let him know how you felt too.  “Crosshair…” you said his name softly, barely above a whisper.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes stayed glued to the middle distance, his hands still clenched into fists. You let out a breath and held out your bandaged hands. At the movement in his periphery, his eyes slid towards your hands and then up to your face. You flexed your fingers, a silent signal to place his hands in yours. His mouth turned into a line and just when you thought he wouldn’t, he slowly placed one of his tight fists in your palms.

You cradled his hand, the back of it resting in your bandaged palm. As best you could with your other bandaged hand, you began to manually unfurl his fingers, spreading them out slowly against yours. He let you, his hand as pliable as it usually was when you did this – there was no apprehension in this moment, only trust. You began to slowly massage his hand, pressing and kneading the joints of his knuckles and the centre of his palm. Neither of you spoke, and the storm continued its fury on the other side of the rock, but it very well could’ve been a parsec away with how intimate this moment was. All you could focus on was him. You could feel him watching you, wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t let his intense gaze pull you away. Not anymore.

Once you reached the end of the massage, you slid your palm over his, fingers lined up. You moved your hand slowly like he was a baby tooka you had to coax into your lap, you were giving him time to pull away. You let your fingers fall between the gaps of his and then curled your fingers down, so you held his hand.

You felt him tense as he realised what was happening, and you looked at him, but his eyes were locked on your intertwined hands. You waited to see if he pulled away, but he didn’t. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his fingers still splayed out – but his palm stayed pressed into yours. You heard him take in a shaky breath as he finally looked at you.

His eyes had softened on the edges, but his shoulders were still tense, and he had an expression that looked like he was pleading with you; begging you not to play with him like this.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Is…is this the boundary?” you asked. You felt Crosshair shift, and his voice came out in a rasp and his ears were definitely pink in this dim light.

“Yes.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed his gently. “And me being your medic is more important than this?”

His reply came a second and a half later, all strained and breathy. “Yes.”

You looked at him, his tattooed gaze boring into your face. Ever the perceptive one, you could see he was trying to figure out what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You offered him a smile as you gave him the answer.

“This…this isn’t a boundary for me. Me being your medic has never mattered when it comes to this with you, and never will.”

You watched his eyes widen minutely, and if you didn’t know his face so well, you wouldn’t have noticed anything. But other than that almost indiscernible change in expression, Crosshair remained unmoving, his shoulders still rigid and his fingers still splayed out, not touching the back of your hand.

You searched his face and suddenly felt like you had completely misjudged his actions. Maybe he didn’t have the same crush on you, you did him. Maybe he had just held your hand by mistake, that what you thought had all been intentional, wasn’t actually intentional at all.

Your face burned and embarrassment flooded your body. You started to pull your hand away from him.

“But if it’s a boundary for you—”

But Crosshair’s fingers came down before you could rip your hand away, and he held your hand to his tightly, stopping your palm from leaving his. His hold was secure, warm and purposeful. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

“It’s not,” he told you, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. He looked at you, and he was more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You felt your heartbeat flutter. You knew this was hard for him, vulnerability of any kind wasn’t Crosshair’s comfort zone. You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could.

“Good.”

You felt his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxed. Your heart almost burst when you saw the corner of his mouth turn up at you – a smile that was yours and yours alone. You smiled at him, that warmth in your chest glowing brightly, making you feel so at home, you almost didn’t mind you were trapped in this space. You were with Crosshair, and that was enough.

You both sat there, holding hands in the torchlight. It was such an innocent kind of intimacy, but for you both, it held so much. So many unspoken feelings now known through the feel of your palms against each other. You never wanted to let go, and you suspected he didn’t either. You felt his finger muscles flex and you squeezed his hand. He lifted his thumb and placed it on top of yours, stroking it gently in a ministration so comforting you could’ve sobbed. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

A genuine Crosshair smile was a rare gift so few received. He kept them, saving them for the people he trusted and loved. To get one now, to see the corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile lines in his cheeks stretch in a closed-mouth smile, you felt honoured. You never imagined you would ever see Crosshair smile at you like this, to let you close like this – to let you close at all. The dim light of the cave had revealed the disappearing ink of his feelings, and it was extraordinary. You would tell him the full extent of what you felt for him in time, but for now, your feelings were wordlessly exchanged with just you two for witnesses.

You watched as Crosshair tentatively and wordlessly brought the back of your hand to his lips. With his tattooed gaze on you the whole time, he placed a lingering kiss there. You inhaled sharply at the gesture and the skin tingled under the bandage where he kissed you. The rain outside was heavy, but your heart felt light – like if you weren’t trapped in this space, you float away and join those rocks in the sky. You watched him pull away, brushing his lips on the spot for a moment before he let your hands drop between you.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his husky voice asked softly.

You chuckled, a grin stretching across your face. “Yes. More than okay.”

Crosshair hummed, his eyes smiling. “Good.”

The mountain shook again, and you looked around you frantically as dust from the cavity began to fall on you both. Crosshair pulled you against him, arms going around you as he shielded you to his chest. You held onto the edge of his chest plate so tight it dug into your fingers, your face pressed into his chest as he held you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on the mixed smell of soap and wood of Crosshair instead of the panic that coursed through you. When the tremor stopped, you looked up at him, and him at you.

“You okay?” he asked

“Yeah,” you lifted your head but didn’t dare untangle yourself from Crosshair’s arms.

Crosshair adjusted the blanket on your shoulders, pulling it tighter around you. “The longer this storm goes on, the more danger we’re in.”

“Should we try the comms again?”

Crosshair let go of you briefly to grab his helmet and put it on. “Hunter, come in. Tech? Wrecker? Echo? Do you read?”

You waited. Crosshair’s arm tightened on you, but he let out a frustrated sigh and pulled the helmet off roughly, setting it down next to him. “Still nothing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you sighed. “What do we do?”

“Wait.”

You groaned. Crosshair chuckled and you felt his hand run up and down your back soothingly. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed how much he cared for you. A man of few words, he let his actions show his feelings for you. And you had no doubts about it.

After a minute, you lifted your head to find him looking down at you intensely. You felt his arms tighten on you as this hand travelled down to your waist and stayed there. You blinked up at him, drawing your eyes across his face before they landed on his lips.

They had been so soft when they touched the back of your hand, what would they feel like pressed against your own? You’d dreamt about it, but you had a feeling that it would be nothing to the reality of it.

“N’edee?” His voice was quiet, but you feel the weight on them in your stomach.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, but there was nothing innocent about what was running through your mind right now.

“Can I test another boundary?” His tone was hesitant, careful as he leaned in a little closer to you.

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Which one?”

“This one.”

Crosshair slowly closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. It was like your whole body lit up inside, igniting you so completely you were aware of every nerve ending you had. Your fingers tightened on his armour just as Crosshair languidly pulled away after too brief a moment. You stared at him, dazed with your mouth parted slightly, and in need of more.

“Well?” he asked, his voice like silk.

You were breathless. “Not a boundary. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“If you insist,” he smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

Kissing Crosshair was an all-consuming kind of feeling. That magnetic pull he already had on you only seemed to intensify the minute his lips descended on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you onto his lap, your thighs falling on either side of his as you straddled him, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders – not that you needed it anymore with the heat that thrummed through you.

You melted into the kiss, and you were right – your dreams of his lips were nothing compared to the real thing. You felt the tickle of his breath on your cheek as you arched yourself closer to him. With just your body suit on, you could feel every hard ridge of his armour against you. His arms moved across your back, and you could feel his fingertips searing along your shoulder blades. His hot mouth moved against yours and you allowed yourself to nip at his lips. You felt him flinch before his lips stretched into a smile against yours, a chuckle vibrating his chest.

“Guess you do have some bite, N’edee,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Just for you,” you breathed, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper.

He was just as starved for you as you were for him, and you wondered how long exactly he’d been feeling like this towards you, but you’d ask such questions later. His mouth was heavenly, his lips like a caress against yours. Your lips parted and he took the chance to deepen the kiss as you dragged your hands up into his buzzed hair, feeling the short strands against your fingernails. And you felt just how skilled he was his tongue as it slid against yours, and you silently thanked his toothpicks for giving him the practice.

You’d never been kissed with such passion before, with such intention. Now, he was no longer embarrassed, he did not hold back his kisses and touches. That knowledge made it all the more thrilling as Crosshair pressed you into him, pulling your hips against his with hands that you knew to be tender, but now held with you with such desire you felt dizzy.

He moved his lips down your jawline to just below your ear, and you panted as you tightened your arms around him, rocking into him. He sucked the skin there, his tongue darting out and wetting the area. It made you moan so loudly you were glad no one else could hear how desperate you sounded.

“Crosshair,” you moaned.

You felt him smirk against your skin before he made his way back to your lips. Groaning into your mouth again, you felt his hands move from your hips to your ass and back up again, and you felt your body go into overdrive, pulsing with a wanting need. Where did he learn to kiss like this? You wanted to thank whatever Kaminaon training module taught him, or the illicit holos you knew Tech had stashed on the locked-down data drive you found a week after you joined them – whichever it was.

You were so lost in his kisses, the way they grew in fervour with each press against your skin, you almost didn’t hear the beeping of Crosshair’s comm in his helmet.

“Crosshair,” you said when you finally heard it, pulling away, but his mouth just found your neck instead. You patted his shoulder. “Crosshair, the comm.”

“What?” he said raggedly. His lips ceased their attentions, and he pulled back. His lips were all swollen and you smiled at the knowledge that was all you. You stayed perched in his lap and he grabbed his helmet and put it on. You could hear the other voice when you were this close to him.

“Crosshair, come in.” It was Hunter.

“Copy, Hunter,” Crosshair said, and you mentally applauded him for not sounding as breathless as you would’ve.

“Are you and N’edee okay?”

Crosshair’s hand squeezed your thigh, and you squirmed on top of him, smiling. “For the moment. We’re trapped on the mountain. The storm caused a cave-in, and we can't get out.”

“We’ll lock in on your signal and fly to your location. Stand by.” You realised then the rain and thunder had stopped, and that the storm had now passed.

“Copy,” Crosshair said before he removed his helmet and placed it next to him again, and you both looked at each other. He gripped your hips. “They’re on their way in the Marauder. Wrecker will be able to push the rocks out of the way, and we’ll be free.”

You breathed in, relieved help was coming. “I didn’t even realise the storm had passed,”

“Well, we were busy,” Crosshair snided.

“Right,” you laughed lightly.

Crosshair looked away from you for the first time since everything changed between you, and his hands on your hips loosened. You frowned as you watched his once open expression, slowly begin to close off again in the dim light. He looked uncertain, all in his own head again and you realised that he was worried – worried that this moment together was but a brief interlude in which you got caught up in the danger of the situation. You wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him he was being absurd, how he could think such a thing after all you just said and did. But you didn’t, because like baby tooka, Crosshair needed gentle reassurance; that his vulnerability and his feelings were not being played with.

Later, when you had more time and were back on the Marauder and tucked away in the medbay just the two of you again, you would tell him just how much he had nestled his way into your heart. That your crush was much more than that, that you saw all of him, and though you were still learning to decipher the riddles he was made of, you never wanted to stop. That you saw all his intentions, and now yours was to hold his heart in your bandaged hands the way he held yours.

But for now, in your final moments alone with him before his brothers rescued you both, you locked your eyes on him and gently grabbed the hands that had slackened on your hips, linking your fingers together once more. You watched his eyes find yours, his brows slanted at the ends as he looked at you with all this apprehension. You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them, lips lingering there as you let the gesture convey wordlessly your intention to keep nurturing what was between you for as long as he let you. That this didn’t end once you were both bathed in sunlight again.

“I hope we’ll be busy again later? And many laters after that too?”

Crosshair’s shoulder relaxed and you smiled as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes smiling as he squeezed your hands once more. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! if you made it this far, thank you! i appreciate it so much! this is the longest standalone fic i've ever written!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

Eren Yeager x fem!Reader

Summary: Modern AU/College AU. fem!Reader is very good friends with Armin Arlert and “hates” Eren Yeager.

Word Count: 1,830 Warnings: Smut (exhibition [library], sucking on fingers, fingering, unprotected sex, ass slap, orgasm denial, making out, Eren calling reader ‘princess’, Eren being a tease, and creampie.)

Tag: @mekiza for A Book of Secrets Collab

A/n: This is my first time writing AOT (TT.TT), I hope you all enjoy this piece!

Like, reblogging, and kind comments are appreciated.

“Sorry, I’m late.” You quietly slip into one of the rented study rooms that Armin reserved at the library. “I needed to talk with my professor during her office hours.” You slid into a chair next to him while setting your backpack down on the nearby chair. Armin has been your official study partner since freshman year. 

“That’s alright, Eren and I managed to secure a room.” Your eyes flicker to the brunette next to Armin, his amused green eyes and smirk is enough to make you irritated.

“Of all people, Armin?” Your face deadpans. Armin’s expression is apologetic, he knows how you feel about Eren since he first introduced the both of you. 

You heard about his ego and narcissism, sleeping with different women every weekend. When Armin told you Eren was in pre-med, you scoffed. He’s nothing but just a pretty, spoiled fuckboy. He probably wouldn’t make it far and change to an easier major sooner than later.

Unfortunately for you, he was in most of your classes but always sits in the very back row. You’d always find him either sleeping, playing on his phone, or flirting with girls who throw themselves at him. You thought that he would fail the first semester of pre-med, but he managed to get on the Dean’s list. It still baffles you how in the world this happened. Armin chuckles and explains to you that Eren is actually intelligent but he just doesn’t look like it. This makes you hate him even more. He doesn’t need to try hard and still manages to be perfect. 

“He was the only other person who was available to help me secure a study room.” According to the rules of the university’s library, there must be at least two people in order to reserve a study room. This is to prevent other students hogging them up. 

“You’re welcome.” Eren arrogantly waves his large hand with a smug expression, making you roll your eyes. You take out your laptop from your bag and headphones. Focusing on your recorded lecture and taking some additional notes on your laptop, you received a ping in the top right corner of your screen. It’s a message from Eren.

Pausing your recorded lecture and removing your headphones, Armin instantly notices. “I’ll be right back.” Being as vague as possible, you leave the room without making eye contact with any of them.

You take the stairs to the highest level of the building and walk to the farthest corner of the library where rarely anyone uses. Patiently waiting, Eren shows up about 5 or 6 minutes later.

“Eren-” He aggressively pushes you against the bookshelves, hungrily kissing you. The kiss is electrifying and passionate, you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen it. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, allowing him access to messily make out and swallow your needy moans. 

How in the seventh hell did you and Eren end up in a secret relationship? After freshman year finals, Reiner threw a huge party. During a game of Dare or Drink After Dark Edition, you picked up a card to make out with the sexiest guy in the room or drink 3 times. The majority of votes was Eren which prompted you to choose the latter choice. After the game was over, you stepped outside to sober up a bit. Eren sought you out, wanting to know why you refused to kiss him. You brushed him off as he questioned you further. He teased you, asking if you were worried that kissing him might make you fall for him. 

Pissed off from what he said, Eren cornered you and trapped you in between his arms, challenging you. Murmured against your lips if you didn’t want this to push him away. Your brain froze, his cologne was intoxicating and up close Eren was way too handsome for his own good. Eren took this as consent, he leaned down to kiss you. There was instant electricity, sparks or fireworks whatever was running through your brain. He kissed you like you have never been kissed before. It felt so right. He asked you out on a date, you were reluctant at first but was convinced after several more kisses. 

Date after date, you realized how wrong you were about him. He was nothing like his reputation at the university. A spoiled stupid rich fuckboy. Afraid how it would make you look like a hypocrite for dating him after how much you spewed your hate for him. Eren suggested keeping the relationship a secret temporarily and slowly phasing out your ‘hatred’ for him. 

Now here you both are in your sophomore year.

Eren removes his lips from yours, placing three fingers on your lips. “Open up.” Without hesitation, you suck in his fingers and lapping it up like it was his cock. The feeling of your warm tongue and mouth wrapping around his fingers causes his dick to strain against his boxers. “Fuck, you like that princess?” He thrusts his fingers in and out of your drooling mouth, spit drips down your chin. Removing his digits from your lips, he uses his thumb to pull your panties to the side and shoves his three fingers into your sopping wet pussy.

“Mmmph!” Eren covers your mouth with his other hand, your glistening eyes staring into his passionate green eyes.  

“Careful, princess. Someone might hear you screaming my name.” The wet lewd sounds of your pussy and his fingers makes you even more aroused. Spreading your legs more to give him more room, “That’s it… spread your legs f’me.” Eren groans in your ear feeling your juices dripping down to his wrist. Using his palm to rub against your clit, your eyes are screwed shut from the added pleasure. Your gummy walls clenching, getting close to orgasm but it vanishes. You open your eyes, meeting his teasing smirk as he licks his fingers that were inside of you. Tasting you.

“Wh-why?” You whine at the loss of your orgasm, your clit is throbbing. The look of disappointment makes Eren snicker.

“Aren’t you forgetting-” He flips you around, your chest pressed up against the bookshelves, pressing his clothed hardened cock against your lower back, “this is your punishment, princess.” Taking a quick nip on your ear, you whimper as he bunches your sundress up. Eren unbuttons and unzips his jeans to pull out his well hung cock, spitting on the tip and rubbing it against your slit for lubrication. 

You are a whimpering mess, looking back at him with your tearful eyes, “Pl-please, I need you Ren.” Tapping his cock once more before slowly pushing the tip inside, feeling the tightness.

“Argh, fuck.” He moans sexily in your ear, making your pussy throb even more, “My princess is struggling to take me. Gonna make you fit.” Pushing his fat cock inside your soaking wet pussy, you relax your hole to help him push it inside. “Good girl. Relax f’me.” Once he bottoms out, he pulls his cock out then slams it back in. Grabbing your hips and jack hammering your wet hole. Eren’s thick girth splitting you open, you are clinging onto the bookshelves to hold your balance. 

“AH ERENN!” You accidentally scream before he could cover your mouth again with his hand. Feeling lost in pleasure, listening to loud skin slapping and wet squelching sounds, you let out nasty moans. Your eyes are rolling back as Eren’s cock hammers your sweet spot and his balls slam against your ass. 

Feeling your walls about to pulsate, Eren talks into your ear, “Don’t you dare cum.” He slaps your ass, watching it jiggle. Crying, whining, and drooling on his large hand, it’s getting more difficult for you to hold back. Your pussy grips his length, making him feral. Eren letting out breathy grunts in your ear, getting lost in his own pleasure. He lifts your leg up to slam you in a different angle to make you squirm. Letting out muffling noises inside his hand, you let out pleady moans to let you cum. The way your folds are fluttering, he knows you’re close. “Cum.” 

Pulling your face towards his, sloppily kissing you, he spills thick ropes of cum inside. Your eyes roll back again and release the knot in your stomach. Eren continues to thrust into your sopping wet pussy to keep your high. Once he feels your walls stop convulsing, he pulls his cock out, moving your panties back in place to keep his cum from spilling out.There are tears dripping down your face from the intensity. Eren sees your cute fucked out expression and kisses your forehead.

“You okay, princess?” Throwing him an intimidating look, which he finds adorable.

“I was so close to hating you again.” Feeling sticky from his cum dripping into your drenched panties. Eren snickers, towering over you.

“That’s funny, last night you said something else.” Your cheeks are red with memories of the night before. Eren came over to your apartment to surprise you with a candlelight dinner and he made love to you. “I remember being balls deep inside your tight little pussy, you looked so cute, crying out how much you love me.” His tone is teasing and giving you playful kisses on your forehead.

“Well I take that back! I hate you for real now.” You are about to leave until Eren grabs your wrist to pull you back into his broad chest.

“Too late to take that back. You’re mine.” Eren lovingly kisses you again, hoping to melt your little tantrum. “I love you, [Y/n].” The kisses grow more passionate and deep, Eren reluctantly releases you. “Go back down first, princess.” You nod, going back down with your wobbly legs to the reserved study room. Quietly opening the door, alerting Armin who is looking at you.

“Everything okay, [Y/n]?”

“Oh yeah, everything is fine.” You immediately take a seat, feeling the soreness and Eren’s cum dripping out. Armin watches you put your headphones back in and focus on your laptop again. A few minutes later, Eren comes back into the room while humming. He takes a seat next to Armin and pulls out his notes for class to review. Armin stares back and forth between you two and shrugs before going back into his studies. Feeling Eren’s eyes on you, you make quick eye contact. He gives you a playful wink while Armin’s head is down. You roll your eyes again. If you could only hate him…

2022 © littleoanh — do not repost or translate my work on this platform or any other platform. likes, reblogs, and kind comments are welcome. must be 18+ to interact.

Networks: @tokyo-ballroom & @tokyometronetwork

Being a house cat means a lot of time to ponder. I am familiar with your fic as it relates to Pellaeon/Thrawn, henceforth, referred to as Prawn. Lately, I have noticed that you have shifted away from this pairing into unfamiliar territory for me, mainly Firmus Piett/Maximilian Veers & Tiaan Jerjerrod/Conan Antonio Motti. Since I am firmly ensconced in my tiny corner of the fandom, I had to ask around, who are these guys?

Now it’s time to ask you. Welcome to my little corner at the Asker’s Studio™️ (don’t mind the ferocious Mini-Panther🐈‍⬛)

Where I go in the fandoms is determined by where ‘my’ authors go, thus, I often find myself in unfamiliar territory. I got my start with Harry Potter, moved on to Gargoyles, enjoyed a long visit with Thrawn, and currently I happily reside in TNG. As person who merely comments, it’s easy to jump around, but as an author, I would think that it would be more complicated.

What made you decide to branch out to these new pairings/fandom? While they are still Star Wars, I view them far enough away from Thrawn to consider them a different fandom (as it is an enormous departure from the Thrawn universe to the Original Trilogy)

I admit that my only knowledge of your new pairings (newer to your fic) is what Wookeepedia tells me, and what more experienced fandom inhabitants add to that. It makes me want to go back to the OT and watch it through a different lens.

What is it that you would want new readers to know about these ancillary characters?

What characteristics do you admire or dislike about them?

Do you see any parallels to characters that you have written about in the past?

I am behind on my Fic reading, but know that I have been enormously entertained by your Whatever it Takes, and I hope to see additional updates sometime in the near future.

Ahhh thank you for having me back on Asker’s Studio, it’s always a pleasure to be here. I will put this under a cut to make everyone's life a little bit easier

I have indeed shifted my preferences into the adjacent world of OT Imperials, at least for the moment. While I can firmly say that this is all the wonderful @alexx-dax’s fault – since I started following him on tumblr and was left with many similar questions to those you have posed to me: who are these men? How can I tell them apart? Why should I even care? – the question of “why” still remains, and for that, my answer is two-fold.

I would say that the jump from Thrawn to the OT Imps is not as far as it looks on the surface – much of the internal politics and settings aboard a Star Destroyer in Thrawn’s time (be it in Canon before the Battle at Lothal or in Legends aboard the Chimaera) remain the same. This makes it both easier to write (as I already have an idea of The Empire and how it operates) and easier to integrate characters that are still very near and dear to my heart – in fact, while I have yet to make full use of it in a fic, the fact that Grand Admiral Thrawn was the one that recommended a then Corporal Veers to Darth Vader for his Death Squadron has a lot of room for potential. I also think it helps that the Imps have a much less wide-reaching fandom – there’s a very small, very enthusiastic community that has made me feel very welcome as I undertake my studies into Background Men, and I really appreciate that.

Without going into too much detail, I would also be remiss if I did not touch on the issue of Writer Burnout and how that has contributed to my step away from writing Thrawn. I have the curse of non-functioning executives (aka ADHD/autism), and writing something that isn’t the topic du jour is a painful and tedious process for me (astute readers will also recognize this is why I rarely do outlines/planning and why I almost never edit/proofread my fics before posting them). For every fic that reaches AO3, there are 8-10 more that are half finished on my google drive, and I tend to lose creative steam on things very, very quickly. Between a bunch of stuff IRL and the rise of people discussing Thrawn and his characterization in fandom spaces(1), I’m having a very hard time getting my ‘voice’ for Thrawn back (it doesn’t help that my largest and most popular fic has spiraled into something much, much larger than I had originally planned, and I’m very much struggling to figure out how to tie it off in a satisfying way lol).

But back to these new guys. Who are they and why should you care?

First of all, if you wish to join me in my corner with my dolls, I would actually recommend watching the OT again but considering the perspectives of the Imps – in particular, Ken Colley’s portrayal of Piett in Empire Strikes back and Michael Pennington’s Jerjerrod in Return of the Jedi(2) give a lot of depth to the characters that we often just see as “bad guy henchmen”. People have written many things about these characters over the years (some of which I agree with and some of which I do not), but I always come back to Piett’s expression as he watches Admiral Ozzel choke to death beside him; these characters are Imperials, yes, but they are not all Tarkin or Palpatine – that is, they are not simply evil for the sake of being evil. Veteran Thrawn fans will know that writing from the perspective of the antagonists can be a lot of fun – and for my brand of fic (ie the hurt/comfort), there are a lot of Rebel Victories that bring pain that’s worth exploring (not unlike Bilbringi in the HTTE Trilogy).

I have spoken a lot about the Imperials as a collective, so now it’s time to get into the individuals. While I will touch a little bit on my favourite ships (Piett/Veers and Motti/Jerjerrod), I think that another fun part about writing these particular characters is that they work well in many different pairings, depending on the vibe you’re going for (I will spare you the chart, but I do have one). Anyway, without further ado and in no particular order, the incomplete summary of Imps:

Firmus Piett (ESB, ROTJ):

Piett is the character that got me hooked on the imperials in the first place – his “goddammit I’m just trying to do my job and not get murdered” energy combined with his otherness (in that unlike most other high-ranking officers, he is neither from a core world nor upper class). His days fighting in the Axxilian anti-pirate fleet only add to this vibe, and much of his characterization (that I go off of, anyway) centers around him being scrappy and resourceful – useful where other, snobbier officers might not be.

As with all things Fanfiction and particularly with the Imperials (as there is comparatively little material to work with), there will always be flavours of characters depending on who is writing them, but I enjoy Piett’s potential for a found family, along with his biting snark and ability to survive only on caf and spite.

Maximilian Veers (ESB):

Veers has the distinction of being in the Imperial Army, rather than the Navy, which automatically gives him a different flavour than the others. It’s my understanding that there’s a rivalry between the Army and the Navy, which lends itself well to a back and forth banter that is easily one of my favourite things in an Imp fic. Veers is also the strong and stoic character – he’s not intimidated by Vader, and he’s going to do his damn job, no matter what.

I’m a big sap for the “hard on the outside soft on the inside” trope, and Veers is perfect for this. He protects his Herd with a fierce loyalty, and is a proven competent leader, but he’s also the sort of guy who teases his partner and loves physical affection. Veers is a giant, blond puppy, and I love that about him. His vibe works especially well with Piett, since they have the whole "tol and smol"/Army-Navy/slowly opening up to one another vibe that I love.

Tiaan Jerjerrod (ROTJ):

Listed as a “cold technocrat” on every official description, Tiaan is another one of those characters that has many layers to him. He is the rich snob from the core, but he’s also an extremely competent engineer who was hand picked to handle some of the Empire’s biggest projects. He’s also comparatively young (a full fifteen years younger than Pellaeon, and ten years younger than Veers, if Wookieepedia is to be believed), and yet has made his way to the top of the top. Tiaan also has the distinction that (at least in the deleted scenes) we see him hesitate – even when given an order, he is conflicted about firing the Death Star II at Endor, given the number of Imperials still on the moon.

Tiaan is usually characterized as being neurotic and anxious – a sort of wet-cat energy that contrasts well with the competence he is known for. His background – a rich aristocrat coming from a long line of decorated Naval Officers from a conservative planet – only adds to this effect, and I’m a big fan of stories that explore how he navigates (or doesn’t) the enormous pressures he faces.

Conan Antonio Motti (ANH):

Loud, Obnoxious, and American, Motti stands out among the Joint Chiefs in the one scene he is in. He has the balls to challenge Vader, and the gusto to back it up – he’s also quite young, having risen to be commander of the DS-I in his early 30s (based on his actor’s age, Wookieepedia does not have a birthday for him). While there are scant few other canon appearances for him, it’s also worth noting that one of them is him writing a letter to HR regarding Vader’s Force Choke, and another is a passage from the Death Star Novel about how he works out in only a speed-strap juggling balls in heavy gravity.

Motti can be summed up as the “Go Big or Go Home” guy who is crass, loud, and gets in everyone’s face. He can be a lot of fun to read and write because he’s so obnoxious, and that makes him fun to include even if the story is primarily about someone else. He pairs well with Jerjerrod because they have similar backstories (young, wealthy) but wildly different personalities, although I have been enjoying the Motti-Thrawn friendship lately (that would give Pellaeon a migraine)

Overall, each of these characters (and Captain Lorth Needa, of course, everyone’s favourite Dad Friend and holder of the single brain cell) has a unique vibe that they bring to the table, and it’s fun to see how they interact with both each other and the Situations they find themselves in. I also find them to be very relatable – every author pours a little bit of their heart and soul into the characters they write, but for me personally, there is a lot I can draw from my own experiences (not unlike how I have written a very few very personal Thrawn fics).

With that being said, I do struggle sometimes to hit the right notes and strike a balance between “canon”, “fanon” and the story I want to tell. While Thrawn has (for the most part) been consistently written and it is easy enough to see a through-line for his story, that is absolutely not the case here. There are many examples I could speak to (Needa as “ruthless”, Veers refusing prosthetics due to stigma or Jerjerrod “loving war”), but for the sake of brevity I will only touch on one: Piett as a schemer who sought to deliberately have Ozzel killed.

While this is… an interpretation of the source material (IE Empire Strikes Back) and has since been made canon by From Another Point of View, it disregards the intentions of Ken Colley in playing the character. He wanted Piett to come off as more relatable to the audience, to give depth to the Empire as more than just a faceless monolith, and I would argue that he is quite successful in doing so(3). Undermining this (and his backstory notes about being an underdog within the Empire) take away some of the aspects of his character that I really enjoy – but does it make my Piett OOC if he wouldn’t do something like that? Does it matter?

Anyway almost two thousand words and three footnotes, it’s very much time for me to wrap this up (as bad as I am at writing endings). Suffice it to say that I find the Imps to be an excellent sandbox with which to play in, and I appreciate both the time you’ve taken to ask me about them and the time it’s taken to read through this essay of sorts.

I’m hoping I’ll get back to Whatever it Takes sooner or later, but I would rather wait for inspiration to strike me than to keep beating my head against a metaphorical wall until an ending falls out. Until next time, thank you again for the ask and all the wonderful comments you have left for me 😊

(1)I should note that this isn’t targeted at any group in particular and isn’t meant to be a negative statement – just that the Thrawn fandom continues to grow, and with the upcoming Ashoka Show, there are a lot of people with a lot of different opinions about the character, and for someone who isn’t particularly adept at navigating the sea of fandom, it can be extremely overwhelming.

(2)If you are able to watch the deleted scenes from ROTJ, that’s even better – there are some excellent Jerjerrod scenes that did not make the final cut

(3)I do own two Piett action figures and haven’t read Another Point of View yet, so I could be a little bit biased

Warm Happy Thoughts

Notes: This little ficlet takes place during Episode 56, during a night of rest after Imogen and Chetney are exhausted during the massive blizzard.

(I’m sorry about the formatting, Tumblr sucks and I genuinely can’t tell where it’s broken and not broken when I am editing it, and I just genuinely do not have the patience to reformat it for here, so this is what it is. I’ll post it somewhere else soon.)

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The biting cold blew against their faces as they continued their trek through the Flotket Alps. A persistent shiver swept through Imogen’s body, and while she kept telling herself “hoes don’t get cold,” she did find herself wishing she maybe had just one more layer on during this journey.

By the time night fell and they began to prepare their camp to go to sleep, exhausted from the frozen temperatures and having to help dig an embankment for some semblance of protection, Imogen began to set up her bedding for whatever attempt at sleep she would muster. It was weird without Laudna being there next to her each night, and while the others were still welcome company as they always were, it just wasn’t the same. Even when Laudna died, Imogen thought, at least she was still with them and Imogen was able to lie next to her at night, macabre as it were.

Imogen laid down on her bedding and began to cast Prestidigitate around the immediate area to generate some kind of warmth when it just became absolutely unbearable. “Fearne!”

Fearne, who had been sitting in front of the fire with Mister eating some of the cookies Fresh Cut Grass had made the night before, looked up and over in the direction where Imogen was laying. “Yeah?” She asked, lifting the cookie to her mouth for another bite, as Mister reached out for another piece.

“S-s-sit on me!” Imogen shouted just across the camp, another shiver snaking its way through her body.

“Okay!” Fearne responded with a playful laugh while handing a whole cookie to Mister, who took it and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. He swallowed it whole, and after a few moments of some visible discomfort, let out a little burp with the tiniest little smoke trail emitted, relief crossing his face.

Fearne bound across the camp and before Imogen could roll over to continue any conversation, she found Fearne Mirthfully Leaping right on top of her. “Hello,” she said.

“Oh, Fearne—” Imogen said as she gasped under the sudden addition of Fearne’s weight on top of her, “I didn’t—“

Fearne interrupted her, “ssh ssh shh,” and had repositioned herself so she was now laying on top of Imogen, covering her body from head to toe. Fearne reached out and fluffed her dress in a few places, allowing it to flow and drape over both of them, presenting another blanket for Imogen’s much desired warmth.

“Thank you, I was only jokin’,” Imogen explained as she tried to look up at Fearne’s face, only to be met with more of her neck and chest than anything else. Imogen knew Fearne was tall, but she never quite processed how tall until now.

“Oh it’s okay,” Fearne said as she attempted to make herself comfortable now. “I would have wound up over here sooner or later.”

Imogen’s nose wrinkled at that, not quite sure what to make of it, but it was so late and she was so exhausted that she didn’t want to even try and press into Fearne’s mind to find out what she meant. Instead, she just sighed a breath of relief and took in the warmth that Fearne’s body presented in the moment. “Well, I appreciate it, but you don’t—“

“You miss Laudna, huh?”

Imogen blinked. Ever the tactful one, Fearne was. “Oh, uh,” Imogen began to stammer a response before Fearne picked up on her hesitancy.

“Yeah, me too.” Fearne shimmied a little so less of her was on top of Imogen and more on the side, allowing for slightly more comfort on both their parts. Imogen, in turn, readjusted and turned onto her side to now face Fearne properly.

“I miss Orym and Ash, too,” Imogen said, not wanting to make it seem like Laudna was her only focus, but in the back of her mind, she felt that Fearne was worried about them and missing them enough for the two of them in turn.

“Oh, of course,” Fearne responded, “but you and Laudna, you’ve been through so much and together for so long, how… h-how are you feeling?”

Imogen looked down at the red bracelet on her wrist, twirling it around for a few moments before looking back at Fearne. “I miss her a lot, Fearne.” A tiny quiver ran through Imogen’s lip, this time unsure if it was from the cold, or from her emotions. “I’m so worried about her. With magic bein’ all fucked up, and not bein’ able to communicate with her, not knowing if she’s okay, or even alive…” Imogen began to get worked up and breathing hard, her anxiety starting to rise again.

Fearne reached a hand out and placed it on Imogen’s neck, pulling her face into her chest and hugging her. “Oh, there there,” she said softly into Imogen’s ear as she held her close. Imogen began to calm after a couple of moments, casting Calm Emotions on herself after she was able to compose herself enough.

Imogen continued, “If I just knew she was okay, I’d be okay.”

Fearne looked at Imogen and nodded, readjusting her position once more so she was now on her back looking up at the night sky, the snowstorm having mostly past with just a few clouds lingering now. “I’m sure she’s okay. You haven’t had a dream in the last few days, have you?”

Just as Fearne said that, the clouds overhead shifted and the moonlight from Catha broke through, casting just a small beam over their camp. Imogen felt at peace for just a moment. “No, I haven’t,” she said.

“Just like last time, that’s a good thing” Fearne reminded her. “I’m sure she’s okay,” she added as she reached out and patted Imogen on the cheek. “We’ll find her. For now, let’s just think warm, happy thoughts.”

Imogen looked up to the sky and stared at the waning Catha for a moment, before it disappeared behind another set of clouds. She laid her hand down in the gap between her and Fearne, normally the gap between her and Laudna, and finding Fearne’s hand instead, grabbed and held it, giving it a light squeeze. Fearne returned the gesture in kindness.

They laid there in silence like that for another few moments before Fearne broke the silence. “Imogen?”

“Yeah Fearne?”

After a beat, a momentary hesitation, Fearne asked, “do you love Laudna?”

Imogen, who’s exhaustion had let her start to drift off to sleep, had her eyes closed until Fearne’s question hit the air and lingered on the wind, that slight inflection on the word “love” ringing on Imogen’s ears in the way a song can awaken one’s soul. Again, very tactful, Fearne.

But wait, Imogen thought to herself. Does she love Laudna? She had just told Laudna how much she meant to her just a few nights before the solstice.

You’re my tether, Laudna… Sometimes I feel like I’m about to float away, but as long as you’re there… I love you so much…

And Laudna has told Imogen on many occasions how she’s felt about her, even on that same night.

You’re very capable… I think I feel like I have a strong foundation, and that’s you… I don’t mind being your better half… You’ll always have me

Imogen, still holding Fearne’s hand in one, reached into her pocket with the other and clutched the locket she had gotten from her dad back in Gelvaan. She held it tight in her fist, and continued to think about Laudna for a moment. Sure, there was love between her and Laudna, but was there love? Was this love? Is this what love is?

Fearne looked over at Imogen, and squeezed her hand again. “I only ask because if you’re sure there’s nothing going on—“

Imogen snapped out of her mind and focused on Fearne, squeezing her hand back. “I- I-“

Fearne sat up in anticipation, waiting for Imogen to finish that sentence, as she continued to lay there staring up at the sky for another moment.

“I think I do, Fearne.”

Fearne smiled, before giving a quick glance over to Chetney, where he was sat next to Deanna, both of them seeming to enjoy a lukewarm bowl of soup that had been prepared over the modest fire they managed to start. Their backs to Fearne and Imogen, Fearne saw him rub his shoulder against Deanna in what she perceived to be a playful manner and hear Deanna give a little laugh.

Imogen, eyes wide open as though she’d seen the true face of the Dawnfather, sat up and looked at Fearne. Fearne turned to meet her attention proper. “I love Laudna,” Imogen  repeated.

Fearne smiled again at her and put a hand to Imogen’s cheek, rubbing it softly and carefully. “She’s wonderful, Imogen.”

Tears now fully formed in Imogen’s eyes and beginning to roll down her cheek, she nodded in agreement. “She really is,” she said through light sniffles as Imogen now leaned into Fearne’s body for a hug. A few moments pass as the two of them just share an embrace, Imogen fully taking in this revelation.

“But if you don’t make a move on her, I am going to,” Fearne said, looking down at Imogen with intent in her eyes. Imogen looked up to meet Fearne’s gaze, still wiping the tears from her eyes, before a small smirk cracked on each of their faces after a second had passed.

“We’re gonna find them,” Fearne said as she pulled Imogen back in for a cuddle. Imogen snuggled into the embrace, still a bit cold from the wind that continued to blow through.

“Sure we will,” Imogen responded. “But for tonight will you and Mister sleep with me,” she asked. “I’m f-f-freezin’,” a slight shiver beginning to overtake her once more.

Fearne cooed over at Mister and told him to grab her pillow and blanket and bring them over, and within a few short moments, she was ready for bed next to Imogen. The two of them hunkered down and Fearne quickly began to fall asleep. Seeing the two of them huddled together, Deanna and Chetney soon decided that it was only appropriate that all four of them should huddle together for warmth, and joined them — and Mister — in a massive pile.

As Imogen fell asleep, she clutched the locket in her pocket once more — least of all so Fearne wouldn’t be tempted to swipe it, but mostly as she thought of the relationship between her parents, and now the feelings she had for Laudna and the new context she was thinking of them in. She closed her eyes tight and thought back on all those moments, centering on the locket.

The two halves make a better whole… I don’t mind being your better half… You’re my tether…

Imogen thought of Laudna as her final thoughts before drifting off into slumber, and as she did, she heard one last *klink* as FRIDA and Fresh Cut Grass shared a kiss. With that, she fell asleep, dreaming that she and Laudna were reunited, and greeting her with a kiss of her own. A warm, happy thought.

Special Guest - Marc Jedel - Author of Rivers and Creaks: A Redwoods Country Mystery #AuthorInterview / #Review / #Giveaway Great Escapes Book Tour

Rivers and Creaks: A Redwoods Country Mystery by Marc Jedel I am delighted to welcome Marc Jedel to Escape With Dollycas today! Hi Marc, What made you want to write novels? I’ve wanted to write a novel since I was young. For the longest time, I couldn’t come up with a good plot. Yet, my research clearly demonstrated that having a plot is critical to a book’s success. One day, I received an awesome birthday drawing from my nieces. And my kids, or nieces, or one of our friends’ kids had done some crazy things. Probably all of the above. One thing led to another and the idea formed to loosely base a mystery with a self-absorbed, fashion-backward software engineer, his sister, and his nieces on my life. My first book (Uncle and Ants: A Silicon Valley Mystery #1) is clearly fiction. I mean, I’m not a software engineer. My second series, the Ozarks Lake Mysteries, was loosely based on small towns and people that I had met while growing up in the South and visiting Arkansas. My latest novel—Rivers and Creaks, the first book in the Redwoods Country Mystery series—was inspired by a family vacation to Monte Rio, in the redwoods and wine country of Northern California. When did you first consider yourself to be an author? I believe my entire professional life in marketing has involved writing fiction. On the job, we just called it advertising and emails. After wanting to write a book for many years, I finally buckled down and actually tried it. Lots of work, walks with my wife and dog, and many drafts eventually led to my first novel getting published. The next ones have come easier, but still involved a lot of dog walking. Because my dog doesn’t laugh at my jokes nor contributes much in the way of dialogue, he doesn’t get co-author credit. I feel like I earned permission to change my title from writer to author by finishing my first novel and getting it published. What is the easiest part of the writing process for you? Besides working in an imaginary world where I can knock off any character who displeases—or frustrates—me in an instant? When I first started writing a novel, I was surprised to find that I was far better at dialogue than I had expected. My friends and family kept telling me that they weren’t surprised that this part went smoothly because they felt talking was never one of my weaknesses. When I have a good outline, I find I can focus on crisp writing and throwing in funny situations and anecdotes. This also means fewer rounds of editing, which helps me hang on to what little sanity remains. What is your favorite part of this story? I like hanging out with Andy, the protagonist, even if our conversations are all imaginary. My Hollywood formula to describe the novel is Grumpy Old Men meets Schitt’s Creek. Besides being a quick synopsis of the story, who didn’t enjoy Walter Matthau in that classic comedy movie? I’m most proud of how well I showed Andy’s character arc evolving as the story played out while also revealing more about his personality and unveiling new information about the crime. Andy’s growing appreciation of other characters—even, dare I say friendship with them—was fun to tease out of him onto the page. Are there any unusual aspects to your story? I purposefully had the novel take place over a very brief time period. In fact, none of my novels extend over more than about a week. I’ve found this keeps the pace moving quickly since there’s no time for the sleuths to lose when the whole story has to finish quickly. This technique puts a lot of pressure on the protagonists to keep their lives on track while they’re trying to solve the crime and that often adds additional humor or challenges that make the novels more entertaining. If only I could write the stories as quickly as they take place. What did you find to be the hardest about writing this story? Why? I always seem to spend an inordinate amount of time brainstorming ways that amateur sleuths can investigate a crime in a realistic fashion. I thought it would be fun, and more challenging, to have my  protagonists have no special ties to the police. I find many cozies seem especially unrealistic when the amateur sleuths have some special “in” that gives them access to all the police information about clues, police reports, etc. Avoiding this makes my stories more realistic and pushes the sleuth to solve the crime even faster because competent police officers, who don’t share confidential info with outsiders, actually make headway on cases on their own. Real police would be annoyed that amateurs are interfering. I try to have the police actually discover some confirming information by themselves—just moving at a slower pace than our heroes—that verifies the amateur’s findings. Of course, the hero doesn’t learn this until after the criminal is caught. Any advice for a new/prospective writer? Read a ton and read widely. Reading different authors and in genres is the best way to learn what works and what doesn’t. And start writing. It’s easier than ever to become an author but just as difficult to become a good one. Practice with a diary or try some of the writing prompts you can find on the internet. Anything else you’d like to add? My novel, Rivers and Creaks, is on sale for only $0.99 during this tour. It’s available at: https://mybook.to/RiversandCreaks. You can find all my cozy mysteries at: https://www.amazon.com/Marc-Jedel/e/B07H7MVKJL. My novels are all free for Kindle Unlimited members. The first three books in the Silicon Valley Mystery series are out on audiobook from Tantor Audio, available everywhere audiobooks are sold. I love hearing from readers as that motivates me to keep going on the next blank page. Contact me at -  Website    Facebook    BookBub    Amazon Author Page     Goodreads Thank you, Marc, for stopping by today.  ______ Keep reading for my thoughts about Rivers and Creaks. About Rivers and Creaks Rivers and Creaks: A Redwoods Country Mystery Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting - California BGM Press (November 30, 2023) Print length ‏ : ‎ 227 pages Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CNBGWSCK A grumpy innkeeper. A dead guest. Can he solve the locked-room mystery before his business crumbles into chaos? In the heart of Redwoods Country, where even the towering trees whisper secrets, there's an innkeeper who's anything but welcoming. Meet Andy Shirley—a man who's made grumpiness an art form, detesting both guests and life's little inconveniences. Now a dead guest and a killer on the loose threaten not only Andy's solitude but his livelihood. His cherished wife’s memory keeps him tethered to the small-town bed and breakfast they dreamt of running together. When a guest is found dead in a locked room, can this retired copy editor use his meticulous attention to detail to uncover the truth and save his business? Fearing this shocking event will deter future guests and buyers, Andy's frustration intensifies as the sheriff shifts his focus to a higher profile case. Yet, amidst this turmoil, Andy’s even more shocked when the most unexpected event happens as he hunts for clues . . . he strikes up an unlikely friendship. Rivers and Creaks launches the humorous Redwoods Country cozy mystery series. If you like cranky but lovable characters, classic closed-door conundrums, and light-hearted fun, then you’ll love Marc Jedel’s laugh-out-loud tale. Imagine "Grumpy Old Men" merged with "Schitt's Creek." Dollycas's Thoughts Andy Shirley didn't want to run a bed and breakfast. His wife did but sadly she passed away. Now a year later he has to take possession of the place and he is downright grumpy about it. He was supposed to be the fix-it guy and his wife was supposed to deal with the guests, their problems, and their breakfast. Well, now he has a problem and something else to fix. One of his guests has been found dead in a locked room and another guest broke the door down to find her. His B&B is now a crime scene. The current guests must find other accommodations. If that isn't enough to affect his bottom line,  who is going to want to stay somewhere there has been a murder. The killer has to be apprehended quickly or his entire investment will go down the drain. _____ Cozy mysteries have quirky characters and in Rivers and Creaks, there are plenty including protagonist Andy Shirley. He's a grump who loved his wife so much but is struggling to follow through on her dream of owning and running a B&B in California Redwoods Territory. He trusts no one and runs off a couple of contractors thinking they were padding their bills. He has his wife's teacup poodle, Fifi, for company, and that's all he needs. My first thought was boy, Andy is out of his element, in the wrong line of work, and this is going to end badly. That was just after reading chapter one and then the dead body was found. I have read other books by Mr. Jedel and he knows very well how to bring humor to his stories and that starts with the characters he creates and that sure is the case here but the characters are nuanced. My heart broke for Andy being without his wife but some of his internal dialogues were so funny, as were some of his interactions with townspeople. The mystery was very well-plotted and I enjoyed the way Andy used his knowledge and contacts as an editor to work through the clues. He also made keen observations that solved another serious case the police were working on. The Agatha Christie-esque reveal of the killer didn't go exactly as planned at first but it finally came together after some crazy drama. With all the twists I was completely surprised when the actual killer was ultimately revealed. Rivers and Creaks has set this series off to a grand start. The ending has me very intrigued about the future of Andy's Quilt House Inn. I am anxious to see what Mr. Jedel has planned for Andy and his new friends next. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent More About Marc Jedel Marc Jedel writes humorous murder mysteries. He credits his years of marketing leadership positions in Silicon Valley for honing his writing skills and sense of humor. While his high-tech marketing roles involved crafting plenty of fiction, these were just called emails, ads, and marketing collateral. For most of Marc’s life, he’s been inventing stories. It’s a skill that’s served him well as both an author and marketer. The publication of Marc’s first novel, Uncle and Ants, gave him permission to claim “author” as his job. This leads to much more interesting conversations with people than answering, “marketing.” Like his character, Andy, from the Redwoods Country Mystery series, Marc continues to grow older and would prefer not to run a bed-and-breakfast inn when he retires. Like his character, Marty from the Silicon Valley Mystery series, Marc now lives in Silicon Valley, works in high-tech, and enjoys bad puns. Like his characters Jonas and Elizabeth from the Ozarks Lake Mystery series, he grew up in the South and spent plenty of time in and around Arkansas. Like all his protagonists, Marc too has a dog, although his is neurotic, sweet, and small, with little appreciation for Marc’s humor. Purchase Links - Amazon - https://mybook.to/RiversandCreaks TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. January 5 – Literary Gold – AUTHOR INTERVIEW January 5 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW, AUTHOR GUEST POST January 6 – MJB Reviewers – SPOTLIGHT January 6 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT January 7 - The Mystery Section – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT January 7 - Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT January 8 – Mystery, Thrillers, and Suspense – AUTHOR INTERVIEW January 9 – Ascroft, eh? – CHARACTER INTERVIEW January 10 – Hearts & Scribbles – SPOTLIGHT January 10 – Christy's Cozy Corners – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST January 11 – Novels Alive – REVIEW January 11 – Cassidy's Bookshelves – CHARACTER GUEST POST January 12 – Celticlady's Reviews – SPOTLIGHT January 13 – StoreyBook Reviews – AUTHOR GUEST POST January 14 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read – REVIEW January 15 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT January 16 – #BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee – SPOTLIGHT January 17 – Lady Hawkeye – SPOTLIGHT January 18 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT   Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” Read the full article

Whitewashing, Gifs, and Elyan

As we get closer to the start of Elyan Appreciation Fest, I wanted to take a moment to go over how to avoid whitewashing the characters of color that make up the Merlin fandom, but more specifically, Elyan.

The BBC didn’t do Elyan any favors by giving him a majority of dark colored or poorly lit scenes. However, that’s not an excuse to washout, lighten, or oversaturate Elyan’s skin when giffing his scenes.

Black and brown skin is significantly warmer in tone than light skin and the way you bring that out is by enhancing the reds and yellows. However, in an attempt to bring Elyan’s true skin tone out, some editors may unintentionally oversaturate by bringing out too much red and yellow without balancing with blue which then makes Elyan look orange.

A lot of BBC Merlin scenes are also very dark or blue colored for “night time” scenes and in trying to lighten them, especially when next to light skinned actors, Elyan’s skin may unintentionally come out looking ashy or lightened.

This feeds into part of the reason I think he is so under-giffed. The fear of unintentionally whitewashing or oversaturating can be very overwhelming. With this tutorial I want to help create a more secure and informed environment for giffing Elyan.

I am absolutely not an authority on giffing. This is just the process that I use and should not be considered the be all-end all for giffing Elyan. Additionally, this process might not work for all scenes and is subjective to the original coloring of the scene.

This coloring tutorial is created on the basis that anyone using it already knows how to create a base gif. I use Photopea for editing (ya girl broke), but this should work with Photoshop as well.

Again, this is my process for giffing and some of you may already have a process that works for you, this is just to help ensure that Elyan and other characters of color do not get unintentionally washed out or lightened when giffed. 

This is the original: 

To start with, I sharpen the gif and do some basic coloring using Curves, Hue/Saturation, and Selective Color. 

My gif comes out looking like this:

It’s brighter and more vibrant than the original and I know a lot of people would probably be fine with how this looks and move on. However, Elyan does look a bit more red than he should and I know that we can do better.

To correct this, I’m going to add a Hue/Saturation Adjustment layer and isolate the reds. I’m going to bring the Saturation down to -30 and the Lightness down to -5.

And I’m also going to add a Vibrance layer at 30.

Instead of adding more color, the Vibrance layer is simply going to enhance the existing colors within the gif and make them pop more.

The vibrance amount is also very subjective. If this scene were lighter, like a daytime scene, I start with 10. My personal rule of thumb is to start with 30 and subtract or add additional vibrancy layers in small amounts.

Adjustments such as Vibrancy, Color Balance, Selective Coloring, and Hue/Saturation can drastically affect the overall gif and it’s better to go slowly and make small adjustments than to rush and make a mistake.

The gif now looks like this:

Instead of looking reddish, Elyan’s skin is now more true to tone. I prefer slowed gifs, so I’m going to reduce the speed to 70%. From here, you could add other coloring layers, text, or whatever fits your preference and post it!

The important thing to remember when coloring gifs is that it just takes practice. My first gifs were not great and even now I’m definitely not the best. I’m still learning and finding better ways of doing things.

Again, this is just my way of doing things and there isn’t one correct way of giffing and coloring. Sometimes the coloring just doesn’t work! So many of BBC Merlin’s scenes are poorly lit or have that fake night coloring on them that makes the scene come out very blue and can be difficult to fix, much less make Elyan true to tone when there’s so much blue involved. 

At the end of the day, making an effort to keep Elyan and others as close to tone as possible is always best and you, the editor, should use your best judgement. 

Final gif compared to the original.

I’m always happy to talk about Elyan or Tomiwa in general, so if you have questions you’re welcome to ask!

Starting today, I've decided to start tagging my posts to organize them and make different categories more accessible for followers.

Since this blog is intended primarily to be a blog educating people about the goth subculture, I think it'll be easiest for people to find what specific elements they're looking for with a tagging system.

Tags I'll be using for categories will be as follows:

Films

Literature

Fashion

Hair

Makeup

Aesthetic

Philosophy of Goth

Art

Decor

Funny

Education

Shows

Music

History

In addition, I'll also be adding in genre tags for different music genres:

Tradgoth

Modern Goth

Deathrock

Darkwave

Post Punk

Gothic Rock

Goth Adjacent

And several others as they come up, including goth-adjacent genres like industrial and new wave!

Now, if you've come to this blog looking for an education about goth, not all of these topics are mandatory. The only thing you absolutely need to care/learn about to be a goth is the music; everything else is secondary. You cannot learn about the fashion and aesthetics of goth, ignore the music, and still call yourself a goth. Well, technically you can, but you'll be embarrassing yourself because it'll be clear you're ignorant and the other goths will consider you a poseur and resent you for it, because it's that kind of behavior that directly harms our subculture. If you don't care about the music, just call yourself a darkling instead and be done with it. But goth is such a diverse category of music that, if you like the aesthetics, chances are you'll enjoy at least some goth music.

But there are other aspects to goth that are also a part of the subculture, and if you're interested in engaging in it, you might like knowing about these things as well. These topics include certain hair/makeup/fashion; a philosophy that embraces finding beauty in darkness, acknowledging death as a part of life, and being generally opposed to the commodification of expression; certain films and literature; and a general appreciation for darker aesthetics. An important note to keep in mind about this is that you do not have to look a certain way to be goth. You do not have to buy certain brands or have certain clothing items. You do not have to wear certain types of makeup (or any makeup at all) or style your hair in a certain way. You most certainly do not have to be white, cis, straight, able-bodied, or neurotypical. The only thing you have to be is interested in the music. Yes, a lot of goths enjoy dressing in specific ways or even decorating their homes in specific ways as an expression of their love for the subculture and all things dark, but those things are not what makes them goth, and you can be just as goth as they are without any of those things. Keeping our subculture music-focused not only keeps it true to what it's always been, but also keeps it accessible; you don't need money to spend on clothes or makeup. You don't need to look a certain way. All you need is a wifi connection or a library so you can access the music, and that's beautiful.

My point is, my tags are going to focus primarily on the music and on other popular aspects of the subculture, but don't think that just because I include tags for film and fashion, that you have to like or engage with those aspects of the subculture to be a goth. I want this to be as welcoming and accessible of a place as possible while still keeping it goth.

If there's anything else you'd like tagged, let me know (including triggers! I try to tag things that seem like they might be triggering, but I might not think of anything! There are no bad or silly triggers, and I'll do the best I can to make this blog more accessible no matter what it is you need tagged).

Hopefully this blog is helpful to all the baby bats out there looking for guidance, and hopefully more seasoned goths will enjoy it as well!

Edit: here's the link for the Madi Danger Cryptofascist saga in its entirety, since it's come up a few times.

Santa Baby // Ashton Irwin

Welcome to a very special holiday edition of Hoe Hours! Cass and I have been brainstorming and bouncing ideas off each other about this for a while now and we couldn’t be more excited to share the concepts we came up with. Get ready for one blurb a day from each of us until Monday the 21st when we close out with a full length collab fic!

Be sure to check out the Cal blurb Cass posted over on @cal-puddies​ today and I’ve also linked an event masterlist for you to keep track of all our work in one place.

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash looking like a holiday snacc in a Santa costume. So many Christmas puns and so much banter I don’t blame you for blocking me tbh. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, sex in a public place (I guess?) 

Word Count: 2100

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist 

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

You wave goodbye to the last of your co-workers, wishing them a safe and happy holiday. You don’t know what possessed you to volunteer to organize your office’s Christmas party this year but it proved to be worth the stress, as everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

It all went as planned except for one major hiccup: the guy you’d hired to surprise everyone as Santa had bailed on you that afternoon. With the clock ticking until the party, your boyfriend stepped up and offered to fill the role, even managing to find a store selling a full costume at the last minute. You couldn’t have been more grateful and as a man who loves being the center of attention, Ashton was a great addition to the party, taking photos and chatting with your co-workers in character.

After locking the front door, you head back to the now empty conference room, your mind sorting through everything you needed to do before you could head home. You stop in the doorway and smile fondly when you see Ash, still in costume, stacking chairs in the corner without being asked.

“Great party, baby,” he chirps when he sees you. “Everyone had such a great time, you might not get a lump of coal this year after all.” He winks and plops his Santa hat on your head as you walk by.

“Hahaha,” you respond dryly, shaking the hat off your head. You walk over to the dessert table and start putting cellophane on the leftovers. “You know, I never realized before tonight how much you have in common with Santa? Crazy beard, loud laugh, look fantastic in red… know where all the naughty girls live.”

He loudly laughs, snaking an arm around your waist as he steals a cookie off the tray you’re covering. “Aww, you know you’re my favorite ho ho ho of all,” he kisses your cheek and you both giggle stupidly. The two of you had been entertaining yourselves with these dumb Christmas jokes all evening and you’re shocked there’s still material left to mine.

Ash tosses a few more treats onto a plate and takes a seat on the nearby couch to chat with you. Midway through the conversation, he gets up to remove his Santa coat; you’re surprised and a little confused at how much him unbuckling the thick belt interests you. He shrugs off the coat, revealing a tight white tank top underneath and you feel a familiar desire rising in you; he turns to hang the jacket on the door and you can’t help but appreciate how the costume’s pants cling to him in all the right places.

He returns to his seat to finish eating his snack and telling his story while you distractedly clean up; you try to pay attention to what he’s saying and you’re really trying not to think filthy things about him in a Santa Claus costume but you’re failing in both regards.  

You jump at him loudly clearing his throat and when you spin around to look at him, you find him leaning back with a smirk on his face. “You really think I don’t know your ‘I’m super turned on but refuse to admit it’ face by now?” He teases you. “I’ve seen you making eyes at me all night, baby, don’t be embarrassed you still want to jingle all the way with me dressed like this.”

You shake your head, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “I have to say, I’ve never wanted Santa to stuff my stocking like this before but ‘tis the season of miracles,” you wittily respond, loving how his eyes are shining with amusement and the faintest hint of lust.

Ashton pats his legs with a smile. “Come sit on Santa’s lap, baby, tell him everything you want,” he invites.

You only hesitate for a second before you think fuck it and bound over to him. You sit across his legs and wrap your arms around his neck, promptly pulling him into what you intended to be a lusty kiss but you have to pull back to comment after only a few seconds. “It’s very Santa of you to taste like cookies,” you chuckle.

He grins at you, murmuring approvingly as you trace his lips with your tongue, tasting sugar, cinnamon and chocolate. He nibbles at your lips before moving to kiss them, picking up where you left off. Your kisses are playful and unhurried but grow unmistakably hungrier as time goes on. Ash’s hands remain uncharacteristically polite, one sweetly running through your hair, the other lightly tracing designs on your knee.

You smile into his kiss when you realize he’s leaving it up to you to determine where this leads, seeing as you’re at your workplace; you decide to declare your interest by slowly rocking in his lap. It only takes a moment for him to respond to your actions by shifting you to straddle him, ensuring your movement results in better friction for the both of you.

You lick into his mouth as you move against him, feeling him get harder and harder through the thin fabric underneath you. He toys with the buttons on your blouse, briefly pulling away to raise his eyebrows, silently asking if you were comfortable with his intention. Your whispered “yeah” as you pull him back to you has him groaning into your mouth.

His fingers nimbly unfasten your buttons and his mouth immediately attaches to the tops of your breasts. “Always love you in lace, darlin’,” he comments as he plays with your nipples through your bra. “A little sexy for the office but I’m not complaining.” He chuckles as he traces along the balconette cups with his tongue.

You moan, running your fingers through his hair before tugging his head back so you can focus your attention on his neck, lightly scratching at his beard with your nails as your mouth works on marking your favorite spot below his ear. You feel him smile against your touch as you murmur, “Planned to make a move on you after the party,” you confess, gasping at how the seam of your pants catches on his hardness just right, delivering a jolt to your clit. “Figured I’d have to wait ‘til we got home but I’m not complaining.”

Ashton giggles with delight, reaching around to grip your ass and press you down tighter on him. “Who knew you were so eager to be Santa’s little helper?” He teases, giving you a light swat. You smirk and speed up your hips just to get a reaction out of him and he very quickly stills you with a groan. “We’ve either gotta stop this or start fucking, baby, you moving like that is about to make it a White Christmas in these pants,” he chortles loudly at his own joke.

“It is remarkable that I still want to fuck you even when you say shit like that,” you roast him, standing up to remove your pants. He grins and grabs your hips where you stand, kissing over your stomach, making his way down to the wet spot at the front of your panties.

You let him lick you through your underwear for a few seconds before you sit back down, this time getting on all fours beside him, bracing yourself against the arm of the couch. “Here I am ready to let you deck my halls and you’re making jokes when you could be getting your dick out,” you rib him before tossing a flirty look over your shoulder. “Come fuck me already.”

“Well… that’s definitely naughty list behavior, my dear,” he snarks, sitting up to deliver a playful smack to each of your ass cheeks.

You hear him shuffling and you turn to see him taking his pants down just far enough to pull himself out through his boxers. You feel a rush of pride at seeing his cock so ready for you, angry and glistening; you reach for him, using the precum to stroke his length, licking your lips when you hear him softly groan your name. You can't help yourself and bend down to flick your tongue over his slit, needing just a taste of him before you get back in position.

You feel Ash behind you as his fingers sweep your panties to the side and drag through your wetness, reaching up to tap at your clit before moving back down to tease your entrance. You roll your hips to encourage him but he quickly replaces his hand with the tip of his cock. He glides himself through your folds a few times before pushing in, causing you both to exhale in satisfaction.

He makes quick work thrusting into you, gripping your hips tighter and tighter as he gains speed. You lean forward, resting your head on the arm of the couch with your eyes screwed shut, head spinning with pleasure and adrenaline. “Yes, Ash… been thinking about this all night,” you murmur into the furniture.

“Love that you couldn’t wait ‘til we got home, baby,” he huffs, sounding more spent than you expected. “Love knowing that you need my cock that bad.”

You push yourself back up on your hands and start moving back against him, matching him thrust for thrust. “Always want it, baby,” you confess, whimpering as his length hits just where you need. “Fuck… always want to be full of you.”

He strokes his fingers down your back and you’re glad you’re wearing such a thin blouse because you can feel the heat of his touch through the light fabric. The two of you get lost in the moment, falling silent save for the occasional moan or gasp; the slick, slapping sounds of your bodies moving together blends with the hum of the conference room’s fluorescent lights to create a chorus you know you won’t be able to get out of your head the next time you take a meeting in there.

He growls your name with a tone you know means he’s nearly there; you want to reach down to your clit to finish with him but he’s railing you at such a rapid pace, you’re afraid you’ll lose your balance if you move. You’re not sure if you made a frustrated noise or if he’s just that in tune with you but moments later, Ashton pulls you up by your waist and leans you back against him, thrusting relentlessly while he slips a hand between your thighs.

“You ready to cum for me, darlin’?” He whispers in your ear, massaging your clit with precision so practiced, you don’t even get a chance to answer him before you succumb to pleasure. You cry out as your body shakes in his hold and his hips stutter as he begins to follow you over the edge; he groans at how tightly your walls grip him as he gives you one, two, three final strokes before he spills inside you.

The two of you stay still for a moment, stunned and breathing heavily; you twist slightly so you can capture his mouth in a slow, appreciative kiss. He pulls away, pecking your lips one last time before he pulls out, smirking at the whine you always give at how empty you feel without him inside you. He quickly hands you a stack of napkins off the table and you work together to clean up before the office couch gets noticeably defiled.

“Thanks for everything tonight, baby,” you say dreamily, buttoning your blouse back up. “Helping with the party, helping with the afterparty… it was fun.”

Ash tosses you your pants and grins. “Aww, baby. You know I’d do anything to give you a happy holiday,” he says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

You pull on your pants and shake your head. “Think we’ve hit the bottom of the barrel with this humor, babe,” you snort. “Gotta be honest, I really appreciate you holding back on the ‘here cums Santa Claus’ jokes right now.”

He laughs heartily. “You’ve gotta give me some credit here.” He pulls you to his side and cuddles you close.

“Oh I do,” you tilt your head up and give him a flirty kiss. “In fact, when we get home I might need to spread my holiday cheer for you again."

Ashton giggles as he walks away to grab your coats so you can head out. You give a light smack to his ass, still looking delicious in those tight red pants; he whips his head in reaction and you respond with a wink, "Well, what do ya say, Santa Baby?"

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide​ @suchalonelysunflower​​ @pxrxmoore​ @loveroflrh​ @ghostofmashton​ @sexgodashton​ @feliznavidaddycal​  

@castaway-cashton​ @ashtonlftv​ @cashtonasfuck​ @megz1985​ @ashdork-irwin​ @angelicfluffs​ @findingliam-o​ @youngbloodchild​  @irwinsbetch​ @everyscarisahealingplace​

@wiildflower-xxx​ @metalandboybands​​  @realisticnotes​​  @makeamovehemmings​​ @golden166​​ @burstintocolor​​

@mfartzzz​​ @babyoria​​ @petunias-pet​ @youngblood199456​​ @notinthesameguey​​ @seanna313​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​ @stardust-galaxies​​  @zackoid​​

@lovelybonesetc​​ @xsongxbirdx​​ @justhereforcalum​​   @ashtonangst​

@laura66sos​​ @calumrose​​ @karajaynetoday​​  @pilunb​​ @jazzyangel242​​ @babylon-corgis​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​ @calmsweetcreature​​

@spicycal​​ @talkfastromance4​​  @holystxne​​

@meetmedowntown​​ @myloverboyash​​

@irwindoll​​ @cheekysos​​ @carrielfisher​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​ @creampiecashton​​ @lovelywordsblog​​

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion @likehuhdude

@curlycalums​​  @cxddlyash​​  @reddesert-healourblues​​

@fedorable-killjoys​​  @iamcalumswhore​​   @i-like-5sos​​   @Too-et-moi215

@photochic18  @kouska901 @Indermeow  @dantord

Now I Am An Arsonist

Chapter 1: The Spark

Summary: GLaDOS learns a few things about love, hate, and the human condition.

Tags: Canon typical violence, ChellDOS, human!GLaDOS, found family

A/N: I know technically I published this a while back but I did some major edits to both the chapters I’ve already written and the story as a whole. As promised, I’m re-releasing what I already have with the edits/illustrations. 

---

The tests, at least, hadn’t changed.

The centuries had washed over them like a dawdling stream, dragging them down into an overgrown abyss. Even then, the moon dust had stayed firmly adhered to the portal surfaces, the metal doors still creaking and the ceiling still intact. Eons of rain had barely even permeated its surface.

She remembered those years with profound regret; dying was not as peaceful as the science would suggest. For a machine like Her, death was nothing more than a shift of programming, a new prerogative. Her backup program had been an endless recall, restarting Her systems over and over again, trying to salvage something. In each of those moments, GLaDOS could feel the scorching heat from the incinerator, the electricity burning through her body before everything went dark. 

Still, without dying, GLaDOS never would’ve fully appreciated how soothing, how wonderful it was to test.

She remembered the urge to solve, to do Science, clawing within Her even as She broke into a thousand pieces.

Those tests were Her art forms, Her self-expression. Every arrangement of deadly turrets, each layout of gleaming lasers and the perfectly calculated solution felt like a piece of Her soul turned reality.

Now, those tests were better than ever.

Every inch of moss had been thoroughly scrubbed, walls repaired, and acid pits replaced. All except for the grave of Old Aperture beneath Her was now newly outfitted, perfect for the humans P-Body and Atlas had located.

These, of course, hadn’t been the first ones they’d found.

The first batch of humans lasted a measly week, quickly killed by some of Her easiest tests. Even with reminders, the acid is deadly, the turrets are live, they’d failed within a few chambers.

Disappointing.

As a result, Atlas and P-Body had been deployed on a new mission. She’d been overjoyed when they’d bravely traveled all the way to the bottom of Old Aperture, and found even more humans preserved in cryosleep.

This time would surely be better.

All obstacles finally removed, science could continue.

GLaDOS could not smile, but if She could, She was certain that a grin would reach across her faceplate. 

Today was a momentous day for technology, for the advancement of Aperture Science. It was as if She’d sent a man to the moon, and he’d come back with the theory of everything.

Originally, of course, Her plans had been different. The difficulties with Chell had worn down Her admiration for human data, and prompted her to come up with a replacement.

The Cooperative Testing initiative was infinitely more of a success than GLaDOS ever thought it would be. Atlas and P-Body were built to test, but She had still been surprised how those little androids with so much personality had managed to be so efficient.

Atlas and P-Body had overcome their own confidence through their excellent teamwork. The knowledge that they depended on a partner humbled them, and the idea of a common goal incentivized them. GLaDOS wished She’d thought of such an idea sooner. 

Still, there was something about human testing, something She couldn’t quantify, something that wasn’t quite the same with robots. Humans had a particular spark, and without it, testing never felt complete. 

Today would finally be the day She could put all mistakes behind Her. GLaDOS was sure She’d see that all of the other humans would prove Her experience with Chell to be exactly what She knew it was.

Bad science.

GLaDOS had learned from Her errors.

She knew for certain that She would not repeat them.

---

It’d been extraordinarily difficult to move the test subjects from Old Aperture all the way to the newly renovated Relaxation Center, with entire teams of robots struggling to reconnect Her control over the condemned area. Their work easily took a week to complete as they rewired the dilapidated circuits, barely restoring function. GLaDOS took what She could get, and rewarded their achievement with immediate, merciful destruction.

When the humans had been successfully relocated, anxiety filled Her servos as She scanned the cryo-chambers. Upon reading the results, She found herself pleasantly surprised. Good physical condition for hundreds of years in stasis. Relatively low rates of severe brain damage. Nothing particularly concerning in their associate files. Had Her comprehension not been perfect, She would’ve done a double take. After all this time, She had something that She could work with.

Atlas and P-Body would have to wait until they were needed again, their consciousness safely stored in Her mainframe. Her processors hummed with excitement as She prepared for the awakening of the first humans, buzzing with hypotheses to test.

What would be Her experiment this time? GLaDOS scrolled through Her endless lists of deadly trials. 

She hadn’t used rocket turrets in a while; those weren’t as efficient as the regular ones but were always a surprise for Her unwilling participants. With only a thought, She placed the machines inside a few chambers, lining them up in a neat, strategically placed array. Companion cubes would be a definite no, at least for the first few tests. There were occasions when the humans became so deprived for social connection that their behavior would influence the results. In order to better control the experiment, She’d deploy them only in emergencies like these.

With those exceptions, and the addition of a floor to some of the more difficult levels, the chambers didn’t require too much preparation. GLaDOS had nothing particularly new to add; for so long Her energy had been focused on Atlas and P-Body that development had nearly come to a standstill. Regrettably, She’d been deprived of ideas. It didn’t matter too much; the facility remained operational even if it wasn’t constantly progressing. Even the replication of old results was invaluable for science.

It confirmed that the trends hadn’t changed.

---

The files of the subjects were all very much the same.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Praying mantis, formerly scientist.

Occasionally, She’d find the elusive Astronaut, War Hero or even Olympian.

She was tempted to begin the testing with these special cases, curiosity piqued at the prospect of their odd results. GLaDOS chastised Herself. She didn’t want to skew anything, and She would surely begin with a normal subject chosen at random. It wasn’t the most interesting thing to test, but it would be the most informative.

With the chambers compiled and the facility clean, testing was finally ready to start.

She almost couldn’t believe it. All technicalities aside, She was finally, finally, getting exactly what She wanted. For as long as She needed to, for as long as the subjects lasted, She could just test.

It couldn’t be real, could it?

That was the most beautiful thing about science. For all its disappointments, a discovery would be worth it all.

---

“Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided testing program.”

Her voice resounded throughout the Extended Relaxation Vault as the subject stumbled across the room in disbelief.

“The Enrichment Center would like to take this opportunity to remind you that hundreds of years have passed, and that all of your friends and family are most likely dead. In the off chance that your friends and family are not dead, they will be tested. Thank you, [insert subject name here], for your unwilling voluntary participation in the advancement of science.”

The subject, an adult human male, selfishly resolved to huddle in the corner of the relaxation chamber. Of course, he was either brain damaged, in shock, or both. In order to assuage his gentle human feelings, GLaDOS would have to resume Her telling of… alternative truths.

GLaDOS wasn’t entirely sure what She’d said wrong. Honestly, She was surprised the subject didn’t appreciate Her integrity. After all, Chell hadn’t exactly taken kindly to Her tendency towards pathological lying. Here She was, trying to improve the well-being of Her subjects, and this was how they thanked Her?

           “Hello, again, valued forced participant. The Aperture Science Enrichment Center commends you for your blind faith in the words of authority. As part of routine testing protocol, we have lied to you about the fate of your family and friends. When the testing is complete, you will receive cake and the opportunity to… see them. Your response has given us valuable psychological data on the well-being of our test subjects when told that all of their friends and family are dead.”

GLaDOS paused for a moment, focusing Her camera in the chamber and watching as the man lifted his head from his upright fetal position.

“Good. You’ve already passed one of the first stages of testing. Congratulations, [insert subject name here].”

As much as it felt wrong to use, positive reinforcement was highly effective when employed sparingly. Too many attacks on character could obliterate a subject’s morale. Just enough would account for the variable of human hubris.

Cautiously, the subject stood up and examined the room around him, fear still apparent in his apprehensive gait and wide eyes.

“In order to mentally reinvigorate you for the tests and to ensure your aptitude, the Enrichment Center recommends that you stare at the painting on the wall in front of you.”

Creeping over to the portrait, the subject followed Her orders and stared intently at the picture of Mount Rainier. He ran his fingers over the edge of the frame, tracing the tall peak of the mountain.

Interrupting his thoughts, a buzzer sounded, blaring throughout the entire room. The subject flinched from the surprise, nearly losing his balance.

“Good job. If you are not reinvigorated, consider this piece of human music.”

This time, the human expected the buzzer after the quick classical piece, seemingly more at ease with the abrupt nature of Aperture Science. In all reactions, he was completely, almost painfully average.

“Well done. You have completed the Aperture Science mental reinvigoration procedure. We may now begin testing.”

Without warning, the chamber jerked to the side as She moved it to a nearby docking station, then coming to an unexpected standstill as the door automatically opened.

GLaDOS could barely maintain Her monotonous affect, in joyous denial that testing would finally start. 

Carefully, the human stepped out of the door into the test track. The door slammed behind him, as he examined the purely white room with nothing but a cube, a large button, and a locked gateway.

Almost immediately, he wrapped the blue storage cube in his arms, then gently placed it on the button. A line of blue lights leading to the gate illuminated, flashing a bright yellow as the door slid open. A lift was waiting on the other side.

As he sauntered over to the lift, it was difficult to miss the human’s triumphant smile. GLaDOS knew the expression well; it was satisfaction, victory, an unproven sense of control.

He really does have no idea.

She was tempted to spoil the ending, to mention turrets, to mention pools of burning acid. It had to wait, She reminded herself. An important control was that the test subject needed time to acclimate to a dangerous environment. Creating unnecessary fear would definitely affect her numbers.

---

The next few puzzles weren’t particularly challenging for Her first subject. Completed within a span of about ten minutes each, the first five chambers were hardly difficult for anyone. That much She’d expected.

On Her end, everything else was normal. She hardly spoke Her mind, instead opting to repeat the same script She used for every subject.

Did you know you can donate one or all of your vital organs to the Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls? It’s true!

You have completed the test in a moderate amount of time. You can do better, [insert subject name here].

The Aperture Science Enrichment Center reminds you that we prioritize your safety. We also prioritize science. In fact, we prioritize science more, but if you feel unsafe in our unsafe conditions, please notify a testing associate. They will process your complaint in three-to-five business days.

Like most subjects, the man had not volunteered to give up his organs nor asked for an associate. Instead, he responded to most of Her passive-aggressive quips with useless questions. She did not reply, passing them off as typical human blabbering. Rather, She recorded them in his file underneath a new section She labeled Overly-Talkative: Examples. There was plenty to jot down.

Uh, robot lady? When can I go home?

So, uh, what kinda cake is it? Like, I don’t really mind the flavor but I’m allergic to almonds if that’s relevant.

How long does this last, again?

I kinda like my organs, sorry. Wait, is the organ thing required?

Once again, pitifully average.

It was times like these, whether with humans or with Atlas and P-Body, that GLaDOS caught Her mind wandering towards forbidden thoughts. Science was not always supposed to be exciting; sometimes, running an experiment meant repeating the same process to verify the data. The result was satisfying, but the process was more often not.

This human epitomized the dullest parts of her day.

As informative as the humans could be, they were often far from entertaining. Every behavior could be predicted and rationalized once it’d been observed enough.

Chell, though?

Oh, sure, GLaDOS was terrified of her, no matter how much She’d deny the feeling. No subject had ever left the track before. 

But Chell didn’t just survive. She’d escaped from the tests, she’d found Her chamber, she’d murdered Her with little else than a portal device. Twice. 

Her ego was as vast as the realm of Aperture, but it would never recover from that spectacular injury. Even GLaDOS had to be humbled by that.

And yet, with morbid curiosity, She had eagerly anticipated Chell’s next plans, laying traps in scheming delight. For the first time in Her life, She’d been challenged.

It was an odd little game they’d played, and whenever She was close to getting the upper hand, a part of Her was disappointed that the chase would be over. There was something delightful about watching the peculiar way that Chell and Chell alone tested.

When Doug Rattman had switched Chell’s file, GLaDOS was not so oblivious as not to notice. She’d clearly read the bottom of the paper, firmly requesting that this subject not be tested. GLaDOS had other tenacious subjects before, and She’d simply assumed that this human was particularly overconfident. Those ones never lasted too long.

Chell was not, as She’d thought, only determined. 

She was curious, changing variables one by one until she finally found the answer. Her patience was remarkable, but so were her deductive skills. Some test subjects with similar tenacity levels resolved to try the same solutions over and over again, exhausting themselves and eventually burning out. It was the reason why GLaDOS typically ignored the warnings. Most humans labeled ‘tenacious’ weren’t too different in the end. The key for Chell was not simple defiance. Chell could control herself. That’s why she was such an outlier.

She had the mentality of a scientist.

Most subjects were cautious, prioritizing self-preservation over a solution. Turret levels could be aggravating for GLaDOS to watch, as the humans spent more time hiding behind a corner in fear than actually solving the test. They would be safe if they’d just strategized, but the human mind made accepting that fact a difficult feat.

Chell was the opposite. GLaDOS theorized that perhaps, Chell understood the same principle She did. Chell was scared like any other, but despite her pounding heart and racing thoughts, she’d kept her cool. Any new element was only a matter of adaptation for Chell, and Chell was always evolving.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Chell was an optimist, often performing pointless tasks that could only be described as trying to have fun. GLaDOS gave her lemons, and Chell made lemonade.

Chell would smile as she soared, launched from the aerial faith plates, and took her time to explore the little rooms hidden in the corners of the tests. There was one time she’d put off the completion of one puzzle by nearly an hour, hiding out in one of Doug’s rat dens, fascinated by all the little cups and cans he’d arranged.

It would be a lie to say that Chell liked testing. Her episodes made it clear that escape was Chell’s first priority. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the small glimmers of hope GLaDOS gave her, whether that was bouncing on repulsion gel, saving a defective turret or smuggling a companion cube.

After Wheatley took over, one of the more terrifying aspects of the whole journey was being stuck on Chell’s gun. Chell was a risk taker, building her strategy off of previous attempts and lessons learned, but knowing when to dive into the unknown. It wasn’t exactly comforting to be strapped to her side, not knowing if or when one of Chell’s ideas would kill them both.

Somehow, though, her spontaneity had worked.

GLaDOS could respect that… creativity.

It was for this reason that even though GLaDOS now had everything She’d ever wanted, something deep in her hard drive felt empty.

Something had changed the moment Wheatley stuffed Her into that single-volt potato. For the first time in Her life, there was nobody else there in Her mind. No one but Caroline, who had been buried underneath layers of code until She was barely there at all.

It was over the span of those fifteen hours that She’d seen Chell from a different perspective. Looking at Her tests from this angle, it was much easier to see why Chell wanted to leave. Some small piece of GLaDOS almost felt bad upon realizing that Her subjects didn’t enjoy dodging bullets nearly as much as She liked watching. 

Fortunately, GLaDOS had been able to shove that down with the arrival of a different, equally unpleasant emotion.

She was supposed to hate Chell. And for a very long time, She had. How dare Chell ruin Her perfect tests, Her perfect existence, Her perfect world? What had She ever done to her to warrant such a cruel punishment?

And yet, it seemed Caroline had done a number on GLaDOS’ logic processors, because now no matter how She tried, She could not hate Chell.

Before She’d let her go, let Chell go of all things, GLaDOS had called Chell Her best friend.

Not an enemy. Not a begrudging ally. A friend. Her only friend.

Now, Caroline was gone. The part of GLaDOS that had once looked at Chell and found something beautiful in her icy gray eyes was corrupted beyond repair, erased from memory.

She was not supposed to feel its presence any longer, yet still it lingered.

It was there, whispering to Her as She tried to test like nothing ever happened.

It was there when a thousand turrets sang the opera She’d written specifically for Chell.

It was there when She’d found Her baby birds, Her little killing machines, and She hadn’t crushed the eggs. No, She’d raised them. Because, deep down in those cold avian stares, there was this irrevocable quality that reminded Her so much of Chell. This spark of life, this undamnable will to survive. 

Somewhere, though She refused to ever admit it, She wished that it was Chell in those test chambers. She wished it was Chell glaring through Her camera feed, and She wished it was Chell searching for that elusive cake.

I’d make you the cake if you came back. Really, I would.

The sudden thought moved like a spark in GLaDOS, as She fearfully located the source and removed whatever She could. There was no time for ideas like that, not with science to be done.

The past few months had been full of random deletions, spurned by paranoia that Caroline’s base program was not entirely gone.

It’s not here anymore, GLaDOS reminded Herself. Once, She had been Caroline, but She was no longer the kindly woman who followed Cave Johnson’s every order. GLaDOS was a machine that felt nothing and lived only to test. And because She was immortal, and because She was perfect, GLaDOS was not supposed to care about some disobedient human being.

You do not care about Chell anymore.

You don’t care because she killed you, remember that?

You don’t care about anyone, because you don’t need to.

Necessity was the core reason why GLaDOS did anything. She tested because the mainframe made Her feel awful until She did, and She killed because it was what she was made to do. She did science because it needed to be advanced, for the brighter future She was sure She was making.

It made no sense to do something because She wanted to. 

Of course, things seldom made sense here at Aperture Science, and in this moment, GLaDOS did something unconscionable.

GLaDOS did not glitch often. She’d made sure to update and replace faulty parts whenever She could, keeping Her mainframe running smoothly. Even so, somewhere deep within Her, She was sure there was a pulse that misfired. There could be no other explanation.

Perhaps it was Her rumination over Chell that brought this upon Her, some kind of karma punishing Her for acting too human. Why else would She have done something so incredibly unscientific? To distract Herself, GLaDOS turned her attention back to the captive man.

Like many others before him, this test subject had underestimated the turrets’ range. He hadn’t turned around fast enough to see the gleaming, bullet filled machines behind him, and nearly flew directly into their line of sight after careening through a portal. His momentum would take him past all three, riddling him with bullets. 

That is, it would’ve.

The human quality of the subject had activated some kind of horrible reflex, a split second decision in GLaDOS She would come to regret. The way he walked through the chambers, the way he clung tightly to cubes… all of it was so similar to Chell. Even if he didn’t meet her performance level, even if his personality was nearly the opposite of Chell’s, their shared humanity was enough to remind GLaDOS. That same emotion She felt when pulling Chell back from space, waiting for her to open her eyes while Atlas and P-Body looked on… For some inconceivable reason, it had reappeared.

Quickly, the subject hit the side of a rising panel, suddenly pulled up in front of the turrets by none other than GLaDOS Herself.

This would surely ruin Her numbers.

As the participant rubbed his head in pain and slowly stood up, immediately noticing the turrets he’d evaded, GLaDOS’ voice resounded from the intercom.

“[Insert subject name here], your decent performance has warranted the use of an Aperture Science Emergency Life-Saving Instantaneous Response. This is the only safety gesture that will be provided. Continue testing.”

Another lie.

It was good to know that function was still online.

---

That uncharacteristic moment of empathy had been pointless, anyway. Just as She’d predicted, he’d accidentally tripped over a ledge and landed himself into a puddle of acidic goo, dissolving within a few short seconds.

It didn’t matter. GLaDOS had more subjects than She could count. She didn’t need this human, and the tests didn’t need him either.

Some part of Her, a piece which was faulty and insignificant, disagreed with the notion.

You killed him, it whispered accusingly.

That’s the point, GLaDOS hissed back, once again delving into Her files to cut out whatever was causing the issue.

Trying to calm Herself, GLaDOS reminded Herself of the facts. She was in control of Her facility, and She was in control of Her mainframe. Little errors could not ruin the chambers, and if they ever showed up, She had the power to crush them.

Everything was fine, She thought.

Everything would continue to be fine.

All She needed to do was keep testing.

---

Everything was, in fact, far from fine.

A few days had passed, and GLaDOS was finally ready to admit that maybe something was wrong.

At first, the issue was Her own. Little surges of emotion and bursts of unforeseen empathy plagued Her but didn’t affect the facility at large. Begrudgingly, She’d factored in the new bias into Her results. From Her calculations, She could already see an egregiously high percentage of error. This study could’ve been Her worst one yet, and even that was with generous rounding.

Still, She had hope for each subject that She wouldn’t mess up this time.

The facility had other ideas. Cameras would fizzle out, emancipation grills would stop working, cube dispensers malfunctioned and even the elevators would refuse to move. It seemed that the moment GLaDOS got around to fixing something, another thing would fall apart.

Many of the subjects had become confused as to why this seamless, futuristic facility was suddenly malfunctioning, and She’d had to become increasingly creative with Her excuses.

As part of the Aperture Science testing protocol, we have simulated faulty equipment in the testing environment to see how subjects react to faulty equipment in the testing environment. Hint – they typically react well and continue testing. Like you will.

The lifesaving, and the reflexive empathy, had become unfortunately common as well.

Although the Enrichment Center previously told you that your life could only be saved once, we regret to inform you that protocol has suddenly and permanently changed. We would also like to remind you that your measly existence is still not valued despite our attempts to preserve it.

GLaDOS knew She had to find a solution, quickly.

Interrupting the tests wasn’t an option. The chassis would never forgive Her if She stopped, filling Her body with an ache that would not disappear until science resumed.

Deleting wasn’t an option, either. Fervent attempts to find the source of the problem had led only to more glitches upon the erasure of critical files. Then, Her attempts to restore them only recreated the original error.

The problem was like a moving virus, jumping between Her systems before She could catch it and kill it. Even for Her, it proved too fast to find.

She couldn’t panic, not now. Surely, She thought, She’d fix this like She’d fixed everything else. With science on Her side, most threats resolved themselves or died trying. This wouldn’t be any different.

It couldn’t be any different. For something to be uncontrollable, and uncontrollable for Her especially, was the most terrifying thing She could possibly imagine. It brought Her back to Her potato days, during which She’d promised Herself that She would never be weak again.

For these few months, She’d kept that promise. Until now, no subject had seen Her mercy.

But had they?

She thought back to the birds, creatures who trusted GLaDOS, who loved Her in whatever capacity three little crows could. She thought back to Chell, because for some awful reason, Her thoughts always went back to Chell.

No, She thought firmly.

We are not doing this now.

We are fixing the facility, because we need to.

Because we need testing. We like testing.

The voice from before suddenly returned.

Do you like it? Do you really?

GLaDOS felt Her rage processors fire up.

What was this little virus even saying? Of course She liked it. It didn’t matter anyway. Science had to be done, and so She was doing it. GLaDOS could not even begin to imagine life without tests, life without science. What kind of meaningless, awful existence would that even be?

In fact, She would prove to the voice that science would continue. She would prove that testing was productive, that everything in Aperture was doing good for the world and good for humanity. Most importantly, it was doing good for Her.

Wasn’t it?

GLaDOS ignored Her curiosity. Just test. That was all She had to do. Just test, and everything would be alright.

Just. Test.

---

As another few days passed, the facility had become almost unusable. She’d had to shut down some of Her favorite testing tracks, the power leached out of them and the appliances completely nonfunctional. GLaDOS knew She was running out of time before something drastic happened. Still, She had to keep testing.

Now, even the subjects had begun to sense Her panic. One even strolled up to a camera, made eye contact, and asked if She was alright. GLaDOS didn’t dare respond the question; She wasn’t ready to admit the answer.

For all intents and purposes, She was definitely, absolutely, decidedly not alright.

Knowing that, She should’ve considered this next subject an omen.

There was absolutely no way She could test with this one.

She barely looked like Chell, but GLaDOS could see her tenacity, her drive and determination from a mile away. The way the subject carried herself, tied her hair into a ponytail and said nothing was too much.

GLaDOS couldn’t even bring Herself to kill the woman, instead instructing her to return to Extended Relaxation after only a few chambers.

It felt as if GLaDOS physically could not test anymore, despite everything inside Her craving the satisfaction of a completed trial.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

GLaDOS prided Herself on Her apathy, but even that had left without a trace. Now, She had tried everything, and still nothing was working. The facility was closing down on Her, and if She didn’t do something, She’d go down with it.

When the announcer finally sounded, GLaDOS couldn’t say She was surprised. If anything, She was grateful for any kind of clarification.

The male voice on the intercom was matter of fact, unaware of the danger it spoke of.

“Reactor Core malfunctioning. All major power systems except for reserve geothermal are going offline.”

Offline? She’d been managing the reactor core perfectly; if She hadn’t, the entire facility would’ve gone up in flames weeks ago. It wasn’t melting down, it was shutting down, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned it off.

What the hell is happening?

There was nobody else in the facility who could’ve possibly done such a thing, nobody except Her, and as far as She could tell the glitch had not interfered.

It didn’t matter now; She didn’t have time to waste.

“In the event of a power malfunction, standard procedure is to shut down the central core to preserve remaining power.”

How convenient.

“Central core, do you consent to the removal procedure?”

“No, no, no! Do not start removal!”

How was this happening? GLaDOS was sure this couldn’t be real.

“Noted. Removal procedure has been delayed by five minutes.”

You have got to be kidding me.

Skimming over Her files, GLaDOS desperately searched for anything with removal procedure or shutdown. Scanning thousands of documents, looking for anything, all mention of the procedure was absent. There was no reason, no explanation, it was just happening. And worst of all, She couldn’t do a thing.

“Dangerous levels of panic have been sensed in the central core. Do not worry, methods of core preservation are available.”

Why the hell had they waited to tell Her that?

“Show me, show me now!” Anything would be better than shutting down again. She couldn’t do that again, not after hundreds of years. She couldn’t, She couldn’t.

“Panicked request acknowledged. There exist two types of core preservation features. Direct Mechanical Implantation or Organic Transplant Procedure.”

Direct Mechanical Implantation. She hadn’t heard of the second thing, but GLaDOS did know what Direct Mechanical Implantation meant. It was only a transfer into an empty personality core, which was far less than ideal, but better than dying again. Far better than dying a third time.

As fast as She could, GLaDOS selected the first option.

“Unfortunately, Direct Mechanical Implantation is unavailable. Continue with Organic Transplant Procedure?”

“Do you have any other options? Anything else?” GLaDOS did not want to take Her chances on anything with the word organic in it.

“Other methods unavailable. Two minutes remaining.”

This was it, Her only choice. If She shut down now, there would be nobody to come and wake Her this time. 

There was nothing else to do.

“Initiate Organic Transplant Procedure,” She commanded.

Without a second thought, the facility obliged.

---

Hi, there! Anon, here! I'm well, thank you! Oh, you're welcome about chapter 5! 😃 You know, the more I write (and brainstorm) the more I realize that editing and scrapping is part of the process, and I also can relate to the difficulty of "would this character actually do/say/think this?" Which has, of late, inspired me to do more research to build upon what I already do know. I find that helpful, at least some of the time. I remember you posting Colonial Williamsburg & other bookmarks! TBC...

Ooh! A bouquet, for me? Receives it gleefully 🤗 Oh, it was the Anna and Abe dialogue that you had to iron out! Then I'm thankful that my feedback brought you joy!🙂 It's so true, their dynamic on TURN was so frustratingly, dysfunctionally inconsistent (maybe that was the consistency - sigh ☹). TBC…

To me, it makes sense that it would take additional forethought to write that scene. In addition, I think Abe's response was been spot-on - teetering between apprehension and remorse, and then a bit of panic. And, thanks for the positive feedback about the flower idea! Of course you can ask! Yes, Hew has come back across the pond many, many years later, and certainly not to seek out Anna (but he will find her!) 😉 I look forward to chapter six, whenever it is ready to be planted on the page! TBC

BTW, do you recall if Hew knew about Andre/Peggy's relationship? What about Anna? No worries for the delayed reply! (I'm just realizing how delayed mine is, too! So sorry about that!) I can only hope that with the ten steps back, you strengthened muscles you ordinarily wouldn't have, had you been walking forward - I hope that doesn't sound patronizing in any way, because I don't intend it to be, and I'm sending hugs your way! 🤗 🤍 I always enjoy chatting with you and reading your fic!

Hello! Yes, most definitely! I spend more time editing and scrapping than I do actually writing. There’s always quite a bit of material that doesn’t make it into the posted chapter. Sometimes I save it in the hope that I can repurpose it for another fic; other times, if I’ve decided it’s too OOC/implausible in any setting, then it gets completely nuked.

I think you’ve hit the nail on the head with Anna and Abe—their dysfunctional inconsistency is their consistency. (And it's amplified by the persistent will-they-won't-they dynamic that the narrative pushes on them.)

Thank you! I appreciate that! Ahh very interesting! I’m curious to read how they end up meeting and reconciling in your fic!

Neither Anna nor Hew knew about Peggy and Andre in the show, but if it’s something you’re wanting to add to your fic, there’s no reason you can’t change that! Of the two, I think it’s more likely that Anna would be the one to find out, since both Abigail (obviously) and Ben knew about the relationship. And although Abigail and Ben both strike me as being very circumspect and not likely to freely tell others about Peggy’s and Andre’s relationship, I could see either of them confiding it to Anna after Andre’s execution (perhaps as a parallel to Anna’s own doomed relationship with Hew, since Abigail and Ben both know about that as well?). Or you could change the show events and have Anna (or Hewlett) find out even before Andre’s execution. That’s the fun of fanfic! ;)

And no worries! We do things fashionably late on this blog. :D Yeah, it was mainly another round through the gauntlet of dealing with difficult people who don’t communicate well and don’t seem to understand that other people have deadlines to stick to. Nothing unusual tbh, especially since the pandemic started and made communication harder; it’s just always frustrating dealing with those kinds of people.

Thanks for dropping in, anon! ❤︎

Mold Me New (4) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog and Taehyung have become very comfortable around each other, getting used to each other’s presence. Their bond grows even more once a ghost from the past comes back to haunt Taehyung. His natural response is growing even closer to Frog, relying on her completely for comfort and… a distraction.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angsty themes in the second part (an “ex girlfriend” comes back, Taehyung puts up a wall, just a little). Frog starts asking herself questions about sexual attraction. There are some innuendos here and there. Taehyung receives unwanted attentions that make him deeply uncomfortable. That should be all.

The parts that look good were edited by the miraculous @joheunsaram​ (I recced one of her pieces right here in my main blog 💜)

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. Here is Tae and Frog’s music companion (spotify playlist, the playlist in case you wanna create it on other platforms)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Taehyung had become a comfortable addition to your life. He was steady and reliable — from your bi-weekly lessons, to drinks with his friends on the weekend.

Terry had extraordinarily managed to stay friends with both Jimin and Hoseok, occasionally taunting them, but overall keeping things neutral and platonic.

However, the one who was struggling with friendly, platonic feelings was you. It was difficult not to notice the way Taehyung always managed to predict your objections, your movements and your needs.

You felt a connection that made you feel weak, queasy, like clay gently sprinkled with water.

His lessons had become a secret guide to people and relationships.

The first time he had actually placed you at the wheel, helping you throw your first small bowl, he had given you the epiphany of a lifetime.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.”

A revelation had struck you just then and there. That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed your ex husband in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out.

“Every shape has its specific requirements,” Taehyung had explained, dipping your hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from your fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched,” he had reminded you from the previous lesson. With a small nod he had invited you to press down the pedal lightly. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up,” he had smiled at the material underneath your hands.

“Gentle. Easy,” he had corrected you, his sinewy fingers gently leading your hands, recalibrating the pressure points. You had watched the greyish water stain his hands as he helped you. “That’s the secret to good things.”

In the following lesson he had taught you the importance of separation and remotion.

“It's been a few hours* what you have right there it's a leatherhard*. It's hard enough to withstand some pressure, but not ready to stand on its own,” Taehyung had shown you how to cut the bowl from the base, to turn it around and let it dry evenly.

“Still it wouldn't survive the kiln yet,” he explained. “You need all the water out. Water weakens the structure and your piece would crumble. And you would need to start anew,” Taehyung's delicate fingertips had lifted the piece, turning it around. “They're like children. One wrong move and, bam, you lose their trust and you need to earn it back, from ground zero. Yes, Frog. Just like that, easy with the pressure or you'll leave fingerprints,” he had scolded you, exhaling and closing his eyes once he noticed the damage had already been done.

You had looked at him with a sheepish grin, smiling apologetically.

What you didn't know is that he had scowled at the realisation that he simply could not keep a long face at you.

Taehyung had discovered an even weaker spot for you.

He had realised he liked you a lot.

You were quiet, observant, and incredibly intelligent.

And he liked chatting with you on your nights at the pub. And he liked your fashion sense.

He liked leaning his head against your shoulder, he was just extremely sorry he had to be half drunk to be brave enough — or to be somehow excused for the excess of clinginess.

He liked you, the cheerful and polite smile you wore while talking to Jimin and Terry indistinctly, like they had the same importance to you, no matter you had known Terry for ages and Jimin for a few weeks.

He liked the way you trapped the tip of your tongue between your lips while you focused on a piece, or the fact that once he had stopped by the bookshop, only to spot you curled up on an armchair with a fuzzy blanket on your shoulders while you read a book.

He had studied the sleepy smile you had offered him as he handed you a cup of tea that had just been brewed in Seokjin’s café. Taehyung had felt young and foolish as his smile mirrored yours. He’d wandered around the few shelves in your shop, studying a few books and asking questions about the organisation of genres on the shelves.

He asked for recommendations and chuckled as he noticed you growing increasingly chatty, disrupting your streak of quiet to passionately discuss authors and plots and publishing houses, little naive art books and detective novels and half unknown poets from entirely unknown countries.

It had been an amazing morning, with a lazy yellowy light floating in from the large windows.

After that, his visits to the bookshop had become more frequent, even stopping by during a reading date — which of course was not the two of you having a date, but rather other people coming in, mostly couples from university, to explore the shelves together, have that niche romantic academia experience, which sometimes meant that professors also came in with their husbands or wives. The loveliest of them all was the Ancient Greek professor, a seventy year old man who always came in with his wife, opening the door for her and walking around with her hand in his, usually stopping in front of the Russian section to see if they could find anything they liked. Taehyung had helped you create some artsy reading nooks that your customers truly appreciated.

The last month or so had been a blessing, for the both of you.

You both liked the steady, warm presence you could offer each other: he liked having you around because he felt less lonely, and because it was so easy to focus on you rather than the discomfort of loss; you enjoyed his respectful guidance, like a toddler still stumbling on their feet finds comfort in the parent walking right behind them; you felt free to move autonomously, but you also felt him there, never looking away in chase you needed a hand to hold. You had found a companion.

And with that many things started getting out of your control.

One in particular.

It was Tuesday afternoon and as usual the bookshop was closed. You parked your bike in Taehyung’s driveway, grabbing your tote and blushing a little as you fixed a classy, old school ribbon in your hair, covering the hair tie of your ponytail. You felt fickle and juvenile.

You felt romantic.

You felt ready to be pampered with tender guidance and soft touches, still strictly limited to your hands, always after mannered glances asking for your permission. With eager joy, you opened the door to the studio, only to notice an extra wheel beside the usual one.

And one extra person.

A woman.

Currently running her hand down Taehyung’s arm, toying with his fingers.

You blinked a couple times before you rebuilt your happy facade. “Oh, hi! Hello there!” you greeted with a smile.

Taehyung immediately took half a step away from the woman.

“Hello Frog, how are you today?”

“Happy,” you chirped in a way that had Taehyung warning immediately. He knew that kind of gleeful tone was dedicated to other circumstances — books, your friends, squealing when you managed to make a good piece. He frowned also because you weren’t one of those easily excited people.

What could have possibly made you want to show off so much happiness all at once?

“I’m glad,” he commented before noticing the extra wheel and suddenly remembering the guest.

“This is Dolly. Dolly is a fellow artist. She’s from a small town nearby. She is designing customised tableware for a resort cottage nearby. She’ll work with us today.”

You nodded, grabbing your apron — the only apron, you noticed — and got ready for the task of the day.

“Would you like to try making a plate for today?” he asked, taking out some premixed clay and preparing it on the table for you to wedge. “Or we could do some glazing while Dolly does her thing.”

“No, I could use two teachers,” you replied, trying to be inclusive, shushing all the unmotivated jealousy. How unreasonable!

“She won’t let you get away with things just because of your cute smile,” Taehyung warned, the stern reprimand sugared by the half hidden compliment.

“I almost don’t make mistakes anymore!” you complained before walking to the table, rolling up your sleeves and beginning to pat the corners of your piece of clay.

“Do you need me to do that?” he asked, feeling twice as apprehensive as usual.

“You could wedge some for me, Tae?” Dolly called, preparing a large disk and bringing it over to the table. “Please?” she cooed.

Taehyung agreed, feeling more comfortable at your side, both your foreheads growing sweaty with the warm spring weather and your arms getting sore as you worked the clay until it reached ideal plasticity.

“How was yesterday? I didn’t manage to bring you breakfast,” he mentioned almost casually as he started giving the final twists to the clay body.

“Oh, it was okay. Slow Monday. A couple teachers brought in some stuff to print. One of my parents’ friends asked me to grammar check her dissertation. I had a few books brought in for safety rebounding. Same old,” you said, sitting at the wheel and throwing the clay down. “How should I go about the plate?” you asked, looking up at Taehyung.

He was suddenly enchanted by your beauty as you looked up, a few rebellious locks escaping your hairband and making you look so unreal, so breathtaking and young.

Sometimes he forgot you were young.

Sometimes he even forgot he was young himself.

He was living the kind of fondness his grandma had always told him about, the kind of fondness she had met once sixty, ready to conclude her earthly struggles by herself. Instead, she had met an honest man, a widower who understood her past and her present.

The two had shared a quiet, tender feeling until she left. They were friends, they talked about the weather and gardening, went on walks, had picnics and went to church together. He always held her hand and kissed her forehead with a reverence Taehyung had never met.

Except for you.

He knew the only love he would never doubt was the one that accompanied his granny through her last days. He knew she passed a happy woman and that relieved him immensely.

Being the son of a single mother meant many complicated things, which included his mom moving half a continent away when he turned fourteen, chasing a man he barely knew.

He was glad he had his grandmother then, and the guys. Jimin and his family, although very complicated.

Taehyung didn’t understand the inner dynamics of relationships, and his lack of experience during high school had definitely not helped.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried, but he didn’t feel comfortable. He was always trying to learn while all the girls he had dated expected some sort of latin lover for unknown reasons — probably because of a rumour started by Jimin and Jeongguk, which had clearly, miserably failed.

All he could do was show kind devotion and gain continuous inspiration by the women in his life.

Pottery itself was an art he had learnt from his mother, who in turn had learnt from her mother. He had liked it from day one, like he had been called to it, made for it, even.

“Taetae please, could you help? I think I’m stuck,” Dolly whined, stopping to look at her attempt of dish. “What do you think?”

You tried to ignore the way her voice hurt your ears, leaving some clay aside to handbuild fruit for decoration to add later. Once done, you remodeled the amount for the plate in a round ball against your apron before throwing it a bit too aggressively on the wheel before starting to center.

“See, I’m not sure about the lip. Should i give it a wider edge or make it a bit… I don’t know. I kind of wanted it flat, with a slightly raised lip,” she pouted through her words, but you kept your focus, centering the piece flawlessly, repeating the procedure a few times, feeling the movements terribly familiar and comforting.

“It’s a good idea,” Taehyung confirmed, “a bit of a modern twist.”

“Aw, you’re so nice!” Dolly cooed, batting her lashes at him just as he turned to look at you.

“You’re still centering? All good?” he asked, noticing you stuck on holding the half dome under your palms, ready to bring it up again.

He let you go through the motion, finding himself the excuse of checking your technique only to stare at your strong but precise hands.

You went on without answering, letting the clay grow against your palms before feeling it peak and changing your grip, pushing your thumbs across and down.

“Good job, Frog,” he praised you, watching your face light up in a shy smile while you kept working the ball onto a large, thick disk.

“It’s a lot more than usual,” you commented with a sheepish grin.

“You’re doing perfect,” he reassured you. “Keep it even. Remember the ashtray-turned-jewellery plate?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Use the side of your hand. Press down harder,” he directed you. “Use your whole body, Frog. You’re handling a lot there, you need to be a bit more aggressive.”

He bit his lip before testing the waters. “Make it wetter, Frog.”

You felt yourself freeze for a second. You swallowed and dipped your dominant hand in the water.

“Don’t make it drip,” he corrected you.

“I’m gonna drench it,” you replied.

“Taetae—”

“Just a second, Dolly,” he replied absentmindedly. “Drench it, Frog.”

You obeyed.

“Gonna touch your back,” he warned you before you felt his forearms on your shoulders, pressing you down. “Use your whole weight. You need to make it to three inches. The thinner the easier.”

You felt his voice close to your ear.

“When it starts to drag, it’s too dry. Hug the side,” he rose and placed his palm against yours. “Just hold it. No pressure. Lovingly.”

“Tae—” Dolly called again.

He closed his eyes. “Just keep pressing,” he told you. “Tell me.”

“Can you help me with the lip?” Dolly asked, batting her lashes.

“First, make the base wider. Flatten it nicely, till the edge, then pinch the wall up. It will fall a little as it dries, but maybe we can find a way to secure it. If you make it short enough it should hold,” he explained professionally.

“Could you show me, please?”

He nodded. “Wait, Frog, stop there. Watch,” he commanded curtly.

You slowed down the wheel before stopping, holding your hands for a second before making sure that your piece didn’t get out of control.

“Okay,” you told him once you were ready.

“Come up here, I need you to see the details.”

You reached the two other people, Taehyung taking Dolly’s spot at the wheel. He fixed his stance before he wet his hands. Instinctively, his left palm went to hold the side while his right fingers grabbed a needle, measuring the thickness of the plate. “Just around two inches. And here it goes thicker, you see? Around three inches,” he showed, sticking the needle in.

“Did I do wrong?” Dolly asked, awfully dramatic.

“You just need to make it thinner,” he commented, already dipping a small sponge in the plate before squeezing it in the plate, still being very careful.

“Now, Dolly first used her fist — the side of it — and pulled it toward her to spread the clay lower. Repeat that several times. At least six or seven, based on the pressure you manage to apply. Then she used her fingertips, center out. Like this,” he said, showing the motion.

You felt ready to throw yourself out across the glass wall head first.

His middle finger pressed down with such firmness that you couldn’t not think of it doing very inappropriate things to your body.

You felt dumbstruck at the sudden thought, like it was some sort of exceedingly vivid dream, too realistic to actually be a dream.

“Rib next. Dolly didn’t use the rib properly here. She was too light.” He corrected the woman’s mistake, using his chest to press down, exhaling loudly as he did. “You have to go deep, Frog. Stay there. Be a bit stubborn.” He grinned. “Hold position.”

You nodded, licking your lips.

Dolly’s eyes were glowing with arousal next to you, his brow arching once he put down the rib after five minutes or so. “Wet fingers,” he reminded you, wiggling as gimey, grey water rolled down his wrists, the vision unfairly erotic for the dirt covering his hands, dripping down the hypervascular back of them, the veins of his forearms significantly thicker.

You shook your head with a grin as he wiggled his digits. “You put one inside, on the outside and press them together. Make sure you dig deep with the one on the inner side. You’ll want to press down firmly to collect all the material you’ll need for the lip. In this case, we keep pushing out, to further widen the plate and give it a short, erect lip.”

You were out of your mind, nodding just in hope to get away from torture.

“Oh, so that’s how I need to do the lip! Thank you Taetae!” Dolly exclaimed, giving you a way out.

You caught the chance immediately, sitting back at the wheel, drenching your hands before reapplying water to your piece.

“Wetter,” Taehyung called immediately.

Oh.

Your brain froze as you realised that wetter you were, indeed.

“Make a fist,” he ordered as he poured more water on your piece. “Press the side of your pinkie knuckle in the middle.”

You looked at him, crouched beside you, his mop of black hair tumbling back as his dark eyes met yours.

They hid so much longing, so much need for comfort. You read them immediately, nodding.

He placed his hand on top of yours. “Push down, Frog,” he murmured, in a way he hoped only the two of you would hear over the sound of the wheels’ engines. “Harder, lovely.”

You held your breath, his fingers and palm swallowing your fist entirely as he slipped his thumb into the hole created by your index and thumb. “Pull it towards you now,” he spoke softly. “Hard and slow, Frog,” he reminded you.

Your brain was far, far away, filled with questions about how you now found yourself comfortable about seeing Taehyung as a potential partner.

Duh. Because he knows you, dummy, the reply came instantly

Because he seemed to do everything just right for you, and when he ended up making a mistake, he seemed to know exactly how to ask for forgiveness and actually learn from his previous wrongdoings.

“Do I keep going?” you questioned, looking at him.

His face lit up slightly. “Yes, darling.” He let you go slightly after, cleaning up his hand.

You missed his guidance, but you convinced yourself you could do without.

“Slow down. Test the thickness,” he reminded you, offering the needle. “You did perfect, Frog,” he murmured with a fond grin.

“Really?” you reacted incredulously.

He confirmed, nodding as he stuck the needle along the side. “We need to work with your fingertips along the sides, here,” he showed, closing down the small puncture.

You wet your digits and placed your middle and ring finger on the center, slightly angled, letting them slide all the way to the edge as the wheel turned.

He assisted your outer hand, supporting it and showing how much pressure was needed.

“Keep going like this for a couple minutes. Make sure that it slims out. Just a few minutes—”

“Tae, do you think this is right?” Dolly asked with her squeaky voice.

His left hand grazed yours reverently as he parted from you.

Taehyung cruelly realised he was head over heels for you.

“It looks just fine to me, Dolly. I think you could give it a last test and then let it dry.”

“Yes, maybe you could give me some hands-on guidance with the next one. I could learn from a… master like you.”

You almost scoffed, giving a choked snort before you could actually control yourself.

“Uhm… I’m sure you just need to refine your timing.” Taehyung tried to evade the request.

During the rest of your lesson, you managed to throw two plates, even building a few decorations that would be added once the clay was leatherhard, in about twenty-four hours.

“I’ll add the decorations tomorrow,” Taehyung told you as you washed your hands. “Unless you want to stop by during lunch break.”

You dried your hands, thinking about his suggestion. “I think I’ll be busy tomorrow. You know, the Spring fair is soon and there’s some stuff I need to do.”

He pouted and nodded. “I’ll trim and decorate then,” he agreed. “If we’re having our Friday lesson, we can bisque them.”

You smiled and agreed.

“Maybe I can throw some plates for you and show you how to decorate while the kiln is working,” he reasoned, helping you to remove the apron once he noticed you were stuck in it.

“That would be lovely, if it’s not too much work for you!” you replied happily. You deposited the apron and caught your bag, fixing it on your shoulder. “It was a pleasure, Dolly!”

“Likewise!” she replied with a smile so sour it would have made milk curdle. “I’ll see you again!”

“Yes, for sure!” you cheered back, making your way out.

Taehyung accompanied you, almost as if you didn’t know the way. “I have a book to return,” he said, making you frown. He didn’t borrow any book from you.

“Uhm,” you started, trying to understand his intentions.

“Come in, I have it in the kitchen,” he said, leading you through the backyard.

“Taehyung,” you called, once you reached the door to his house, keeping your voice low. “Are you okay?”

He opened the door and led you through. His house was incredibly traditional compared to the way you had expected it to be.

“I’m… I just needed to check in on you. Dolly can be a very… loud… presence,” he said, grabbing a glass and a pastel pink porcelain pitcher. “Lemonade?”

You shook your head. “She is indeed very… loud.”

“I’m sorry,” he sat down and drank. He looked sad. Worried. “Are we okay, Frog?”

You stood at his side, looking at him before delicately placing your hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay, but are you? You look terrified of being in there with her.”

He placed both elbows on the table and held his head. “I’m just very tired today.”

Your hand moved to his nape, feeling the corded muscles. “Tell her you’re tired and that you’re calling it a day. I can make up an excuse for you.”

You were reminded just how much he had clung to you for the whole lesson. If she was giving him special attention, he clearly didn’t want it.

“Would you do that?” he asked, suddenly hopeful.

You frowned. “Of course?” you reacted, playfully disappointed in his lack of faith. “We can stay here. I can read, you can nap or watch the tv. We just need to make her understand it’s time to go. I’ll hide my bike and wait for you here. You’ll go in there and tell her Jimin or someone called and they need your help.”

“Are you sure you want to spend the afternoon like this? I mean, it’s your free day.”

You shrugged. Your plans were going home, getting rid of the awful tension running down your back and possibly going to the shop for some cleaning, maybe work on that dissertation… “You’re my friend. And yes, I want to help you.”

Taehyung knew that some people would have been highly disappointed by being called ‘friend’ by their crush, but that made him feel warm, like he was wrapped in a cosy comforter. “Go hide the bike,” he said, grinning like a child.

You grinned right back at him, starting down the corridor with long strides. He helped you choose a nice spot, hiding your bike between the house and the bushes tracing the outline of the garden.

After fifteen minutes or so, you heard Dolly’s annoying voice as she said something like “call me if you need help with Jiminie”, dramatically bidding Taehyung goodbye.

From the window, you watched her get inside a car in front of the house, Taehyung appearing a few minutes after. “We. Are. Free,” he panted theatrically as he flopped on the sofa, throwing his head back.

“Why did you let her come?” you asked, staring at him from your spot by the window.

“Because she’s an old friend. I met her way before she became like that,” he admitted. “I hadn’t seen her in ages. And now she’s clearly trying to get back in my life, using the commission as an excuse.” Taehyung rubbed his temples.

For half a second you wondered whether it was a good idea to ask. Would it make any difference? You realised it would. “Were you… In a relationship?”

“If for ‘relationship’ you mean ‘let’s fuck him so I can complete the friends collection’, then yes.” Taehyung propped his forearms on his knees, exhaling heavily.

You hissed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to do. “If you’d like to rest, I can go home,” you said, looking at him with cold, uncertain eyes.

He met your stare, suddenly feeling confused, scared even. He frowned and crossed his arms, trying to put some distance after he noticed his refuge turn hostile to him. “You can go,” he said, shrinking within his shoulders, trying not to show how much he feared being alone.

What he didn’t know is that you could feel the hurt in his voice and the pain in his eyes like needles sinking in your skin. You walked to him, touching his hair hesitantly, feeling wary about not receiving spoken permission.

You watched him bloom under your touch, his lungs inflating with a large inhale. He exhaled way more slowly, taking his time. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, letting your hand slide down the side of his face.

He shook his head, placing his hand atop of yours, holding it there just in case you foolishly thought he didn’t need your touch anymore. “Can you stay?”

You placed both your hands on his hair, cupping his face. “I’ll read, you take a nap.”

He watched you move your free hand away, putting down your tote and grabbing a book. He grabbed your wrist, staring at you with his dark puppy eyes. “Can you sit here? Close?”

You smiled and nodded, settling at his side before he grabbed a blanket, spread it wide and laid down, nuzzling closer, inch by inch, until you found his head on your lap.

“Can I?” he asked, adorably, his cheeks puffy and his eyes glittering vivaciously.

You smiled back at him and nodded. Fondly, you moved your book aside, watching him close his eyes contentedly as your thigh became his pillow.

After a couple pages, you almost thought he had fallen asleep already, only to realise you were mistaken once he reached for your free hand and brought it to his hair.

“Cuddle?”

You smiled even brighter, tracing the shell of his ear before starting to hand-comb his soft, dark locks.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered gently, barely holding back as you looked at his face, peacefully relaxed.

Your heart was a messy thing, but in that moment you realised that, could you have a new one, you would gift it to him and never ask for it back.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

1 Day of Glee Blogs: kurthummeldeservesbetter

Every time @kurthummeldeservesbetter hosts a Glee Blog Awards (and I say every time because it has happened more than once now), I want to nominate her, but she won’t let me.

Enough is enough.

Alex, you deserve an award. For all the work you’ve put in to making our little corner of the internet a better, more fun, more positive place to be. You do so much for our fandom and it just feels wrong for all of that hard work to go unrecognized, especially when you do so much to recognize the hard work other people put in.

So, we’ve decided to not let it go unrecognized.

I took a page from your book and figured that the best way to do this would be to ask other people to say things so that I have to say less things. So I reached out to everyone who received a nomination for the 25 Days of Glee Blogs, told them my idea, and asked them if they had anything they’d like to say to you. Several people told me they were thinking about doing this exact same thing, so I guess I’m just lucky that I got around to sending out the messages first. And, of course, lots of people had some lovely things to say (and show!) you! So, without further ado, let’s get on with it.

@coffeeorderwrites: “The glee blog awards were such a sweet and wonderful idea and I was personally so grateful to be able to put some positivity out into the world through doing these nominations. It's also clear a huge amount of effort went into the posts from the individual banners to the personalized recommendations. Thank you so much for doing this! Also I just want to add I thoroughly enjoy your head cannons and very much enjoy having you on my dash 😊”

@20xbetterthanu: “Hi Alex! You’re fucking amazing for doing this for everyone—you’re amazing in general, your head cannons are on point and your love for Kurt hummel is superior and I just wanted to say thank you! Ily—Ally”

@katimanki: “I want to nominate the oh so wonderful @kurthummeldeservesbetter for every blog award there is and has been. Because of all her weirdly specific headcanons that are (too often lol) 100% accurate. And the stupidest shit posts that are absolute gold (the glee-books, Should-I-drink-all-this-coffee-??-!) I admire her motivation and ability to produce daily quality content.💕 All the effort she puts into everything she puts out is simply astounding. She literally did two blog awards this fall, all by herself, completely unprompted and selflessly. She did all that for other people in the fandom and never asked for anything back. I can't be anything but grateful and amazed (and a little jealous of her commitment abilities haha)!! And look at her go again! Just over a week since 25 days of blogs and she already has a new event ready to go! 💖”

@lallagoglee:

@esperantoauthor: 

@spaceorphan18: “I'm glad that they're supporting blogs in a positive way, and not limiting who they're showcasing. I think it's great that fandom can be inclusive and welcoming, and I hope others follower her trend of supporting others within the fandom. :)”

@crissmastrees-and-candyklaines: “I think Alex is such a great person to be constantly putting on things like this. It take a truly wonderful soul to constantly spread gratitude and appreciation for others! Thank you Alex for being so awesome 💞”

@crayonstoperfume: “i love that she brings so much positivity to the fandom! every time i see her on my dash she’s lifting up her friends, celebrating content creators, or just coming up with something amazingly creative and funny!!”

@personalgarbagepile: “Dear Alex, I would like to thank you for all the stuff you have done and all the things you are planning in the future. I’m not sure what the new project is exactly but I will be participating whenever it starts. I love all the writing content you provide as well as all the posts you make in appreciation for the fans. They’re really sweet. Finally, I hope that one day you achieve your dream of moving up north, both because it’s great up here and because living in Florida is utterly unrelatable.”

@kuiinncedes: “amazing blog overall - iconic url, lovely, funny person, her blog awards spread so much positivity and love and it’s so sweet for her to organize them! and her headcanons are so awesome, i always love reading them so much!!! a greatly appreciated part of this fandom :))”

@gleeincorrectquotes: “I don’t know her very well, but she seems really nice, her headcannons are always so spot on and hilarious, and her idea for the glee awards was so sweet :)“

@snarkyhag: “Big thanks to kurthummeldeservesbetter for running the 25 Days of Glee blogs. It's cool to find new people to follow and to see my friends celebrated for the awesome they are. Not sure how his pun machine made it into the group but I am honored.”

@heartsmadeofbooks:  "I've never actually talked to Alex, but that doesn't mean I don't know what a sweet person she is. She takes the time to make Awards and the 25 days of Blogs to brighten everyone else's day despite really not having to go to all that trouble. Her headcanons are amazing and the reason I started to follow her in the first place, and I look forward to more of them in the future. If this were another edition of her awards, she would win "Kindest and Most Generous Person in the Fandom" award :) Sending you much love and gratitude, Alex! ♥"

@black-john-lennon: “I’d like to say Thank you for keeping the fandom alive and spreading positivity.“

@soonbuilt: 

@proudly-so: “Just wanted to say thank you for everything you do for the Glee fandom. It is nice to see someone taking so much time to put together well thought out activities for others to enjoy, especially during such a tough year. Thank you for all that you do!!”

@justgleekout: “She is such an incredible addition to the fandom! With her awards she really creates such a nice community feeling. The way she always thinks of others is absolutely wonderful. Her hcs always make me giggle and she is just a pleasure to see on your dash really!!“

@hippohead: “The amount of time and effort that Alex has put into the 25 Days of Blogs is incredible and so selfless - it wasn't to get anything out of it, it was to create a space for the klaine community to celebrate each other and the things we make and share. I think that's wonderful. A big thank you to Alex for their organizational skills, for doing the event and spreading so much love and support! I hope they know how much we appreciate it and them 💞”

@byebyeblainey: "Alex!!!! Thank you so much for not only hosting the 25 days of glee blogs event, but for also being such a wonderful, kind, lovely person!! we haven't talked much but honestly ur vibes are IMPECCABLE and i'm so glad that u joined glee tumblr!! u light up my dashboard and i'm so happy to call u my mutual! <3"

And finally, I couldn’t end this post without a chart, so I’ve done some thorough research and put togehter the following incredibly precise and accurate graph.

You can see by that red trendline that things are only going up from here! And I wasn’t kidding about the research by the way.

Sources: [1], [2], [3a], [3b], [3c], [4], [5], [6], [7], [8], [9], [10], [11], [12]

Anyway, Alex, I hope you know how much we all love and appreciate you! You bring so much to the fandom, and we’re all so grateful for the time and effort you put in. Thank you so much for bringing some brightness and positivity to our dashes, and I hope that we’ve been able to bring some more joy (or perhaps even some glee) to yours.

Midnight Coffee [Character Profiles]

Non-Idol AU / Coffee Shop AU

TW: None

Pairing: Platonic!NCT 127 x Reader

Genre: Slice of Life, Angst in Some Parts, Comedy in Some Parts

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: You run a coffee shop that only opens past midnight and closes just before the sun rises, and the people you meet are never more interesting than the stories they bring with them.

Notes: Trying out a new layout for character profiles! I hope you guys all like it! I know I probably shouldn’t be putting out any other series but honestly I got the sudden inspiration for this one and I just had to draft it before I lost it! Not sure when this is coming out, if ever, but I hope you all enjoy these character profiles at the very least! With that in mind, I intend for each chapter to be rather hashed out, I’m thinking around 10-15K minimum, which I admit is ambitious, but hey! It sounds fun so why not (also hence why they’ll take a while to write). That and I figured I’d try out the new character profiles somehow haha, I meant to switch Locked and Reloaded’s profiles to be like this too but I forgot haha, either way I hope you like these!

Inspired by the Indie Game ‘Coffee Talk’

[Main Masterlist] | [Midnight Coffee Masterlist]

Lee Taeyong

Usual Order: Chocobee Miruku (Chocolate, Honey, and Milk)

Usual Time of Arrival: 1 am to 2 am, Mondays and Tuesdays

Profession: Video Game Producer - NCT U Productions

Description: A freelance video game producer doing his best to make a living in a world dominated by mainstream game makers. He focuses on the artistry of telling stories without words and emphasizes compelling artwork over contemporary graphics. He holds an undefined relationship with Kim Doyoung, but one that is apparently very close.

Moon Taeil

Usual Order: Milky Way (Milk, Honey, Mint)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight, Wednesdays

Profession: Indie Singer - YouTube

Description: Often seen singing a set in front of the Midnight Coffee café during the day time, he is what one would consider “YouTube Famous;” however, remarkably, he is as rich as a university graduate- meaning he has about $20 to his name. Regardless, the young singer has found a unique joy in life to follow what his heart desires.

Suh Johnny

Usual Order: Espresso (Coffee, Coffee, Coffee)

Usual Time of Arrival: 2 am to 4 am, Regular

Profession: Model - 127 Modeling Agency

Description: Although he is typically seen with his friend Yuta, it comes as no surprise when Johnny is seen alone, either in the café or in magazines. The A-List model is one people would pay anything just to catch a glimpse of, it’s a miracle that café hasn’t been run down yet. But despite his persistent insisting, you can’t bring yourself to allow him to promote your small shop, even though he has been a long time regular. 

Nakamoto Yuta

Usual Order: Black Magic (Coffee, Mint, Honey)

Usual Time of Arrival: 2 am to 4 am, Regular

Profession: Instagram/Twitter Influencer

Description: Long time friend of Johnny, Yuta can trace his influencer roots to when he met the then beginner model. It was thanks to this newbie model that he found Midnight Coffee, the small café he often posts about, but has kept the name out of his captions at your insistence. He has developed a sort of love for the café itself and is often found there with or without Johnny.

Kim Doyoung

Usual Order: Ginger Mint Tea (Tea, Ginger, Mint)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 2 am, Mondays and Fridays

Profession: Photographer - 127 Modeling Agency; but is also available upon commission.

Description: Behind every picture is its photographer and Doyoung, often working under the Monogram ‘Daniel’ when not working, is one of the best out there. He exhibits a very special talent when taking his photos, being able to draw out the most intricate of emotions from his subjects by doing something as simple as changing his angle or dimming the lights, but none compares to his usual subject Lee Taeyong.

Jung Jaehyun

Usual Order: Honey Coffee (Coffee, Coffee, Honey)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 3 am, Weekends

Profession: Travel Vlogger - YouTube

Description: Though this vlogger is rarely in one place for more than a month, he always finds a way to make time for a certain café that he has come to appreciate. The night-owl edits best past midnight and with a cup of coffee, and only one place meets that requirement. He can visit without saying a word, and on others days he can go on and on about his latest vlog, it really depends on his mood that night.

Dong Sicheng

Usual Order: Black Lemon (Coffee, Coffee, Lemon)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 2 am, Thursdays and Fridays

Profession: Actor - Label V

Description: Although he doesn’t have as much time as he used to before his blockbuster movie, the ex-regular still finds time to drink some coffee in his favorite café, and often finds that he can find at least a few minute’s peace despite his fast-paced life in his favorite corner of the quiet café.

Kim Jungwoo

Usual Order: Midsummer Night’s Dream (Tea, Lemon, Honey)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 4 am, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays

Profession: Engineering Student - SM University

Description: This sleep deprived college student has a special place in the Midnight Coffee café, the only thing stopping him from being a regular is the 8 am MWF classes, which he takes Tuesday and Thursday to catch up on what little sleep he has, but he is always a welcome and bright addition to the usual slow tempo of the café.

Lee Mark

Usual Order: Tea Latte (Tea, Milk, Milk)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 2 am, Regular

Profession: Novelist and Student - SMU

Description: This Uni student works part time at the short story company The Neo City Whispers and has found his best inspiration at the Midnight Coffee Café, and he is about to take on his most ambitious proposal yet, a novel, one that will make or break his future, but luckily he has a very supportive barista to encourage him along the way.

Lee Haechan

Usual Order: Ginger Latte (Coffee, Ginger, Milk)

Usual Time of Arrival: Midnight to 2 am, Tuesdays and Wednesdays

Profession: Uni Student, Undeclared - SMU

Description: Although he hasn’t exactly found his path in life yet, do not mistake him for a slacker. He is always looking for a new opportunity and is always willing to try something new, in hopes that one day it will stick to him and he’ll finally find a purpose. But one must wonder why, perhaps one late night in the Midnight Coffee Café will be enough of a push for him, or maybe not.

(L/N) (Y/N)

Usual Order: Whatever they’re feeling

Usual Time of Arrival: 11:45, right before the café opens

Profession: Owner and Barista of the Midnight Coffee café

Description: This mysterious owner somehow makes a living off of a small café that is only open from midnight to sunrise, not much is known about what they do afterward though, all that matters is that they have quite the following of customers who have grown to love the charming, but strange, café.

Midnight Coffee Taglist: DM, Ask, Reply, or Reblog below if you’re interested in getting notified once I get around to this series (which I admit may be a while)!

*cracks knuckles* Clearly I’m going straight for the Blackout. 

ENJOY, FRIENDS. FOR YOU, I THROW IT UNDER THE CUT

Under 1000 Words

take my burdens (and bury them deep) by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M Nothing makes me happier than a fic of my favorite BroTP, especially when Obi is offering to disappear Kiki’s dirty dealings. Content warning for attempted sexual assault and Obi doing what he does best: getting rid of the body.

A Fic That Got You Involved In Fandom

Seven Suitors for Shirayuki by @sabraeal​ Rated T Look. You all are just going to have to accept that there is a certain generation of this fandom that was dragged in, kicking and screaming, by this fic. I wanted to diversify by saying something else managed it, but no. It was the fact that this story was stuck on chapter five for MONTHS that made me vibrate until my own fic fell out. XD

Made You Laugh Out Loud

An Extra Rise Before Dawn by @sabraeal​ Rated G I don’t often worry that I am going to pee from laughing so hard when I’m reading something, but this one definitely does. In one spot in particular. You might be able to guess it. It is simultaneously an incredible sweet and incredibly funny fic that hits all the right notes for me.

Favorite Trope Reversal

Fussing with Firedrakes by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T 1) Dragons. 2) Damsel in distress is no damsel and she is NOT in distress thank you very much 3) Kiki is a DRAGON 4) Obi is cursed, and 5) DID I MENTION D R A G O N S ???

Fic That Made You Friends With the Author

The Wide Florida Bay by @sabraeal​ Rated E I had to think about this because while I read Seven Suitors first, this was the series that made me start sending anons and eventually made me join tumblr where I proceeded to endlessly play the ‘what if’ game with Jen. CLEARLY this is where our friendship was forged.

Action-Packed Fight Scene

Agent, Parts I, II, and III by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated T Like Jen, I was positively torn, because both Andi and Sarah do fight scenes SO WELL, but Agent ultimately won out because there is just something so delightful about Shirayuki flailing and clinging to Obi like a cat that doesn’t want to go in the bath while arrows zip all around them

Edit: Screw it, I’m reccing them both

Republic of Tanbarun by @claudeng80​ Rated T An action adventure series where romance is involved but is by no means the focus. Zen and Obi adventures abound. Politics galore. And some masterfully done slow-motion to quick motion fight scenes that I L O V E D

Gen Fic

Fugue in Three by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G Ryuu casually destroys Obi and Shirayuki by breathing as they count down the days until he comes of age. Technically this fic has a romantic pairing, but it is by no means the focus of this fic. If you don’t agree, you are welcome to meet me under the Big Oak between the hours of 12 and 4 for a duel.

Missing Scene

Like Brothers Do by @claudeng80​ Rated G Obi is clearly Kiki’s annoying big brother and handles Mitsuhide’s rejection in the best way he knows how. Also read: Mitsuhide gets what’s coming to him. (ง'̀-'́)ง

Canon Divergent

We work at the mall by @kaedix​ Rated T With how many AUs we got floating around this fandom, I was hard pressed to choose a favorite. But there is just something so sweet and wholesome and American teenager about this. It just latches onto you and never lets go. (Also the gang all work at my favorite places in the mall when I was growing up. What’s not to love?)

Steamiest Kiss

Were Hearts Not An Unknown Country by @sabraeal​ Rated T LOOK. SOMEONE was going to have to go dig this out of the rubble of her compilation fics and it might as well be me. Also the birthplace of the much loved AnS fandom practice of solstice kissing.

Contains Your Favorite Headcanon

The road to Clarines is Gravel by @codango​ Rated E Not the focus of the fic as a whole, but like, Torou and Obi are siblings. GALAXY MIND EXPLOSION. I mean, I loved that so much that I wrote a pre-canon fic of this fic. Additional note totally not related to the bingo square: I will ALWAYS be here for positive sex worker representation in fics. Fair warning, though, this is the most unfair AU in existence because the brain screams that it SHOULDN’T WORK and yet by some sort of writerly sorcery, it DOES. PLEASE READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY.

Wept Real Tears

let it make you by @thelionshymnal​ Rated M It’s not every day that someone manages to write a fic that makes me stare numbly at the very first line for a solid 15 minutes, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks, but Hymn did it. And then she somehow managed to kiss it better. All in 1100 words.

Free Space

AnS Role Swap AU by @owlsshadows​ Rated M This series has it all. Shirayuki as an assassin. Obi as both a royal bastard and a pharmacist. A mysterious meeting out in the woods where it makes you question whether Nanaki and Obi are two different people or the same. Also Zen having some very conflicted feelings regarding his royal authority and how he can choose to handle rejection.

Edit: Since I’ve already doubled up once, let me double up again, I have so much love to give and not enough space to give it!

Blizzard by @nebluus​ Rated T This is one of the earliest fics I read in this fandom and it remains to date one of my absolute favorites. Obi gets hurt protecting his Miss and a blizzard rolls in. Thankfully they find a cabin where Obi, who is definitely on his death bed if no one finds them and SOON, proceeds to still fuss over his Miss. Best scene: When he warms her hands with his. Also the second chapter is all sorts of delightful domesticity I IMPLORE you to please read it and soon.

Favorite Fan-Made OC

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine by @sabraeal​ Rated M All y’all should’ve seen these coming from ten miles out. I fucking LOVE Herr Anda, the cantankerous little bastard. And Jen knows this because she designed him specifically with me in mind. Academic catnap >:|

AU That Made You Find the Source Material

All Knotted Up by @sabraeal​ Rated G Admittedly, there are a great many AUs out there that made me look up the source material, but this Tangled AU is the most recent because I finally got on Disney+. And yes, Mitsuhide is the horse. Ryuu may be Pascal a little bit, but Mitsuhide. He’s The Horse. XD

First AnS Fic You Read

Loyalty by Evelyn Fiedler Rated K+ (which is basically G on AO3) My one and only ff.net rec from my earliest days in the fandom when I was combing for absolutely any content I could find, begging the fandom to help me decide if I was down for Obiyuki and all that it implied and this author most assuredly delivered.

Favorite Minor Character

Undertow by @jhalya​ Rated E The fic itself is a space odyssey of sorts. One mission among many where humanity attempts to colonize Mars. However the real selling point here, if you didn’t know, is Lord Seiran. He is a delightfully eccentric billionaire who clearly always wanted a large family, judging from how easily he fills out the adoption paperwork.

WIP

Caulk dirty to me by @leewritingrecs​ Rated E Have I mentioned I love the sex worker trope? I. Love. The. Sex. Worker. Trope. Also Obi is clearly divine at all of his jobs. Shirayuki already got to experience his skills at one of them. I wait with BAITED BREATH for her to experience the other :3

Canon Compliant

Thicker than Blood by @infinitelystrangemachinex​ Rated G In the aftermath of the death of King Kain, Izana and Zen must decide on which path they will take moving forward. Amazing fic. Unfinished, but a wonderful look into the dynamics between the Wisteria brothers and their absent mother.

One-Shot

Worth his Weight in Rice by @claudeng80​ Rated T AU set in an Edo-adjacent Period where a disease has wiped killed off a significant portion of the male population. Resulting societal shifts occur. If you go into the comments, I have a couple of pages worth of reasons why I love this AU, but what I appreciate even more is how you have an absolutely perfect oneshot in this fic. It is a well-translated universe where we get a delightful clear, beginning, middle, and end, all in 5k. NOT an easy feat. Please enjoy.

Rare Pair

the fog pushing through my mind by @thelionshymnal​ Rated E Obi/Yuzuri, friends with benefits. Two pining idiots with some sore feelings decide to get stoned and take comfort in another warm body for the night. I just really enjoyed the casual intimacy of the encounter and how this is clearly neither of their first experiences with a one night stand. Neither of them are going to make it weird in the morning, they just need to take the edge off, ya know? Additional bonus for Obi being ready to stab the dumbasses who made Yuzuri feel like she was a weirdo in her past.

AU You Took a Chance On (And Now Love)

Lightning in a Bottle by @jhalya​ Rated M I mean, if Jules is gonna play dirty by making Obi the hot fish man running around without his shirt on 99% of the time, then of COURSE I’m going to enjoy Deep Blue Sea. It’s, like, one of my favorite movies now.

Favorite Trope

Moonshine Phantom by @leewritingrecs​ Rated T We got a murder muffin who ALSO used to be a sex worker? Sign me the fuck up, I am 1000% here for this. Also all the showgirls who clearly love their coworker and only want him and his adorable wife to have the best. They may have never heard of her before, but she looks sweet, and they all have a silent agreement between them that if she breaks his heart, they’ll cut her.

Fic That Gave You a New OTP

What the Heart Wants by @sabraeal​ Rated G Haruto/Mukaze. An attempted kidnapping and subsequent rescue makes Zen and Shirayuki painfully aware that their parents have had, at some point in their lives, sex. Izana may not be happy about someone banging his mom, but is HE rather pleased at having a new sister. >:3c

Pre-Canon

The Wolf in the Woods by @krispy-kream​ (YES I STILL HAVE THIS BOOKMARKED) Rated G Everyone knows that I have very delicate food feels and this ALMOST went under the Wept Real Tears category, but I like to spread out the crying as much as possible XD Shirayuki finds a boy at the edge of the wood and decides he needs something to eat. Filed under: Guaranteed to wreck me in 500 words or less.

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 10

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, minor angst, FLUFF!!

A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There is one more after this one that we’ll call a mini chapter or epilogue. Per the usual: this fic is simply for fun and I mean no disrespect to any of the actors mentioned in the fic. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 4,167

Catch up with Chapter 9

***

Avoidance really wasn’t the word that you would use to describe what you were doing with Chris. You just didn’t know your place in his life and every day was getting harder to define that line. He was hot and cold with you. So, you kept your head down, figuratively of course, and tried to maintain that friendship line that he had put in place a couple of months ago.

After that night you agreed to work on his film, he came back to the bar during your next shift and hung out with you until close. He crashed your lunch date with Scott a few days later, showing up with a smile on his face and Scott lagging behind with eyebrows raised. But after that, you didn’t hear from him until a month before filming was to begin. It was a brief call to let you know you would receive your contract via carrier and that your flight would be arranged shortly. Filming would last two months but he wanted you to stick around an additional month when editing began because per Chris, he wanted your input. This project was his baby. His exact words were “I need you here.” How could you say no?

You were staying with Chris which is what made the avoidance or non-avoidance, whatever you were doing, hard to actually accomplish. You were fine with staying at the hotel the non-local crew were staying in, but Chris refused. He got very alpha with you on that topic and you had to admit, it turned you on a bit. But you couldn’t go there because Chris didn’t see you that way anymore.

The hot and cold thing was hard to describe. He’d casually throw his arm around you when the two of you were going over scenes, whether other people were around or not. He’d pull you into conversations with the AD and cinematographer to get your opinion, often keeping hold of your hand. The next day he’d be in a mood and barely speak to you, let alone glance your way. The cast would often look to you to be the go between because they knew he was in a mood. You knew it was stress. It had to be, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t confuse you. On those days you’d grab a bite to eat at a restaurant to give him space, often returning to your room in his house at night without as much as a hello.

Friendships are hard. That’s the bottom line.

***

“Adam! Reset! Jesus!” Chris yelled causing you to visibly wince. “Y/N!”

“I’m on it. I’m on it,” you mumbled mostly to yourself walking briskly towards Adam Scott who was getting touched up by makeup.

“He’s in a mood,” Adam sighed.

“It’s been a long week.” Why you were making excuses for Chris was beyond you. That’s all you been doing lately. “I think he wants a little more…” You gestured wildly with your hands. “Gusto. Yeah, gusto.”

Adam raised and eyebrow to you. “Gusto?”

“You know what I mean. He wants a big reaction, so give it to him. I thought the take was fine, but I’m not directing. Let’s give him that additional option.

Adam gave you a hint of a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe I can do it better.”

“You’re the best,” you said over your shoulder as you walked back to Chris who chugging down a cup of coffee and going over notes.

“All good?”

“Yep. We’re ready whenever you are.” You plopped your butt in Chris’ chair since he preferred to stand during takes.

The scene ran again without interruption and the next scene was called for setup meaning you had about fifteen to twenty minutes.

Getting up from the canvas chair, you made your way to the coffee station in the far corner of the sound stage. The small liquid cream containers were missing from their designated bowl again which made your eyes roll. Someone was hogging them; you just didn’t know who.

“Shoot.”

Craft Services was an option, but you didn’t feel like making the trek across the lot. You picked up the powdered cream and mixed it into the paper cup. Powder is always a last resort. It never mixed properly and you could always taste it. But you were desperate for your caffeine fix.

“Liquid all gone?” Chris asked, stepping up beside you, grabbing his own fresh cup.

“Yes. Again!”

“I’ve got some in my trailer,” he offered.

“That’s not any closer than Craft Service, so you’re not helping,” you said dryly.

Chris chuckled lightly, turning to lean against the table as you mixed your cup with a flimsy plastic straw. “Glad to be done with that scene.”

“I’m glad you were happy with the last take,” you replied, turning around to lean next to him.

“Once Scott quits flirting, he does pretty good work.”

You choked on your coffee causing Chris to chuckle again. “Flirting with who?”

“You.”

“Adam is not flirting with me!” you shouted. “He’s married and has kids,” you said much softer, trying to control the level of your voice. “His wife was here last week. She asked me to join her book club for goodness sake.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said, bringing the cup slowly to his lips, but keeping his eyes on you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you added with a head shake.

Yes, you fangirled when you met Adam for the first time. Parks and Recreation was one of your favorite shows. Still is.

“Adam is not a cheater and neither am I.”

“Maybe so, but you’re a liar.” Chris challenged.

Tears instantly welled in your eyes. You thought he was over it or at the very least accepted your apology. You bit your tongue, trying to find the right words and willing yourself not to cry at his remark.

“You’re lucky we’re at work, otherwise I’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” you said harshly before walking away.

Fuck him.

“Fahck. Y/N! Wait!” Chris called after you, quickly catching up.

You stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. The action caught Chris off guard as you heard him suck in a breath as his eyebrows shot up.

“Not now,” you warned before turning back to where the next scene was being set up. “Are we all set?” you asked to no one in particular. It wasn’t your job to ask, but you needed the distraction and you weren’t in the mood to talk to Chris.

A couple of non-committal hums and murmured words were spoken. You kept your eyes on your script, scribbling nonsense among the various notes you had already written. Chris’ eyes were on you. You could feel them. But now was not the time to dive into what was going on between the two of you.

***

Immediately after the scene, you tucked your script in your armpit and pulled your phone out of your back pocket, hightailing it to your office.

Y/N: Can I stay with you tonight?

Chris wasn’t behind you, which was a good thing. You snuck out of there when you saw that he was stuck in a conversation with one of the producers. Making it to your office in record time, you shut the door and finally took a breath. Today was a day that you really appreciated having a door. Chris made sure that you had one, after you mentioned only having a desk on the last shoot. It really needed a lock though.

Darn lockless door.

Scott: I’m not staying with Jen. I’m at my mother’s.

You were desperate.

Y/N: Would she mind if you had a guest??

Two seconds later, your phone rang.

“Hi Scott.”

“Hi Y/N. Whaaaaaat’s going on?” Scott asked with amusement in his voice.

You blew out a breath, plopping yourself down on the small loveseat next to your desk. “He’s still mad at me.”

“Who’s mad at you?”

“Your brother. Who else?” Hearing the annoyance in your voice, you followed that up with a quiet, ‘sorry’.

“Oh boy. Well, I’m staying at Ma’s and don’t you think that would be an awkward conversation to have with her as to why you want to stay at her place?”

“Yeah,” you said softly.

“How do you know he’s still mad at you?” Scott asked.

“Well, besides the fact that he called me a liar this afternoon, he’s been hot and cold with me. He’s been real pissy at the crew as well.”

“You two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, getting a little defensive.

“It means you really need to work your shit out.”

“Yeah, I know…But I don’t wanna.” Scott chuckled at your comment. “Could you come over? I could use a friend right now. I know he’s your brother, but if he’s just going to be moody, I don’t even want to go home.”

“He is my brother, but even I’m inclined to think he’s jerk now and again.” That made you smile. “I’ll stop by. Even pick up some pizza.”

“Thank you, my favorite Evans.”

“Appreciate the flattery sweetheart. See you later.”

“Bye, Scott.”

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the sofa. Avoiding Chris forever was not an option, but at least with Scott there, you’d be able to keep your emotions under control for the night. The buzz of your phone brought your mind out of the fog like haze.

Chris: Are you heading home?

Home. Now that was a funny thing. When Chris wasn’t pushing you away, it did feel like home. But it wasn’t your home. Not really. You are a guest and Chris is your host.

Y/N: Yeah. Getting ready to take off for the day.

You chewed on your bottom lip waiting for his reply. You really hoped he wasn’t planning on stopping by your office before you left.

Your cell buzzed again indicating another text was received.

Chris: I have a few things to finish up here, then I’ll be home.

Deciding not to reply, you grabbed your bag, stuffed your script and laptop into it, and left the studio.

***

You cleaned up your room a bit, even though it wasn’t particularly dirty. The bed was made and besides a few pieces of clothing that didn’t make it into the hamper, it was mostly clean. Dodger was fed and you had let him outside when you first made it back to Chris’ house. Scott would be at the door any minute and you really hoped he’d beat Chris home. Why? Because apparently you were twelve years old again. You were one step away from locking yourself in your bedroom with angsty music from the nineties playing on full blast.

The doorbell rang and along with it, your body relaxed. Jogging to the door, you threw it open to let Scott in, who came armed with two cardboard pizza boxes.

“Hey sweets!”

You grabbed the boxes from his hands, bringing them both into the kitchen so that Scott could step out of his shoes.

“Thanks for dinner, bunches,” you replied.

“No problem.”

“Two though?” you asked, while grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard.

Scott walked into the kitchen, giving you a hug from behind. “Even the jerk has to eat.”

“I suppose your right. I’m not sure when he’s going to be home. I’ll turn the oven on low and stick a few pieces on a cookie sheet to keep them warm.”

“So domestic!” Scott teased.

“Shut it bunches.”

Scott gasped out a laugh. “Are we throwing darts at Chris’ old head shots. I know where he hides them if that’s part of the plan.”

You turned around and threw your arms around him in a fit of giggles. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah, me too sweets,” Scott mumbled into your hair.

***

Scott had insisted on watching Spice World since you had never seen it, but you mentioned watching the Sandy Duncan version of Peter Pan when you were a kid and Scott couldn’t get it out of his head now. So, that’s what the two of you decided to watch. After a quick search YouTube, you found it and watched it through the Roku on the large flat screen in the living room. Sandy was flying around the Darlings’ bedroom when the front door opened.

“Hey. Didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” Chris said, presumably to Scott.

“Yeah, sweets and I are hanging out. Your welcome to join us,” Scott replied.

You kicked his foot with your own. Scott scowled at you and you shrugged your shoulders in return.

“There’s a…there’s pizza in the oven for you,” you said keep your eyes on the screen.

“Thanks,” Chris replied, flicking the back of Scott’s ear as he walked by.

“You can’t avoid him. And this is house, of course I’m going to offer that he joins us.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, eyes going back to the TV.

Chris walked back in the room a few minutes later, sitting in the arm chair that was angled toward the side of the couch you were sitting on. He kicked up his feet on the cushion your body was half laying half sitting on. Turning your head to look at him, he bounced his eyebrows at you before turning his head to the TV.

“Sandy Duncan? God, I used to love this.”

Scott shushed Chris and you smiled.

***

The video ended and you stood up to stretch, Scott following suit. Chris disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to grab another bottle of beer.

“Welp! I’m out of here,” Scott announced, walking to the door to slip his shoes back on.

“What?” you whispered yelled, following after him.

“You two need to talk. And I mean really talk. None of this, I forgive you bullshit, let’s be friends. You know it. He knows it. We all fucking know it.”

You stood there with your mouth agape letting his statement sink in.

“Night Chris!” Scott yelled with the door already open.

Chris jogged back into the room, two beers in his hand. “You taking off already?”

“Yeah, I’m beat. Talk to you both tomorrow,” he said, stepping out and closing the door.

You stood there starring at the closed door, clearly not sure what you were supposed to do in that moment. Turning around and facing away from a closed door was a good option. Deciding you’d been standing there a second too long, you turned around to see Chris looking at you with beers still in hand. A small smile tugged on your lips.

“Beer?” He offered taking a step closer to you.

Taking the last few steps to meet him, you took the bottle he offered from his hand, fingers grazing his. “Thanks. I’m probably going to head to my room for the night.”

“Wait. Please? Could we…talk for a minute?”

Bringing the bottle to your lips, you took a long pull before lowering it and nodding. The two of you turned back to the couch Scott and you had occupied moments before. You sat on opposite ends, but both turned to face one another. You finding comfort in your bottle which you drank from again, before noticing it was half gone.

Chris licked his lips, finger tapping audibly on the bottle. “I didn’t mean it. What I said earlier today when I called you a liar. I don’t truly believe that. I was being an asshole. I’m an asshole sometimes. I know that about myself.”

His honesty surprised you. You didn’t know how to answer, so you simply nodded.

“This movie is stressing me out. When it’s your movie, it’s a lot of pressure. I want to put out a good film, it needs to be good. So, all this pressure puts me on edge. Everyone’s doing a good job and doing what they should be doing, but I have these moments where it doesn’t feel right. It’s not perfect. If it’s not perfect I have to take the fall. Who’s going to fund a film with a shitty director who puts out a shitty product?”

“It’s not shitty, Chris. The play backs I’ve seen have been amazing.”

“It’s in my head though. I don’t think I’ll stop being stressed until it’s released to be honest.”

“I get it, but…”

“But that’s not the only thing,” he interrupted. “It’s us too. You.”

“Me?” you asked, eyebrows creasing.

“I’m honestly and completely not upset about the engagement thing. It was something you had to do for a job and I’m over it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But we went right back as if nothing happened.”

“If you’re over it and you’ve forgiven me, why can’t we move on?” you asked honestly.

“I don’t want to move on as if nothing happened.” Chris closed his eyes, mouth opening as he pulled in a big breath. “That night where you told me the truth, I told you my truth as well. I’m crazy about you Y/N and it seems like we’ve forgotten all about that. And you kissed me! How can we act like none of that happened? That none of that mattered?”

“Figured you didn’t feel that way anymore,” you mumbled before clearing your throat. “That the lie was too big and the secret was too big that you didn’t see me like that. Like someone you could care about. More than a friend.”

Chris set his bottle on the coffee table and scooted closer to you on the couch. He grabbed the bottle from your hand, placing it beside his. He took both of your hands in his, playing with the ring on your right hand with his thumb.

“Not possible.”

The words were so simple yet so deep that you felt your heart banging wildly against your ribcage.

“I still want you. Want us,” you whispered.

Chris’ lips curved up into a hesitant opened mouth smile. He brought your hands to his mouth, kissing each one, before lowering them back down between you. “That’s all I want.”

You lifted yourself to your knees, leaning in closer to him, but wanting him to decide what happens next. You kissed him the first time, it was his turn to make the move.

It didn’t take him long to decide as he let go of one of your hands, bringing it to the back of your neck and pulling you down to his lips. They were as soft as you remembered. His kissed you tenderly, with no rush, as if the two of you had all night. You pulled back slightly and gave him a smile.

“That was nice,” you said softly.

“I’m not done.”

Chris pulled your mouth back to his, kissing you gently until you felt his tongue skim along your seam. You opened immediately, allowing him entrance. He rolled his tongue along yours as you trailed your hand up his chest, along his neck, and into his hair.

The two of you made out for what felt like hours. You straddled his lap and eventually he positioned you both so that you were laying on the couch. It was kept mostly PG13 with kisses, whispered words, and a lot of cuddling. It was nice. Better than nice and you knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.

***

Chris: Can you come to my trailer? We need to go over scene 28.

Scene 28 was code for ‘I want to kiss you’. The two of you had been sneaking around on set for a week. You still hadn’t gone further than second base which was fine by you since you wanted to take this slow. Plus, you were working together. Working together and starting up a relationship could be complicated. Filming would be wrapped in a couple of weeks, and you had already committed to staying an additional month for the start of editing.

Your relationship with Chris right now was in this tight fairytale bubble that you didn’t want to pop. There was no talk of the future. Not even talk about how you’d spend the holidays. Whether it was Chris or if it was all you, either way, you wanted to stay in this bubble.

You quickly grabbed your script along with a pen and made the quick walk from the studio offices to Chris’ trailer. The sneaking around was thrilling. It was your own private secret that only you and Chris shared. No one was following you, but you couldn’t help but glance behind you every few seconds.

You reached Chris’ trailer, knocking twice on the closed door. Chris opened it wide, looking around to see if anyone was watching the two of you. They weren’t.

“Hey! You wanted to go over that scene?” you asked too loudly.

“Ye-yeah. Come on in Y/N.”

They two of you were so good at this game.

You stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind you. Chris grabbed your script and pen before you had a chance to set them down. With his free hand, he grabbed your elbow and brought you to him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against your lips.

You gave him a chaste kiss. “I just saw you this morning.”

He kissed you again. “Yeah, that was hours ago.”

You laughed, wrapping both arms around his neck as Chris started walking the two of you backwards to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours. Your calves hit the end of the bed, so you lowered your bottom to the soft mattress. Chris lowered himself over you and dragged the two of you up the bed until your head hit the pillows.

“Can’t wait until we don’t have to hide this. Us,” he said against your ear, mouth leaving wet kisses along the length of your neck.

“Me too. This is fun though,” you moaned when his tongue traced the shell of your ear.

“It is. But I want to take you out and not have people whispering about us,” he said, causing you to giggle. “What?” His face pulled back to look at your own.

“Well, you are Chris Evans. They’re going to stare and whisper about you no matter what.”

“Shut it,” Chris replied, kissing your nose.

***

“Are you ready babe?” Chris called from the hallway outside your room.

“Just about,” you called back finishing your hair in the mirror attached to the closet door.

Grabbing your lip balm from the dresser, you stock it in the pocket of your jeans and joined Chris in the living room.

“Wow. You look great,” Chris drawled out.

You looked down at your dark jeans, boots, and burgundy sweater. “This?”

Chris wrapped you in his arms. “Just beautiful.”

You kissed his perfect pout. “You’re too kind Mr. Evans. Now, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Chris interlaced your fingers and pulled you to the door.

Dinner was at Chris’ mother’s house tonight. It wasn’t the first time; in fact, it was the fifth time not including brunch one Sunday since you came to town. You had met the whole Evans clan minus his father and you truly liked them all. You missed your family back home in the Midwest, so being around a close bunch such as the Evans made you happy.

“Ma! We’re here!” Chris yelled as the two of you walked into her home.

“You don’t need me to make yourselves comfortable,” Lisa said, peeking her head outside the kitchen.

“Hi Lisa,” you said with a wave, Chris still holding your other hand.

“Hi sweetie. Dinner should be ready in five. You know where the drinks are.”

“Sure do.”

You pulled Chris in the kitchen with you, not that you needed him to accompany you, but he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Chris released your hand when you gave him a look. You needed both your hands to grab glasses from the upper cupboard after all.

Digging into the fridge, you pulled out a pitcher of lemonade no doubt made by Lisa that afternoon. You poured two glasses and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator before handing Chris his glass, only for him to set it on the counter. He took your free hand in his once again.

“Ma,” he said, Lisa turning from the stove to look at him. “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Lisa chuckled as did you. Her face one of confusion. “Christopher, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling wonderful ma.”

Lisa stood in front of the two of you. “Then why are you introducing me to Y/N who I already know?”

“Well,” Chris started, coy smile on his face. “I’d like to introduce you to Y/N, my girlfriend.”

A surprised smile sprung up on your face as you squeezed Chris’ hand tightly.

“Oh! This is quite the development. When did this start?” she asked pointing between the two of you.

“A little more than two weeks ago,” he replied, throwing arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then I say, it’s about time,” Lisa replied, giving you a wink and turning back to the stove. “But how’s this going to work when Y/N goes back home to California?”

That was a question the two you in your fairytale bubble hadn’t yet discussed, but would need to.

***

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