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Careful - Chapter One
(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter One: Over Yet
We can go farther, beyond the end.
Summary:
You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.
That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.
Word Count: 5,900
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?
A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.
...
The team had been in Portland for three days.
No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.
A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.
“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”
He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.
Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.
Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.
Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.
They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.
“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”
She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.
“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”
“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.
“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”
“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”
Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:
“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”
“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”
“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.
“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.
“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”
“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”
He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.
“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.
“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”
“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”
“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”
“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”
Prentiss visibly cringed at this.
“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.
Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.
“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”
She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.
“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”
“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.
“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”
“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.
This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.
“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.
“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.
“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.
“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”
“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.
Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.
“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”
Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.
“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”
“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.
A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.
“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”
“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.
“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”
“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”
“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”
“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.
“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”
“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”
“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.
“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”
“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”
“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”
…
The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.
After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.
So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.
“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.
“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”
“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”
“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.
“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.
“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”
The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.
It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.
It was you.
What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?
Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.
Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -
You had a son.
A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.
And his birth date was… fuck.
He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.
One thousand, seven hundred and two days.
Four years, eight months, and two days.
It wasn’t difficult math.
Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?
His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.
Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?
Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?
He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.
What the fuck was going on?
There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.
Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-
“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.
Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.
“Did you find something?”
…
All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.
So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.
It could definitely work.
When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.
So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.
…
“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”
“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.
He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.
“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”
JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.
Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.
Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.
The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.
But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.
Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.
It had been four years.
JJ was someone he could lean on right now.
“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.
“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.
“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.
“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”
It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.
“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.
“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.
“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”
“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”
“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.
It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.
“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”
There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).
She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.
So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?
“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.
Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.
“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.
That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.
“One thing at a time, alright?”
…
When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.
It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.
Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.
He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.
And now the two of you likely had a child together.
Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.
“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”
She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.
He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.
He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.
Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.
At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.
You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.
Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.
But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.
He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.
“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”
You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.
You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.
So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.
You were breath-taking.
“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.
You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.
Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.
The first night that he knew he was in love with you.
…
He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.
It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.
It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.
Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.
It was a perfect night.
Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.
His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.
And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.
“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.
You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.
“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”
Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.
“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”
“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.
Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.
“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”
“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”
Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.
“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”
Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.
“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.
“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”
You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.
“Interesting.” You replied.
“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”
Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.
“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”
Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.
“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”
“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.
“And see-”
Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.
He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.
It was perfect. You were perfect.
You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.
But Spencer was nothing like that.
He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.
When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.
“That was… wow.” He sighed.
“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.
“Well, I - you - wow.”
It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.
Back then - everything had been perfect.
He had no clue where it all went so wrong.
...
Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar
#sundrop writes#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#dad!spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic
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Safety Measures // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader
Summary: It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.
Extra reading: Last Hope for background context
A/N: Happy New Year, beautiful readers! I hope everyone is well and safe.
Requested by: @theatrelove3000 thank you so so much for the request and all your support with my writing. As always, you're the best!
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, polyamory, ptsd, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, discussion of past abuse, domestic fluff, dom/sub undertones, cock warming, subspace (kinda), hurt/comfort, new member of the family (yay!), puppy
Words: 4.8k
my masterlist 📚
AO3 Link
Insomnia was an issue you’d never had to deal with before. Not when you have two of the most powerful men of all of the East Coast tiring you out and wrapped around your body to make you feel safe and content.
However, as the seconds ticked by on the clock position on the nightstand next to the bed, you’d found that your body was willing to do anything but sleep. As midnight struck, any hope that had been inkling in your thoughts was diminished. There you were, half sprawled over Steve’s naked chest, his warmth burning through your skin, with Bucky spooning around your back, sandwiching you thoroughly between the two of them, legs crisscrossed between one another.
Even in the safe embrace, your heart continued to palpate painfully in your chest with such powerful thumps you were worried it would wake one of your lovers.
It was always this day. This date. Every year, that sprung fear through your soul, with the memories of your past returning to haunt you. Before Bucky. Before Steve or either of their safety and love, you’d been involved with your family business, reigned by your sadistic brother, Enzo, who was both hateful and abusive, causing you to live a life that was not worth living at all.
For countless years, you’d simply been floating through life, doing anything your brother demanded to benefit his gang. There was no hope, love, or light in your life until the men whose arms you were wrapped tightly in found you, saved you, and showed you what life was about. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment, especially with the violent and bloody end to your brother, but then readjusting to the newfound freedom had taken its toll. The anxiety from your past still haunts you to this very day.
In truth, in the first few years surrounding your brother's death anniversary, you’d celebrated the beginning of your new happiness and life. However, as you grew older and had to live through the dangers of being in the most infamous mafia gang in Brooklyn, your optimistic perspective became somewhat fragile with the realities of becoming close to losing everyone and everything you loved on multiple occasions.
So now, when this dark day loomed over your head once more, your anxiety rose along with the reminder of the horrors that you’d experience throughout your lifetime. Paranoia blossomed into something that was logically not plausible, frightened that somehow, Enzo would return and take you back to the hell hole he once kept you contained within.
These fears had been discussed with both Steve and Bucky on multiple occasions, as well as your friends, who promptly reminded you that nowhere was safer on earth than with all of them. There was 24/7 surveillance within the office and your home, guards patrolling, all armed and trained, as well as having the enhanced bodies of your boyfriends always at your side.
You were safe.
Safe.
And yet, still, there you lay. Wide awake, breaths shallow, trying to remain as quiet as possible so that you may listen to any sounds of intruders walking through your home. It is an impossible feat to do either way due to the pounding of your heartbeat without your ears, the repetitive thump and drum that increased in speed over the minutes. Your palms were becoming clammy where they were resting on Steve’s chest, a faint tremble beginning to throb through your limbs as well. You closed your fingers into a tight fist, attempting to cease the shaking whilst blowing out a long breath as the clock ticked to 00:01 am.
It was no use. You couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t just simply lay there and wait to be attacked or taken.
Carefully as you could, you attempted to climb out of your fierce hold, but due to your fragile state and the firm grip of Steve and Bucky, the movements stirred them both awake.
“Baby? Everything ok? Where are you going?” Steve asked, still half asleep but attempting to rouse himself more by rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Sorry”, you whisper into the darkness, “I just needed to use the bathroom”. The lie trembled from your lips as you clumsily searched the bedroom floor for some clothing to cover your naked body. From the smell of the shirt that you were now tugging over your head, you’d found Bucky’s t-shirt in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to remain in the darkness, you could see Bucky moving closer to Steve on the bed, his face resting on the blonde's chest, replacing where you’d been.
The sight had you smiling for a split second before a rustle of the wind against the windows drew your frightened attention back to reality. Stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you, there was a stalling moment where the walls seemed to close around you. Strangling. Suffocation. The fears of your past squeezing closer.
“No”, you chastise yourself in a whisper barely audible as you take a single sweeping step towards the sink, running the cold water to splash it on your face. “Enzo is dead. Stop freaking out, you’re being ridiculous!”. Yes, you were having a conversation with yourself, but only because it was a coping mechanism before you completely lost your mind and had a panic attack.
“Get a hold of yourself!”, you continue the monologue whilst staring at your distressed reflection in the mirror. “You’re safe here in your home”. For some reason, your bottom lip began quivering with the rising emotions and the overwhelming urge to cry. Giving your body a thorough head-to-body shake and angrily wiping away the traitorous tears dripping down your cheeks, you also gave yourself stern talking.
“Either you get yourself together, or you embarrass yourself and wake up Steve and Bucky”. You wouldn’t, not when it was something as irrational as being frightened that your definitely deceased deranged brother would somehow return from the dead to steal you to a life of misery. You couldn’t stomach waking them from their slumber to see the sad puppy eyes they would give you as they told you all the things you already knew. You were safe with them; they’d never let anything bad happen.
Filling your lungs with air, you blew out a long, slow breath until your lungs were completely empty. “Right. One search of the house and back to bed”, you decided, needing to check the surroundings with the hopes it would ease your battle with anxiety and insomnia.
Upon leaving the ensuite bathroom, you were thankfully greeted by the sound of two distinctively soft snores from both men still lying together in bed. Tip-toeing past them and into the hallway, you made sure to keep the lights off with your eyes having adjusted to the darkness as you approached Steve’s office.
There were a few things that you needed from this room. Firstly, to check the security camera feeds from his laptop, showing every angle possible surrounding the house and inside the many rooms of the luxury property. The baseball bat was also hiding beneath the desk. It was one of many weapons stashed throughout your home, carefully placed by both Bucky and his bodyguard Natasha and even though a gun would be a swifter finale for any intruder, there were still more consequences if you were to shoot the firearm accidentally and hit the wrong target whereas, with a bat, you could still keep someone at arm's length and also not fatally wound a friend if they came knocking at the door.
Clutching the smooth bat in both of your trembling hands, you watched the screen, flicking between rooms and areas of the exterior of your home, not spotting a single leaf out of place. In fact, the only emotion that seemed to bloom through your chest was adoration as you stared at the bedroom video feed, noticing that Bucky was now the bigger spoon, wrapped thoroughly around Steve, whose hands were stretched out to your side of the bed, like in his unconscious state, he was still searching for you.
Guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the sight, and closed the laptop with a sigh. You knew this paranoia would fade by the time tomorrow came around. Still, it was completely illogical for you to react rationally today, so with a sigh that echoed around the office, you stood and began to search the property physically.
Holding the bat at arm's length, you peeked around corners first then swung before stepping out. You'd been trained to use all the weapons scattered throughout the house with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, even with how to strike with a baseball bat effectively.
Every shift of shadows out of the corner of your eyes and every creak of the house naturally settling or knocking with the raging winds outside had your heart racing and senses going into full alert.
One check of the house turned into four full sweeps to ensure no one was there. It was also a slow and thorough check, so by the time you were stepping carefully through the kitchen, glancing out of the back window and into the dark abyss that was your back garden. The creak of footsteps echoed from upstairs; you’d become lost and disorientated on the search, and you had neglected to check the time.
05:03 am.
A sniffle and quiet cough followed the footsteps of the man who had decided to wake earlier than most. In a rush of adrenaline and the need to not be found with a baseball bat in hand like a crazy lady in the dark, you decided to hide the weapon in one of the kitchen cupboards and quickly pretended to be preparing coffee as the sleepy steps wandered down the carpeted stairs.
Placing two cups onto the kitchen counter, you almost held your breath in anticipation for the morning grumbly welcome by whoever had woken first. Steve and Bucky both like to be awake early, much to your usual pleas for them to stay in bed.
However, as the man walked into the kitchen, not a single word was shared as he stepped up close behind you, enveloping your body in a warm and metal arm, wrapping tightly around your waist and pulling you backwards until flush against a naked chest. Stubbled cheeks nuzzled into your neck as lips gently kissed the sensitive skin as you sighed, eyes closing and all tension diminishing into the floor at the feeling of finally being safe.
The two of you swayed on the spot, wrapped in the tight embrace, listening to the water in the coffee pot. One of your hand gripped onto the metal fingers, feeling the smooth material beginning to warm and match the temperature of your skin. The other hand lifted to rest on the back of his head, scratching his buzzed hair, earning a comforting moan from Bucky as he kissed your jaw.
“It’s a rare day when you’re awake before me”, Bucky whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing it. Goosebumps lined your body with the gruff tone of his early morning voice. He didn’t pester you any more about why you were awake at this time, but he did pinch the hem of your shirt. “Is it your plan to always wear my shirts so I must be topless?”
His words pulled a giggle from your lips, shaking your head as you poured the coffee into each cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”.
The two of you sat at the dining room table, coffee in one hand and in the other you held onto one another, admiring the night turn into the day with dawn breaking over the fences that lined the back garden. It was blissful and a welcomed distraction from the terrors beneath your surface.
Steve eventually joined, groaning about waking up alone as he kissed you, then Bucky on the back of the head. “Who knew the big grown mafia boss could be so needy?” Bucky quipped with a teasing smirk over the rip of his cup before taking another glug of the coffee.
“That’s a lot of sass for someone who will be going without any breakfast if he keeps it up”, Steve grumbles as he looks through the refrigerator to start preparing the three of you breakfast like he did on most mornings. Before Bucky could respond, Steve asked curiously, “Why is there a baseball bat in with the plates?”
Your eyes downcast to stare into your empty cup, shrugging your shoulders at the burning stares of your boyfriends. “I don’t know. Anyway, who wants a fresh coffee?”
Thankfully, nothing more was mentioned regarding the random appearance of the baseball bat as the three of you ate and prepared to head into the office. You were thankful for the distraction working in the gang gave you, especially on a stressful day like today. Although the paranoia and anxiety that had kept you awake still bubbled away beneath the surface.
On the car journey to work, even squished between Steve and Bucky in the back seats, their hands eagerly resting on the naked skin of your thighs, having pushed the dress up to have the contact. Even your bodyguard and best friend Sam, who was driving the vehicle, couldn’t ease the panic that came from every car horn that blared, the dangerously speeding vehicles that passed or just the erratic driving that was expected with other idiots on the road.
Every single disruption had you anticipating that the car you were in would be hit or stopped, and your brother would then arrive and drag you away. Of course, this didn’t happen, and as you came to work, another heavy sigh released from your body as you walked through the extensive security to get to the office.
New shipments of discreetly stolen goods had arrived, which was a welcome distraction for you, checking the quality and organising where and to whom it would be sold. This only lasted for an hour before the coldness began to creep in, and you made excuses to return to Steve and Bucky back in the office.
“You know you can talk to us, right?” Bucky reminds you carefully whilst pulling your chair closer to his. You couldn’t meet his intense stare as you shifted your body under his awaiting arm so you were cuddled close to his side.
“Yep”, you respond casually, leaning into his warmth.
Bucky’s face lowered to your ear as he stroked his fingers down your arm. “And you also know you’re safe with me. With Steve. In this building or home. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Doll”.
You smile politely at him, trying to ignore the guilt that, for some reason, passed over you as you reached to take his hand that was draped over your shoulders. “I know”.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bbcky checking his phone for the 15th time in an hour. Not that you’d been counting.
Finally, he seemed to receive the notification he’d been waiting for as he suddenly sprung up from his seat, pulling his leather jacket swiftly.
A frown settled over your features as you sat forward, “where are you going?”
Bucky glanced towards Steve first before addressing your question. “I’ve just got some errands to run, nothing special. I won’t be long, Sweetheart”.
He was leaving you. On a day when you needed him most so that you felt safe, he for some reason had to go.
You stood abruptly, pushing back your chair and taking urgent steps towards him whilst nervously playing with your fingers. “You’re going to leave me on my own!”
“Who am I? The milkman?” Sam joked from where he was standing near the door, and you instantly regretted the words, having not meant them that way. What’s worse is that Steve muttered something under his breath from his desk and now you were riddled with more guilt as Bucky’s sad eyes turned to you, his hands resting heavily on your shoulders.
“I won’t be long, and maybe you’ll get a surprise later.” He tried to bring a smile to your lips, but it was worthless as you were caught between staring at Sam and Steve, trying to find the words to apologise. Bucky breathed heavily through his nose at seeing you distraught, but then his phone pinged again, so with one last kiss to your temple, he made his way to the exit.
Turning to Sam whilst awkwardly rubbing your cheek to ease the burning of embarrassment under your skin, you attempted to apologise, but Steve cut off your sentence. “I’m sorr-”.
“Baby, come here”.
Turning towards the comforting voice, you saw that Steve’s full attention was now on you. He’d moved his seat away from his desk and opened his arm, a clear sign for you to approach, which you did with rushed steps before climbing into his warm, sturdy lap. Your knees rested on either side of his thighs as your fingers caded through the curling blonde hair at the nape of his neck which you were quick to bury your face into, breathing in his calming cologne.
“I’m sorry about the comment; I didn’t mean it like that. I know I’m not alone. My head is just all over the place and-”.
“Shh, I know, baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. I know you’d rather us both be around for you today”. There it was. The one small mention and reference made by someone else that this was a day that you hated. It’s not that it needed to be spoken about as it had been clear that both of your boyfriends had been trying their hardest to be there for you today by being at your side as much as possible, constantly checking in with your emotions and making sure you ate and drank enough.
But Steve saying it out loud seemed to make it all the more real, so as you clung to him with more desperation, his arms did just the same until it felt as if there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t currently being touched by his giant frame.
“I love you, Steve, so much”, you plead to him in a tired daze, finally feeling somewhat safe now that you were crowded into his body.
“I’d do anything for you, baby girl, you know that. I love you too. Try and get some sleep; it’ll make the day go faster”.
You wanted to and knew you could if you’d let your eyes drop close, but something still wasn’t sitting right like an itch that needed to be scratched.
“Could I please make one request… sir?” you say, nerves beginning to flicker through your chest at the intimacy of the request, already starting to switch into the role of the submissive mind, especially after the fragile state you’d been in all day.
Steve seemed to straighten his posture at using the name, and his lips kissed the top of your head a few times before he responded, “Anything”.
Lifting your head away from his neck and gazing into the endlessly intense blue eyes that always looked so kindly down at you, you asked, “Please can we touch everywhere? I just want to sit and be close”.
Steve tried not to smile at the innocence and the way you couldn’t even say the words, ‘Please can I cock warm you?’ which he knew was what you were asking. Reaching between your bodies, he began to undo his belt and zipper, “You know you don’t need to ask, Sweetheart. I want you to feel comfortable”.
You could never explain to someone why you loved the thought of cock warming so much. It seemed to settle both your nerves and put you into a relaxing state. Not at all times, though. Half the time, it would just turn you into a horny, wet mess that ended with you riding the cock until at least three orgasms. But other times, such as now, you just needed to be stretched and feel as close to Steve as possible.
Lifting higher onto your knees, you moved aside your underwear and lifted the front of your dress as you manoeuvred yourself to accommodate the toe-curling length that was Steve Rogers. Through your groaning sigh, you couldn’t hear Steve’s matching noise as he made sure you were comfortable with a steading arm around your hips before shuffling his seat closer to the desk and continuing with his work and talking to Sam about an email he’d just received.
You were asleep before hearing the end of the email being read out. Your head is resting on his shoulder, hands loosely holding onto the material of his crisp navy blue shirt. You were warm, full and safe.
Hours later, as the sun began to set and the day passed, you were still drowsy, much more relaxed than you had been in the morning. You’d wake up to Steve packing his belongings and Sam saying he’d warm the car for you and Steve.
As you gathered your disorientated thoughts and tried to sit up, you noticed that Steve was very much still thoroughly hard inside of your soaked cunt. Silently, you thanked whatever super serum had been injected into him during his time in the army. You clenched at the realisation, and Steve hummed in contentment at realising you were waking up.
“Let’s get you home. Bucky’s waiting there for us”, Steve informed quietly whilst cupping your cheek tenderly.
With the position you’d been sitting in, your legs were sore and tense, but Steve was more than happy to carry you down, even with his cock still inside. However, with the movements of his steps, it caused his length to ease in and out of your already sensitive cunt that by the time you’d made it to the car, you were clinging desperately to his shoulders as an orgasm rushed through you, pulsing between your legs.
Steve’s knees nearly buckled as he rested your frame against the side of the car, his face dropping to your neck as he breathed you in deeply. Your cunt continued to clench around his cock until he, too, joined you in euphoria with a deep grunt and a snap of his hips; warmth flooded your hole and began dripping out and onto the floor. Neither of you or his employees batted an eyelid as both of you came.
Once in the car, you were so distracted with cleaning each other up that the idiots in other vehicles that had panicked you on the way in, didn’t remotely phase you.
Wishing Sam a good night, you and Steve walked up to your front door, hand in hand. Steve opened the front door for you, letting you walk into the living room first, where you abruptly stopped, causing the blonde to nearly knock into you.
“I promise I tried to stop him, but he’s a feral little beast!” Bucky exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by something that could only be described as chaos.
It seemed all of the decorative pillows had been utterly destroyed as the contents of the fluff covered all of the surfaces. Not only this, but there were half-eaten shoes, and the corners of the couches and coffee table seemed to have tiny bite marks gnawed into them.
“Bucky?! What did you do?” You couldn’t even comprehend where the mess began and ended as you looked at your dishevelled boyfriend sitting on the floor. Well, he was more lying down, reaching beneath one of the couches as he began to sit up and plastered a wide, toothy grin towards you.
“Surprise!” Bucky shouts with exhausted joy as Steve sighs with a shaky laugh from behind you.
“Surprise? What kind of a surprise is my home being destroyed?” you say, gobsmacked, staring longingly at your favourite cushions ripped to shreds.
As Bucky opened his mouth to explain, a tiny yap sounded from beneath the furniture where he’d just been reaching, and suddenly, a bundle of black fur was pounding for your ankles. It took you a second to drop to your knees and gasp, reaching for the puppy.
“Careful! His teeth are viscous”, Bucky warns, trying to reach forward to grab the animal, but you beat him to it and pull the pup into your lap.
“Oh my god, look at you! Aren’t you just the most beautiful little thing! Was it you that destroyed my lovely cushions? It was, wasn’t it? That’s okay. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you for everything. You're just so damn cute!” you couldn’t help but talk in a childishly high voice as you spoke to the adorable little puppy.
Thankfully, he didn’t bite you with his tiny sharp teeth and instead rolled onto his back on your legs, his paws resting in the air as he waited for a belly rub you happily gave him with carefully placed head kisses.
“You didn’t tell me you were getting a new guard dog! And what happened to the rule of not letting them into the house?” you asked Bucky as you continued to pet the pup.
Steve squatted down next to you, reaching to stroke the puppy behind his ears but then quickly retreating as the tiny sharp teeth nearly nipped his fingers. “He’s not going to be a guard dog; he’s going to be your dog”.
Your head spun with how fast you looked between your boyfriends as you screamed, “What?!”
“Yep! He’s all yours. He’s a Rottweiler and is eight weeks old. They’re known to be a protective breed and great guard dogs, so we will have him properly trained a couple of times a week for this, but we also want him to be yours”. As Bucky explained he knelt closer which earned the attention of your new puppy who watched him closely but continued to lick your fingers in between as you scratched the top of his head.
Steve rested a firm hand on your lower back as he continued, “We know how difficult today is, even with our reassurance that you are safe from Enzo”. Even just hearing his name, your whole body tightens and locks, almost forgetting to breathe until a certain puppy begins to wiggle and try and jump up your body to attempt to lick your face, having noticed the change in demeanour. “We wanted there to be someone around for you all the time, just with the chance that you could still feel safe if Bucky or I weren’t by your side. So, we are hoping this little rascal will be able to do this”, Steve says playfully, stroking along the puppy's back but quickly withdrawing when he nearly nipped again.
“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin with telling you how amazing this gift is”, you say brightly, glancing between the two men you loved most in the world.
“Don’t thank us; it’s the least we could do”, Steve mutters whilst leaning in to kiss your cheek and then standing up, beginning to grab handfuls of fluff from all the surfaces with an attempt at cleaning up the mess.
“I just want you to be happy”, Bucky whispers whilst kissing your other cheek, but then his gaze moves to the puppy, and a line forms between his brows as he frowns. “There will be some ground rules, though. No dog on the couch or in bed. We need boundaries”.
You nod your head in understanding but lean closer to whisper to the pup loud enough that Steve and Bucky could still hear. “Don’t listen to the grumpy old man. You can stay wherever you’d like!”
Bucky sighs whilst rolling his eyes and begins to help Steve with cleaning.
The three of you were sat in front of the TV watching a late-night film. The four of you were sitting on the couch as the puppy was resting in your lap, exhausted from all the playing you’d been doing and now resting as you tried to think of a name for the little guy.
“What about Winchester? That’s a good dog name, right?” you ask the boys, but mostly the dog, hoping he would react to one of the suggestions, but he hasn’t succeeded so far. You pondered some more whilst petting his little black ears. “Oh, what about Sargeant?! No… what about Rogers? No…”. You gave up trying to think of a name off the top of your head and began to scroll for suggestions online.
“Max? Brutus? Thor? Um, nope, these aren’t good. Chase? Ari? Bullet? Dodger? Bli-” Your suggestions stop as the puppy’s head tilts to look at you, seeming more awake. “What is it? Is it one of the names? Ari?” No response, “Bullet?” still no response. “Dodger?” his precious little tail began to wag as he yapped.
“Dodger? You like that name?” he barked again, attempting to climb higher up your body to lick your face as you laughed fondly.
“Dodger it is”, Steve announced from your side with a smile.
#steve rogers#bucky barnes#bucky#stucky#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#stucky x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes x reader#marvel smut#mafia au#mafia stucky#mafia steve rogers#mafia bucky#mine*
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So there's this post with a troubling number of notes going around insisting that "dead dove" is not a genre, it doesn't inherently have anything to do with darkfic, and that the tag could be applied to fics that are "100% fluffy where everyone's having a good time" if they happen to contain some abnormal (though entirely non-problematic) content like an unusual kink. The claim is that "dead dove: do not eat" is simply a "courtesy tag" that means "this is a very specific niche, mind the tags." And that's just... wrong.
I wrote up a whole rebuttal to this post since I can't stand misinformation and frankly OP was being kinda rude and judgey on top of their wrongness. But right after I posted my reply, OP turned off reblogs because, and I quote, “some fuckwad added some dumb shit onto this post and it is no longer educational” (the “fuckwad” being me and the “dumb shit” being proof that they were wrong). A couple people have asked me to make a rebloggable version of my response, which I've decided to do because this isn't the first time I've heard similar claims and I want to help set the record straight. However, I'm not linking the original post on the off chance this gains traction because OP did the right thing by turning off reblogs, preventing it from circulating further, and I don't want them to get hate for being unfortunately misinformed.
For those who don't know the history, "dead dove: do not eat" was originally proposed as a catchall "hydra trash party" alternative label for any fandom to warn that the content of a fic may be considered problematic or potentially upsetting and to read the tags carefully so you know what you're getting into and won't complain later. Specifically, DD:DNE was intended to convey that the Bad Things in the fic would likely be reveled in and not explicitly condemned by the narrative, which some people tend to get up in arms about, hence the need for the extra warning in addition to the tags. Don't believe me? Here's the original proposal (note DD:DNE can be found on a handful of fics dated before 2015 but this is when it really took off and became a Thing).
There are currently around 50,000 fics tagged as "dead dove: do not eat" on AO3 and close to 50% of those also include the rape/noncon warning (which of course is not the only type of "dead dove" but is one of the most popular and most consistently tagged). The normal percentage of noncon fics in any given fandom? Around 1-3%. That's a HUGE disparity. So don't tell me that dead dove is just a general "courtesy tag" and doesn't or shouldn't have dark connotations. Even the context of the original joke on Arrested Development has a dark undertone. Micheal Bluth casually finds an animal carcass in a bag in his refrigerator with the label "do not eat", as if eating it would be any sane person's first thought. The whole situation is kinda fucked up. And this fucked up vibe very much carries over into fandom usage too, as was intended.
The claim that dead dove has nothing to do with the content's genre and could just as easily be used to describe a 100% fluffy fic in which everyone's having a good time is straight up Wrong, or at the very least, severely warping the original meaning. Also, when someone these days says that they like/dislike "dead dove" most people in fandom automatically understand what that means because of the consistency of its usage over the years and the way language evolves. Whether you like it or not, "dead dove" IS a genre now and the term does carry a specific connotation. I do agree that DD:DNE should definitely still be used in conjunction with other tags, when applicable, to be explicit about the exact type of fucked up content you may find, but to say that the term is meaningless on its own is patently false and I'm tired of people who don't know what they're talking about pushing this narrative and causing even more confusion.
You want a generic term that also means "mind the tags" and doesn't have any inherently dark connotations? Just use good ol' "what it says on the tin" instead of trying to force dead dove to be something it's not.
#fyi I've tweaked my response slightly to remove specific references to OP and make it read better on its own#I hope I don't regret making this post and inviting The Discourse#but dead dove is a topic that is very near and dear to me#I feel like someone has got to say something and put a stop to all of the misinformation around it these days#fandom#long post#my words#psa#wendy's help desk
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Five Minutes
A/N: As promised, y’all. Thanks to @strang3lov3 and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for always helping me improve my work ❤️💖 Just to put it out there: The translations aren’t always literal but paraphrased to maintain context.
Summary: Lucien kisses you outside during your house party and puts his hand under your dress.
Pairing: Lucien Flores x reader (no y/n)
Tags: Teasing/banter, pet names, passionate kisses, groping, dirty talk, over panty clit stim, degradation, slight verbal humiliation, overstimulation, bit of exhibitionism
Word count: 1.8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54514960
Five Minutes
Your head is swimming with how close Lucien is. His breath tickles your skin when he talks, ghosts over your ear as he noses along the side of your head. In the smoke-filled room where the floor shakes from the music playing, you can smell his cologne on him. He is velvety soft when he speaks, enchanting you, “Let’s get out of here, just for a second.”
“We can’t,” you turn your head a little and look up at him through your lashes, “It’s my party, baby.”
“I don’t care,” he nods towards the open screen door in your living room, “When everyone is distracted, we could slip out. Nobody will notice.”
“That their host is gone?” You tut in disbelief, “Luce…”
“Corazón (honey),” he mimics your tone of voice, “They’re too busy to notice us leaving for a few minutes.”
“Oh, it’s a few minutes now? It was getting out of here a second ago,” you tease him playfully. In reality, you have already decided to give in and all he has to do is drag you away from the crowds. You won’t protest.
“I feel like we’re throwing out a lot of terms about time on the table here,” he grins against your forehead, having moved slightly to hold you close. His arms rest along the small of your back.
“I’ll give you, hmm,” you pretend to think, “Five minutes. Is that satisfactory?”
“I’ll give you satisfactory,” he unwraps himself from you to grab your wrist. You giggle as he drags you through the loud house, slipping the both of you out of the half-open door to your backyard.
The air inside was oppressive; smoke-filled, hot, and with a distinct smell of alcohol. The air outside however is filled with mischief and adventure, your garden smelling of freshly-cut grass and blooming lilacs. Lucien’s hand slips down your wrist so he can entwine your fingers, his hand sure in its grip when he guides you past a group of people who are talking loudly. He hadn’t been wrong; no one seems to notice you passing by as they are all too invested in their conversations. Lucien would probably phrase it that they have their heads too far up their asses.
He leads you to the wall of your house that is enshrouded in darkness now that the sun is no longer shining. The chatter from your guests fades into background noise, replaced by the cicadas singing in the night breeze and a gentle rustling of the leaves on the trees.
As soon as you become your only witnesses, Lucien backs you up against the rough exterior of your house. He cups your face with gentle, calloused hands, and then suddenly, he kisses you deeply and forces you to do a sharp intake of air through your nose. It is like he tries to be soft and sweet but there’s something more behind the way his lips meet yours, and he easily slides his tongue into your mouth because you cannot help but moan at the taste of him.
His thumb goes down your cheek, settles on your chin to pull your mouth open so he can lick hotly into it. You place your hands on his shoulders to dig your fingers into the muscles there, then tilt your head to meet him even more while desire pools in your belly.
The hand that isn’t holding your mouth open for him slides down to rest on your shoulder. However, it moves quickly to grope obscenely at your chest over the fabric of your dress and you let him as his thumb brushes over a nipple. It stiffens immediately despite the indirect touch.
The moan you let out turns into a snicker that interrupts you. Lucien’s fingers have slipped under the dress strap on your shoulder and he tries pulling it off. You shake your head while laughing quietly, “No, Luce, c’mon.”
“But you have such pretty tits,” he argues with almost a raspy whine whilst you pull the strap back in place, “Necesito sentirte (I need to feel you).”
“That’s very nice and all but I don’t need the whole party to see my breasts,” you bump your head slightly against the wall when Lucien’s head descends to kiss your neck, “You’re gonna have to get creative, I’m not going to strip in my garden like I’m in my teens.”
As he noses along your pulse point, both his palms skim down your sides and eventually cup your ass with lewd hands. You think that might be it, but suddenly his fingers bunch up the fabric of your skirt only to pull it upwards so he can slide his hand underneath it. You gasp as he drapes his palm over your whole mound on top of your underwear.
“You’re certainly determined,” you say breathlessly as he grinds the heel of his hand into your clit. More blood goes south. You reach for his hair to pull his mouth to yours again, moaning as he guides two digits over your clothed slit.
“You’ve put me on the clock here,” he replies between kisses, voice a mere growl, “I don’t think I need much time though, do you? You’re sticky through your pretty panties already.”
He moves his hand to run his knuckle over the damp patch on the fabric, pulling away from the kiss to show off the shiny knuckle between your faces whilst he holds the skirt of your dress in his free hand to keep it from falling down again. He smirks in a self-satisfied manner and your mouth falls open in aroused surprise when he sucks the slick off his digit, “Tienes un coño precioso, mi amor, sabes tan dulce (You’ve got a pretty pussy, my love, you taste so sweet).”
“Lucien,” you breathe.
“That made you say my whole name, huh?” He grins boyishly but he is more filthy than anyone knows.
“Touch me,” you look down between the two of you briefly and then find his gaze again, your eyes becoming heavy as the anticipation settles in the evening air. Without a word, his hand finds its way down between your legs again. You widen your stance slightly, open your legs for him.
Your eyebrows scrunch together when he skims his palm over the soft skin right below your belly button. He teases you for a moment, dipping his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear before letting them remain on top once again. He finds your clit easily despite it being covered - it’s so hard that he cannot miss it - and presses his index- and middle finger on it. He rubs your cunt in torturous circles and suddenly, the whole world seems to close in on you.
You spread your legs as wide as this position will allow you. Lucien chuckles quietly at your desperation, covers your mouth with his own as you pant with each little pulse of pleasure that he beckons from you.
His fingers shift between featherlight touches to just the right amount of pressure, sending you through a rollercoaster of arousal. You know the white cotton underneath his ministrations is see-through by now, messy and wet from the way your whole cunt flutters and clenches in the absence of anything he is willing to give you. You gush every now and then, and he groans into your mouth each time he feels his palm soak.
“Put your fingers in me,” you beg when it becomes especially unbearable but he doesn’t.
“I don’t think you need the whole party to see this pretty pussy, it’s mine,” he mocks your argument from earlier and pecks your lips impossibly soft compared to how he is treating your clit, “You’ll have to make do with what I give you, mi flor (my flower). I don’t care if you start begging me like a wanton little whore.”
“That’s so unfair,” you whimper as the first tells of your orgasm approaches. Lucien notices immediately and pulls his head back a little to watch your blissed-out expression. He circles in on your clit even further to make you cry softly, biting down on your bottom lip so you won’t alert anyone nearby.
“Shut up and come for me,” he is too pleased with himself. He can probably feel your cunt throbbing against his fingers when you finally do, doing a sharp intake of air as pleasure starts flowing through your lower body. You let it wash over yourself, clenching walls pushing more slick out to wet the thin fabric. If you had time, you would have told him to have a peek.
“You are so fucking cheap and easy,” he reminds you with a sleazy grin but you are too lost to coming from his fingers that you fumble for the right retort and decide to say nothing. Instead, you try not to lose your balance as he keeps stroking your oversensitive pussy until you have to grab at his wrist.
He bites at your jaw, stronger than you ever will be, and keeps up his torture over your panties. You are forced to come again less than thirty seconds later, and now, you start to actually cry out to the point where he has to kiss you quiet again.
You cling to him when he finally stops. He is your anchor in this state of mind-altering dopamine rush.
“You don’t even know how hard you make me,” he whispers against your lips, “Should drag you to the bathroom and fuck you stu—“
In the aftermath, two guests, much younger than him, round the corner. They are deep in drunken conversation, all giggly and eager, and appear to be searching for a quiet spot to do the same thing as you have just done. With a rush of adrenaline that clears your mind, you push Lucien away and yank your dress back down, smoothing out the fabric to remove any evidence that it has been crumpled by desperate hands, something that Lucien points out is only visible to your eyes before the intruders are within earshot.
“Oh, sorry,” one of them says as the other kisses their neck. They try to bat the other away with an embarrassed smile, “We didn’t know you were out here.”
Lucien wraps his arm around your waist and leads you away with his cock shamelessly straining against the front of his slacks. He smiles at the couple and they offer their bottle of wine to him as an apology. He takes a swig from it but doesn’t give it back.
“That’s okay, how could you have known?” He begins the lie, “We’ve only been gone for five minutes.”
.
.
.
FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️
#lucien flores#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#the uninvited#pedro pascal characters#lucien flores smut#my writing#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal
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HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH
WHAT IF
What if....
Blunt reader became a harbinger
I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol
I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-
(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)
Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D
Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)
Stars: Harbingers!
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.
Please comment if I missed any. /gen
☆
SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-
I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D
I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!
That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)
☆
u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol
weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright
so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,
and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit
pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)
he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol
he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!
it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”
= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually
and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home
No, you’re not just spoiled.
No, you’re not just pampered.
You are cosseted and coveted.
The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol
And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you
The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,
flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too
needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated
and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,
that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…
in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you
you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀
the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left
(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)
u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)
hard cut back to the rest of the table:
an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)
(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)
ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.
Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too
by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time
u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)
(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)
Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)
she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”
meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock
like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth
the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”
(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )
ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,
Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”
Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶🌫️
You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”
yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here
(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)
(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)
(Capitano won, somehow??)
☆
sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??
anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭
hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D
Safe Travels,
💀♒
If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"
(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit
@kiyomi-uchiha777
#genshin sagau#genshin isekai#sagau#genshin imagines#my asks#aqua asks#genshin impact sagau#genshin x reader#gender neutral reader#genshin impact#genshin sagau isekai#so many tags#when will my suffering end#will i post eldritch part 2 first#or will i post player possessions chp 3 first#who knows#orah my beloved <33
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repertum (pt. 2 - final)
summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k
a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance.
cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)
smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol
please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch
-
As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.
The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.
“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”
You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”
“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”
“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”
“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”
You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.
“Everything all good?”
“Yes! Should we head out then?”
“Very well.”
Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.
Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.
“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”
“Teleporta–”
You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.
“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..
“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.
“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”
“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”
You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”
“Convenient, right?”
“...very.”
-
Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.
By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.
The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.
Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.
And then he became greedy.
Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”
And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.
“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**
Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.
Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.
The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.
Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?
A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.
A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.
It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.
He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.
All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.
The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.
Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.
“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--
The day you return to him.
-
Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.
Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.
But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.
“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.
With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”
“Promise.”
“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.
Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement. “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”
“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.
“Hey!”
“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”
“You were seeing each other?!!”
“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.
You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.
“Well…”
For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.
“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”
“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”
“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”
“Again, not helping.”
“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”
To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”
“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”
“Because I’m easy?”
Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”
“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”
“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”
“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”
It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.
“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”
You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”
Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.
-
A few weeks later
“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”
“You’re not getting out of this.”
“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.
“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”
She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.
You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.
Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.
Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.
Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.
“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”
At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”
“Y-Yes.”
Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”
“Oh, o-okay.”
You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.
But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”
The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.
You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.
But his eyes—
Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.
When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.
You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.
-
Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.
And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.
The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?
Did you even want to see him?
You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.
But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.
And that’s all he needs to move forward.
-
Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.
With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.
His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.
You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face. Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”
He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”
Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.
Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?
Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.
With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”
“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”
You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”
“Ah.”
The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?
His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.
“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”
“It’s baklava.”
For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.
You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”
Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?
So he nods. “That sounds good.”
You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.
“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.
As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.
You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”
“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.
“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.
“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.
You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.
“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?
Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.
The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.
Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.
Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.
With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.
“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”
You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.
“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”
“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”
Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”
You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.
“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”
The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”
“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”
His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?
When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.
“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”
The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”
Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.
Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.
“Use your words.”
Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.
“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.
No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.
When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.
Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?
Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.
When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.
You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.
“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.
“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”
“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”
When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.
He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.
It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.
Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.
When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.
Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.
Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.
The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”
How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.
With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.
You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.
Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.
The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.
You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?
“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.
Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.
The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.
Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–
Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?
Ah.
Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.
He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.
“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”
Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.
“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.
“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”
If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.
Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.
The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.
“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no? “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”
Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”
At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.
Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.
“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”
There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.
“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”
Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.
You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”
At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.
That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.
“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.
To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”
“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.
“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”
You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.
“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.
“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.
“B-but–”
A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?
With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”
It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–
The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.
“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”
You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”
In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.
“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”
Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”
For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.
Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.
“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”
There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”
“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”
“Yes.”
He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.
A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.
Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.
You were made for me.
I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.
“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”
“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”
It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.
“Y/N, look at me.”
A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”
There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.
“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.
If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.
“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”
Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!
“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”
Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”
He pulls out completely, but why?
Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”
And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.
Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.
Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.
“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.
Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”
You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”
The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.
Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.
He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.
-
When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.
But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.
Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.
“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”
The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.
“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.
The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.
Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.
“Do you need help sitting up?”
“No.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.
“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”
You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”
“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”
You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”
With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.
“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”
And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.
fin.
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OTW reprimands & punishes volunteer of color for speaking out against racist practices
If you at all care about the working conditions of OTW volunteers, then you must be made aware of what OTW just did to one of their volunteers of color.
You can view the entire piece here - which I highly encourage you to - as it's the letter sent to volunteer, Dhobi Ki Kutti, as apart of the first steps of Constructive Corrective Action Procedure (CCAP). In effect, it is OTW punishing Kutti for speaking out against the racist practices of OTW towards their own volunteers.
Please read the full letter if you can for the full context. I'll post a few excerpts from the letter + Kutti's response. It should go without saying, but what OTW has sent to Kutti is deeply inappropriate given that Kutti has been speaking out against the racist treatment of their volunteers of color. To reprimand and punish Kutti for speaking out against this is extremely telling of where OTW stands in regards to anti-racist practices, and have shown that they are willing to maintain a space that is hostile towards their volunteers of color for the sake of their white volunteers' and board members' comfort.
For the letter itself, key highlights include:
-Accusing Kutti of publishing confidential internal documents:
Several volunteers have also reached out to us with concerns that you have shared the contents of internal communications publicly in violation of the Wrangling Communication Policy.
As you agreed when joining the Tag Wrangling team, [Link to How_to_talk_about_wrangling_in_public redacted] specifically prohibits the posting of internal communications externally which have not been made available to the public.
"Broad topic discussion is acceptable, but giving specific details or copy/pasting quotes from mailing list e-mails or Slack rooms to public spaces is not. Doing so may be subject to CCAP or immediate dismissal.”
This includes quoting internal conversations or emails directly. It seems that you've been in violation of this policy a number of times over the last month or so in posts where you have made a point of referencing and posting internal communications or quoting conversations externally. The specific incident cited to us in several reports is in regards to the comment you made on this post: https://www.transformativeworks.org/the-otws-commitment-to-safety-responding-to-recent-concerns-about-ao3/
The concerns that have been relayed to us include the way that particular violation of policy has impacted the volunteers' well-being. Your willingness to share internal details publicly has made them feel disconcerted and unsafe. Some have also said that they feel their privacy has been invaded.
-Made volunteers "uncomfortable" for discussing "tense topics" (it's clear that they mean racism)
Additionally, while this is not a policy violation, a number of volunteers have informed us they feel that the way you have repeatedly brought up tense discussions in public rooms has made the work environment unpleasant. While we agree that the issues you’ve highlighted are important, many are things that can’t be addressed quickly, and will require a lot of time and effort from the org. We don’t want you to feel that conversations about change are unwelcome, but we would ask that you be more understanding of the fact that not everyone wants to participate in them. We also want you to understand that the changes you’re asking for require an immense amount of work from volunteers who already have an existing workload.
All in all, these aspects of your behavior of late have generally made other volunteers feel unsafe, stressed, and uncomfortable. It has also made Slack a considerably less pleasant environment for those who have reached out to us, making it more difficult for your fellow volunteers to communicate on the platform, and impacting both their mental well-being and their desire to actively volunteer with the OTW while it continues.
-Actions against Kutti:
Actions:
- Due to an abundance of caution, cease linking to social media posts which may, however unintentionally, link the fannish and real identities of volunteers within the OTW together.
- Do not quote or cut and paste sections of documents, email communications, or internal conversations into external conversations or public forums.
- Do not summarize internal communications for external spaces. Internal communications are not, and should not be, considered material that can be shared elsewhere (even in summary form) if they have not been released publicly by the OTW. The fact that this is something you have been doing consistently over the past month or so is a large part of what is contributing to some of your fellow volunteers feeling unsafe.
- If you wish to ask a question about a particular social media post or comment on a post, and feel it is necessary to link the post or comment for reference, email committee chairs rather than posting in the Slack public rooms.
- Be more cautious about how you link things, and consider whether links to other posts are really necessary when asking your questions.
You will not be welcome to continue to volunteer with the tag wrangling committee if you cannot be considerate and respectful of the needs of your fellow volunteers.
We hope you will take the concerns of your fellow volunteers seriously and adjust your approach going forward to take those concerns and their well-being into account. We also hope you will strive to be respectful of your fellow volunteers’ time and boundaries.
Kutti's response:
-Permission to repost and quote:
I am waiving my right to confidentiality and posting the entirety of the CCAP text below this, so that other volunteers can decide for themselves whether your actions are warranted or not. I also give permission for anyone to share this text and my response to it here, along with my org handle, in any public internet location they wish to disseminate it to.
-Response to the actions taken against them:
For my part, I had not expected the organisation would provide me such a blatant example of racist retaliation, but clearly, I had not set the bar low enough.
I reject the authority of white people in positions of structural power in this organisation to punish me—a volunteer of colour trying to hold you accountable for your structural racism—by intimidating me and placing restrictions regarding my participation in OTW communication channels.
-Regarding the accusations of breaking the confidentiality policy:
I reject a cultist confidentiality policy that denies volunteers any opportunity to provide citations to back up claims of abusive organisational practises. The only quotes I have publicly posted are from official statements made by the Board and Chairs to all volunteers, and I shared them in response to a post where the official organisation statement was denying an accusation of insufficiently protecting its volunteer base. As a member of said volunteer base, I have the right to provide proof of my own experience.
You have accused me of violating the confidentiality policy a number of times, without providing any other citations. Because I have been entirely focussed on demanding accountability within the organisation, it is very easy for me to enumerate any public comments I have made (copies of which I have recorded here: https://dhobikikutti.dreamwidth.org/). If you consider me citing my own words, voiced in internal channels, to be violating my own confidentiality then... you have overstepped, because I gave myself permission to ‘violate’ my own privacy.
-Regarding OTW referring to Kutti's discussions of racism as a "threat" to volunteers:
I reject your framing of my actions as a threat to individual volunteers. Anyone who will look at the history of my comments will understand immediately where the false accusation of me ‘outing’ a volunteer comes from, and can also find the evidence of the volunteer themselves linking the identity in question. I can say much more about the racialised double standards that this accusation is a part of, but it is obvious that you don’t actually think I outed anyone.
Because, as the CCAP makes a point to reiterate, this is cumulative action being taken for everything I have said over the past month. That my comments have made the atmosphere ‘tense’ and ‘unpleasant’. That I have made multiple volunteers feel ‘stressed,’‘disconcerted and unsafe’, to the extent that I have affected their mental well-being. I am not ‘considerate and respectful’ enough to be welcome as a volunteer.
-Regarding Kutti's actions going forward:
I will make no statement of victim impact regarding what my experience as a hypervisible person of colour speaking out against racism in this organisation has been, because I know that you do not care. For the record, I have filed no complaint against any individual volunteer because my focus has always been calling out the institutional patterns of racialised inequity and hostility.
I will continue to document this organisation’s racism till you suspend me, and afterwards. I will always be open to hearing from current and former volunteers of colour, and I will continue to maintain the confidences of people who trusted me.
-Important final words:
The Organisation for Transformative Works has been weaponising its incompetence since its inception to argue that it is not racist, merely hapless. This CCAP is evidence that despite all the issues that plague the official machinery— when it feels a sense of urgency and desperation to lash out at someone, it is, in fact, right up there with the best of liberal white institutions at performing racism masked in policing.
Again: please see the full letter & response.
This is deeply inappropriate behavior on the part of OTW. To the people insisting that if fans of color should volunteer if they want to see/make any substantial change: this is what happens when volunteers of color try to make substantial change to the organization. Their volunteers are already at risk because they don't do a good job of ensuring their safety in a general sense, but their VOCs are at an increased risk of racist harassment within the organization from white volunteers, attacks from people outside of the organization, and apparently from the organization itself!
OTW has made its stance known that it will not support its more vulnerable volunteers, and will side with white volunteers who report VOCs because they feel "threatened" by discussions of racism. Telling FOCs to just volunteer is asking them to be subjected to the same reprimanding and punishment that Kutti has just experienced.
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So... this isn't the first time I've seen people being incredibly mean to a whole section of the phandom. It's the first time in a while I've seen a post this bad in the main "danny phantom" tag, though. I have Thoughts™ that have been stewing for a while. Thoughts™ that shouldn't be put in the tags of someone else's post.
I'm not going to link anything. These are just my thoughts, raised to the forefront by recent posts in the main tag.
TLDR: I have two main Thoughts™:
No matter what you ship, I welcome you to this phandom. The folks who openly despise real people for shipping fictional things do not represent all of phandom. Y'all deserve better than being called shitty names. Your ships do not make you a bad person, and I personally welcome you.
To y'all who keep trying to draw a line in the sand to define who is "degenerate" or whose work is "degenerate": the moment you draw that line, you create a way for others to shove people behind that line. And the folks who usually get shoved behind that line and called "degenerate" are lgbtqia+ folks, and (c)sa survivors. It's happened before on LiveJournal and FFN, and it's happening now, irl, with book bannings across the USA (and especially in Florida). The only way to protect lgbtqia+ folks and (c)sa survivors from this abuse is to not draw a line in the sand at all. Don't call folks "degenerate" for any reason, unless you're ready to have that finger pointed back at you by a larger and more negative movement.
If you desire fuller context, it's below the cut.
First: no matter what you ship, I welcome you to this phandom.
The views of hatred and disgust that pop up in this phandom don't represent all of phandom. No fandom is perfect, and we'll always see some form of the "logic of disgust" from some folks in any fandom. But no matter what you ship, and whether or not I personally ship it, I welcome you. You will find no disgust from me as I am now.
If you dig backwards into my blog, you might find some anti sentiment. My introduction to fandom was first FFN, and then tumblr, back when I was more of a black-and-white thinker. I'm pretty sure I experienced some form of shock when I really started digging in to the Wild West that is fandom. I don't know if I ever expressed this shock online. But none of you deserve to be called "degenerates" over liking whatever fictional content you like. Y'all are a part of phandom, too, and any attempts to erase you or deride you are wrong.
We shouldn't be drawing lines in the sand and throwing people behind those lines. That's dangerous.
Second: to y'all who keep drawing lines in the sand, please consider the broader context around you.
The moment you draw a line in the sand to delineate between you and your group of people, and "them" and their group of "degenerates", people find ways to shove other folks, including you and your folks, behind that line. Historically, both in fandom and outside of fandom, the folks who get shoved ALWAYS include lgbtqia+ folks, and (c)sa survivors. We saw this with the purging of LiveJournal. We saw this with the multiple purges of FanFiction.Net. We haven't seen this with ao3, as far as I know; but their stance seems to be very anti-censorship for fandom-historical reasons.
Outside of fandom, we are seeing this now. I'm doing my senior capstone project on book bans. According to PEN America's data, over the past school year alone, 154 counties in 34 states have banned 1557 books 3362 times overall. Over 40% of those bans come from Florida counties. And much of the "reasoning" behind these bans is the same logic of disgust that fandom applies to "problematic ships": They call it pornographic and pedophilia. They call it harmful and age-inappropriate. They largely target books about lgbtqia+ people and people of color. And this year, they've also targeted "books on physical abuse, health and well-being, and themes of grief and death" - expanding their censorship to "protect the children".
Censorship doesn't protect anyone. Instead, it prevents people from holding genuine conversations with real people about the censored material.
And if you're not ready to have that conversation, that's fine! You do you! But don't create an environment where other people can't have that conversation. That only breeds the sort of black-and-white thinking that leads to 1406 book bannings in the state of Florida.
This is just speculation on my part: but I reckon every single person who supports those bans would love to ban the same content you want censored. And they'd call for you and the content you love to be lumped in with them.
We all deserve better than that. So please stop drawing lines in the sand.
#danny phantom#phandom#fandom#ship and let ship#censorship#book banning#the views of disgust and hate that pop up in phandom don't reflect all of phandom#bib writes#bib speaks#bib work#in queue time is now
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Triple Frontier Write-A-Thon
Hosted by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime
Hello everyone! March 13th of this year is the 5 year anniversary of Triple Frontier, a movie that was underrated but very precious to all of us. To me, it is a comfort movie and something that through fics and fandom has helped me process a lot of things.
Charlie Hunnam announced recently that there is potential for a sequel and he is trying to get it in production and has signed on as a producer. Me and @for-a-longlongtime want to both drum up a little noise and celebrate this media we all love so much!
How it works
Write a fanfiction of Triple Frontier, following the content rules listed below. This is for both art and fanfiction. We encourage you to utilize twitter or instagram if you’d like to share either, and #triplefrontier or #triplefrontier2019 on any site you post on. If you don’t want to make art or write, we encourage you to use social media platforms with the hashtags to help make some noise.
We are highly encouraging LGBT themes and for you to think outside of x f!reader.
All fics that fall under the rules are encouraged, so if you write Santiago Garcia x afab!f!reader, that’s great! But we’d like to take this time to encourage gay/bi pairings, trans readers, or even trans interpretations of the boys. Branch out!
When you post, tag @triplefrontier-anniversary on tumblr and we will reblog it there. We also may reblog onto our main, so consider tagging one or both of us so we know what’s up! Please follow that page to see what other people are writing! In the tags, please tag it triple frontier write a thon, just to make everything easily found.
If you want to post art that tumblr doesn’t allow like nude art, link the content in a tumblr post, like a twitter link, and we’ll reblog that!
If you exclusively write on ao3 or wattpad or other, you can either make a link on a tumblr post and tag us. Other option is to message me (RomanaRose) privately and I’ll make a post and link you and reblog it to the page.
Rules
We will run from March 1st to March 14th. Fics and art posted before or after will not be counted.
This is not a dark event, sorry! Some of us enjoy dark content but wanted to keep this particular event mostly non-dark. That being said, we will allow dub con in the context of mild alcohol use, power dynamics etc. Kidnapping/arranged marriage etc is fine as long as consent is given for anything sexual. Mostly we are looking to avoid non-con/violence. If you have questions, don’t be afraid to reach out to us!
All participants must be 18+, although smut is not required
No incest, including Millercest. None of the usual ‘no’s’, such as underage content apply in addition to no dark.
We have the right to exclude any fic that makes us uncomfortable. It’s our event.
However, we will NOT be excluding people for personal biases, unless it encroaches on our boundaries. I.E. If we have you blocked, please don’t try to enter the event. However, if we’ve had petty beefs or you and one of our mutuals don’t like each other, we generally will include your work. This event is to promote Triple Frontier, not about us.
LGBT themes are highly encouraged, not required.
Tom is allowed. We’re not gonna tell you not to include him if that’s what your little heart desires. However, we highly encourage that your work includes at least one of the usual 4
Leave me alone I love Arrested Development, RIP Carl Weathers.
We hope everyone has fun and this drums up more Triple Frontier fics, in which we are severely lacking!
Remember to reblog and comment to support artists!
Please come to us with any questions!
#triple frontier#santiago garcia#will miller#william miller#triple frontier fanfic#benny miller#ben miller#frankie morales#frankie friday#francisco morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales fanfiction#fishben#ironpope#benjamin miller#santiago pope garcia#santiago garcia x reader#male reader#x reader
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Antianakin's Pro-Jedi Codywan Fic Rec List
The theme of this particular rec list is Codywan fics that specifically are Pro-Jedi ONLY. For the purposes of this rec list, Pro-Jedi means there will be no Jedi getting married or undergoing cultural reforms of any kind, there's no acting like Jedi are totally repressed people who need to be saved from themselves and forced into relationships for their own mental well-being, no Jedi converting to another culture, no Jedi struggling in a relationship because it's "against the Code" etc. You get the idea. Which means I am not including Codywan fics that I do not personally feel are 100% Pro-Jedi even if I like them, and I'm also not including fics that do not feature/center Codywan even if they are pro-Jedi.
Here are the categories:
General Canon: Fics that are either canon compliant or canon divergent.
Non-Jedi AUs: Any AU where Jedi just simply don't exist, so the rules are different in terms of what I'm willing to accept. I realize this is cheating the theme a little, but I tried to keep it to fics where Jedi characters are still treated kindly/fairly within the context of the AU. Also a lot of these fics are just too good not to rec, even if they're a tad off theme.
Smut: Fics that only really have sex as the "plot" and very little else, but not necessarily straight-up porn. This category will include both canon compliant/divergent fics and Non-Jedi AUs.
Helpful terms:
Unfinished: Any fic that is marked as incomplete, or a series marked as incomplete and the fic(s) cannot stand on their own
Ongoing: Any series marked as incomplete, but the fics in it are marked as complete and/or can stand alone as they are
There is absolutely no specific order to this. I tried to group fics from one specific author together, but other than that, I didn't place anything in any specific position for a reason.
Please keep an eye on all ratings and tags for these fics! Some of them are pure fluff, but some of them deal with some VERY heavy topics and themes.
This is NOT an exhaustive list of my favorite Codywan fics, or by ANY means an exhaustive list of good Codywan fics that exist, or of Codywan fics that are Pro-Jedi. If your fic or your favorite fic isn't on this list, please feel free to rec it yourself in the notes, leave a reply or reblog with a link, I'm always happy to read more Codywan fic!
With the house-cleaning out of the way, find the fic recs below!
General Canon:
Pave Your Way With Stones Well Chosen by TrickyTricky (19k): Cody is freed from his chip post Order 66 and works to bring down the Empire and find Obi-Wan and other surviving Jedi/clones. This is the first Codywan fic in my AO3 bookmarks, and therefore probably one of the first I ever read, and it remains incredible. The way Cody reacts to the reveal of the chip is heavy and dark, but it feels very realistic and I love the way it's ultimately handled as well as the development of his relationship to Obi-Wan post Order 66.
Literally ANYTHING by @glimmerglanger but here's a few lot of specific recommendations (EDIT: this AO3 account was deleted several months after I made this list and so all of the links below are now broken. I am leaving this section in regardless, as a record of the incredible work glimmerglanger did and as a reminder of the consequences of online harassment):
Make Your Bed (Lie in It) (58k): Cody and Obi-Wan share a bunk during the war and this changes some things.
But What We Make Series (unfinished, 125.5k, not Anakin friendly): Cody from post-Return of the Jedi travels back in time to just before Order 66 and this changes some things.
Haunt Me, Then (31k, not Anakin friendly): Post Order 66, all the surviving clones can see their Jedi as Force ghosts except Cody and the 212th, and when Cody's chip breaks early he helps start a revolution to gain justice for their Jedi.
sanguine series (157.5k, not Anakin friendly): Obi-Wan is a vampire in an AU where vampires exist in the GFFA and this changes some things.
Deservedly (3k): Cody deals with an admirer in a happy fix-it post Order 66 world.
Worth a Thousand Words (14.5k): Cody sends Obi-Wan a dick pic and Obi-Wan proceeds to make sure the clones get some sex ed in response. Crack taken seriously, mostly.
Once Upon a Dream (31k): Obi-Wan is an ancient Jedi stuck in a cursed sleep who Cody finds during the clone war and is able to see and speak to only in his dreams.
Convergence Zones (115.5k, not Anakin friendly): In a modern day fantasy Jedi AU version of the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan still manages to accidentally stumble upon the clone army and brings the clones and Jedi together to fight back the darkness.
Wrong Side of the Night (6k): Cody and Obi-Wan get into an argument that goes south in a no Order 66 AU and handle it like adults in the aftermath.
(hit me) with your heart (20k): Cody and Obi-Wan enter into a BDSM relationship during the war and this changes some things.
A Treatise on Breaking and Repairs (60k, not Anakin friendly): Anakin captures Obi-Wan shortly after Revenge of the Sith and it goes very badly for Obi-Wan.
There's so many more I didn't include because this one section alone is already long, but I swear please check out the rest of glimmerglanger's fics if you're looking for pro-Jedi Codywan, they're insanely good.
The Crime of Grief Series by @feybarn (ongoing, 34k, not Anakin friendly): Padme goes into labor early while on the way to Mustafar, so neither she nor Obi-Wan ever make it there, and they go on the run with Rex and Ahsoka afterwards instead. Sides are drawn in the aftermath of Anakin's choices that causes friction among them before they can find healing. I go back to this series so often for some good Obi-Wan catharsis.
Slices of Happiness series by @feybarn (unfinished, 40k, not Anakin friendly): A no Order 66 AU where Obi-Wan takes a short sabbatical after the war to handle his mental health and is joined by some of the clones before he returns to the Temple. It is, as the title of the series says, mostly just little slices of stories as the clones and Jedi heal and reconnect after the war. This isn't ALWAYS fluffy, but it's pretty damn close, and I love getting to see Obi-Wan heal and grow in peacetime, and his relationship with Mace and the other Council members is astounding.
The Sun Swings East by @feybarn (33k): Obi-Wan is thrown into a time loop by Palpatine where he keeps coming back to the beginning of Revenge of the Sith. Eventually, the Force steps in and gives him some help in the form of Rex, Cody, and Boil. This one is pretty dark and heavy for a while before it gets better. I love watching Cody and Rex forced to make some really difficult choices as they try to help Obi-Wan without Obi-Wan realizing they're doing so. I also really appreciate the entire long final chapter going through the aftermath of everything that went down.
|to failure, sweet victor| by @cillyscribbles (20k): Cody shows up on Tatooine and Obi-Wan can't QUITE break the chip immediately, but it's halfway broken, so Cody and Obi-Wan just have to wait out the chip breaking itself down enough for Obi-Wan to finish the job and hoping Cody doesn't manage to accidentally kill Obi-Wan before that happens. It's delightfully angsty as the two of them go through this and really highlights the tenacity both of them have as well as their devotion to each other.
|intricate rituals| by @cillyscribbles (9k): After some time on Hoth early during the war, Cody's hands get worn down from the cold. When Obi-Wan notices despite Cody trying to hide it, he receives some unexpected help for the problem and creates a new connection with his Jedi General. Cody's slow realization that perhaps he CAN trust Obi-Wan and the beginnings of him opening up and connecting to Obi-Wan bring me back to this fic over and over again.
|won't you fly away with me| series by @cillyscribbles (ongoing, 40k): Stewjoni have wings AU. Very sweet and fluffy, generally, and we don't have quite enough wingfic in this fandom so this is a rare gem.
|no war to reach you, no bolt to keep you| by @cillyscribbles (6k): Cute fluffy no Order 66 AU where Cody comes over for a visit with Obi-Wan at the Temple. This one's very aroace Codywan friendly, which is why it ALSO is one of my favorites, and quite possibly the closest to how I tend to view them in my head.
|snow on red sands| duology by @cillyscribbles (60k): Boil's chip stops working and he teams up with two other stormtroopers to help the three of them plus a still chipped Cody escape the Empire and get a little help from a suspiciously familiar Rebel along the way. This is probably like 98% pro-Jedi, but there's a little bit of grandstanding on one character's part about Galidraan and a teensy tiny bit of negative commentary on Obi-Wan's choices in the Deception arc. Other than that, very pro-Jedi, especially from the point of view of the clones.
the boat that would row you back by @adiduck (12k): Orpheus and Eurydice INSPIRED AU, post A New Hope. Anakin deactivates Cody's chip after Obi-Wan's death in A New Hope because he believes Cody might be able to somehow bring Obi-Wan back to life. Cody must go through a series of trials in order to reach Obi-Wan. This is obviously predominantly Cody centric as he goes into some sort-of Force afterlife to look for Obi-Wan, but I really really love all the ways Greek myth is woven into the story while still remaining pretty obviously Star Wars-y.
an ice cream covered screaming hyperactive thought by @adiduck (10k): Cody is adopted by a feral tooka kitten in a no Order 66 AU and needs to call Obi-Wan for help. This is pure fluff (literally) and it's so cute.
Reconstruction Corps AU by @cacodaemonia (ongoing, 268.3k): I'm recc'ing the entire series here, even though a LARGE amount of it is not Codywan specific. There's a few other ships within the series, but it focuses fairly heavily on Waxer/Boil. There is some insanely incredible writing for the clones in this, but the Jedi are written very positively as well. I'd also 1000% recommend making sure to go through the series to find the ridiculously beautiful artwork that cacodaemonia does. Cannot recommend caco's work enough, honestly. I will however specifically rec the two fics where Codywan has a bigger presence:
That's not how it happened, this is how it happened (11k): Cody and Obi-Wan find Fives during the Conspiracy Arc instead of Rex and Anakin.
Orbital Decay (5k): No Order 66 AU focusing on Cody and Obi-Wan getting together after things start to settle down a bit.
Golden Shield of Brightness by NerJetii (15k): Soulmate AU where names show up on wrists. Obi-Wan deals with the emotional tribulations his soulmates bring along with all the other emotional tribulations in his life. I don't know what else to say about this one without going wildly detailed into it and giving away everything about it, but I keep going back to it for a dose of seratonin.
When We Were Young by @tired-tatum (34k): No Order 66 AU where Cody's stayed on as the head of the GAR and he and Obi-Wan lose touch with each other for a few years until they're thrown back together on a joint mission and old sparks start flying again. I really liked the characterizations for both Cody and Obi-Wan in this and the actual mission is quite fun to read about, as well. This is one of the few fics I've read where Cody and Obi-Wan DON'T get together either during the war or immediately after it and need to take some time to figure themselves out first, so it's really cool for that alone.
The Vode by @reydjarinkenobi (unfinished, 50k): Arranged marriage AU where Jango helps the clones free themselves and create their own government before the war breaks out, and in order to ensure their legitimacy and safety as a new government, they invoke an old Republic tradition involving an arranged marriage to a Jedi. Obi-Wan is chosen to marry Cody, the new King of the clone government. I really liked the way the relationships developed, especially between Obi-Wan and Cody, and the characterizations all around. It handles what is a morally sticky situation in a way that feels very respectful to both parties.
i've lost the will to carry on (please shine a light to guide me home) by Countryheart (8k): This is an AU where there are no chips, but Order 66 happens anyway. The war ends on the side of the Republic and the clones are freed and go off to explore and inhabit other planets, but while they're gone Palpatine enacts Order 66 by calling upon the citizens of Coruscant to destroy the Jedi. Nobody survives this time, and the clones take it upon themselves to enact justice for their fallen friends. This focuses on a number of different Jedi and clone relationships, not just Cody and Obi-Wan, and while it is VERY Jedi-friendly, it is also very Jedi-sad. This is the fic I read when I want that sweet sweet catharsis.
in our hearts some ancient song by @keensers (40k): Cody and Obi-Wan accidentally find Fives before he can even get to 79's during the Conspiracy arc, which saves Fives' life, the lives of every clone and Jedi, and the fate of the entire galaxy. I love the lore that got added to Jedi history as the parallel for Obi-Wan and Cody's relationship, as well as the way they showcase multiple different relationships important to Obi-Wan that all ultimately come together to help save the galaxy. This is a team effort, and it shows. Cody also gets to be particularly BAMF in this which is always fun.
Beach Party by otherhawk (3k): The 501st and 212th manage to get a few days off and throw a beach party and relax. Short sweet serotonin boost with some really cute scenes between Obi-Wan and his men.
And I Fear Nothing by @maiseey (unfinished, 43k): Ahsoka and Rex rescue Cody post Order 66 and drop him off with Obi-Wan on Tatooine where he's decided to raise both Luke and Leia himself. A few years later, Rex and Ahsoka bring home a few new members of the family and the dynamic in the home begins to change and grow. I really love how we see that the characters' views of themselves are biased sometimes and unreliable, but because we get to switch between different POVs, we get to see the characters through someone else's eyes and see whether their self evaluations truly match up to what they think of themselves. They're all struggling, but they're all also trying so hard to keep moving forward as best they can and support each other. This was also, I believe, one of the first fics I ever read that included the niche character Glitch and while I don't know him very well still, I love him, and the part he plays in this fic is wonderful.
A Different Perspective by Be Creative (5k): Dex's perspective on Obi-Wan, Cody, Codywan, and the clones in general, leading into a happy fix-it no Order 66 AU. I appreciate getting to see a kind outsider perspective on Jedi, clones, and Jedi/clone relationships. Obi-Wan also gets to have relationships with multiple other clones beyond just Cody which I always love getting to see.
Layers by BadWolf36 (1k): Cody watches Obi-Wan put clothes back ON after they have sex and enjoys that almost as much if not equally as much as watching him take them off. I just really like the concept that Cody appreciates the privilege of getting to see Obi-Wan get ready, the implicit implication of how much deeper the relationship goes than sex, and the way sex is shown as not necessarily the most important or most intimate way two people can connect with each other.
they're neutral by @deniigi (10k): AU where the Jedi are basically kicked out of the Republic long before the clone war happens and no one even thinks they exist anymore and those that are found out seem to be persecuted to some degree, so the clones and Jedi have never met each other and have no knowledge of each other. It's set in a post-war time period where Cody has moved into a GFFA suburb and decides to clean it up. In doing so, he accidentally creates a little shrine for the Jedi. It's apparently based on a true story, which is really cool! Cody is in exemplary form here as he fights against The Man and deals with the sudden appearance of the Jedi creating a small haven for themselves in his suburb.
Greater Than Your Hoarded Gold series by Quietbang (96k): Anakin doesn't burn on Mustafar AU where there is a different kind of rebellion in the galaxy post Order 66. This author focused in on and centered the Jewish elements to the Jedi, which is so interesting to read. The shifting perspectives, including totally outside perspectives, on the Jedi and the situation in the galaxy at large, makes for a really cool story with some incredible worldbuilding.
Put Color in Your Cheeks by @dharmaavocado (51k): Cody and Obi-Wan end up with a mental bond and have to deal with the consequences to their friendship now that they're connected more deeply than ever before. This is a fic that was written for a Codywan Bang, I believe, but the ships are TECHNICALLY Rex/Obi-Wan and Cody/Quinlan. The focus, however, IS on Cody and Obi-Wan's relationship and since it was allowed in the Bang, I'm allowing it here because, much like the mods of that Bang, I think it's exceptional and everyone should read it. Cody and Obi-Wan's relationship feels a little different than it normally ends up in the usual Codywan fics, but I LOVE the ways this fic really highlights how profound and important friendships can be, as well. If you're into Rex/Obi-Wan, I will recommend all of dharmaavocado's fics here because they're ridiculously good.
under the wide and starry sky series by @wrennette (44k): Cody is able to resist the chip just enough that he can get a warning out to the other clones, and stops Order 66 from ever happening. I really like the way the Jedi come together on this one and handle the situation that's blown up in front of them. Cody and Obi-Wan's relationship is immensely sweet and tender to behold, but there's a few more niche ships included that are really sweet, as well. Also please check out wrennette's other works, they're all really good!
Lessons of Peace by @virdant-writing (1k): Cody and some other clones learn to make dumplings with Obi-Wan and the Jedi younglings. This is pure fluff in written form, I love just about any fic that allows the clones and Jedi younglings to interact with each other. Virdant's fics focus in on the Asian influences in the Jedi, and I can honestly recommend reading them all.
5 Times the 212th Gave Quinlan a Ride + 1 Time He Gave One to Cody by antonomasia09 (4k): Like most 5+1 fics, the title sort-of tells you everything you need to know here! Quinlan is a character I love but often am wary of reading in fics sometimes because of how often he's used for anti-Jedi sentiments or is just sort-of disrespected in terms of his identity as a Jedi, so it's always a pleasant surprise to find fics featuring him (either gen or in a ship) that don't have that element at all and this is one of them! Plus, Cody/Quinlan/Obi-Wan is such a delightful ship and deserves more love.
when you start anew by @coruscantguard (3k): Cody, Obi-Wan, and Quinlan take a little vacation in a No Order 66 AU and begin a healing process. This fic focuses predominantly on Cody and Cody's feelings in a happier post-war scenario, with more of a side serving of how Obi-Wan and Quinlan might fit into that. I like getting to focus in on Cody's trauma and healing and the way he begins to work through everything that's happened to him.
the time when stars align by qigiined (7k, not Anakin friendly): Cody accidentally adopts some young stormtroopers post Order 66 and escapes with them to the Rebellion after Vader finds a way to "cure" him of his accelerated aging. Cody goes through so much horror in this fic and is still so SO funny with the way he looks at the world and speaks to his loved ones, allowing this fic to still feel sweet and wholesome despite how awful Cody's life can be.
Non-Jedi AUs:
EDIT: As above, all fics by glimmerglanger have been deleted and so all links are broken, but I will continue to leave them on this list as a record of them.
Natural Wonders by @glimmerglanger (56k, not Anakin friendly): Shapeshifter modern AU with nature photographer Cody and park ranger Obi-Wan and a murder mystery they solve together. There's a lot of really great information on Yellowstone National Park in this one, and the mystery is built wonderfully around the really sweet relationship Cody and Obi-Wan build together.
Home (On the Range) by @glimmerglanger (60k): Cowboy AU where Obi-Wan has to take on Qui-Gon's new puppy after he dies and seeks out help from a handsome farmer who teaches puppy behavior classes on the side. This isn't precisely pure fluff, since both Cody and Obi-Wan are going through it a little, but it's not far off. Obi-Wan as a natural horse girl is my kind of Obi-Wan. Cody's relationships to his family are also really interestingly built out as the story delves more into his past.
By the Sea duology by @glimmerglanger (153k): 1940s mermaid AU where Obi-Wan is a veteran of WWII and Cody is an injured stranded merman who washes up outside Obi-Wan's cabin. This one's got some pretty insanely detailed worldbuilding to go along with the achingly beautiful slow burn romance. The first fic is so insulated to Obi-Wan's little cabin and the small area around it as it focuses in on the relationship between Obi-Wan and Cody, and then it just balloons out in the second fic as it explores more of the world beyond the bubble they built for themselves. These two have to fight so hard for their happy ending and get through a lot of obstacles that make the ending so victoriously satisfying.
The Games the Gods Play by @feybarn (7k): Dionysus and Ariadne AU with Cody as Dionysus and Obi-Wan as Ariadne. What can I say, I like my Greek mythology AUs! I'm less familiar with this particular myth, so I'm not sure how closely it sticks to the original story, but Cody's devotion is always a delight to read.
Slow Waters by @brigitttt (47k): Pacific Rim AU. I don't know what more I need to say about this one, it's very very good if you like the overall concept of Pacific Rim, and the sequel really enhances everything I loved about the first fic (unlike the sequel to Pacific Rim the movie which... did not).
From the Garden, Grow by @galateagalvanized (51k): Fantasy AU where Obi-Wan is a mage and Cody is a Knight/bounty hunter whose job is to rescue damsels in distress generally. Cody gets caught up in a world-changing quest with Obi-Wan after mistaking him for a damsel in distress. This one is particularly interesting because it keeps some of the elements of the world being turned against the Jedi through lies and the ways that impacts Cody and Obi-Wan's burgeoning relationship in a way most AUs don't address.
Lessons to be Learned by Assassin of Rome (2k): Shop class teacher Cody is going through a parent/teacher night and meets Obi-Wan, the older brother and guardian of one of his students, Anakin. Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin is, funnily enough, something of the star in this one. Obi-Wan is SUCH a good guardian to his little brother and so ready to defend him and seeing him meet someone who is able to connect with Anakin in a way no one else has makes me feel Obi-Wan's relief almost like it was my own.
bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by @stormwarnings (33k): Modern AU where Cody is a firefighter and Obi-Wan and his family navigate life just before and after Anakin is released from prison. The development of the relationships across the board is what makes this one special in particular. Not just Cody and Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan's relationships with his broken family, the friendships he has with other "Jedi" characters, and the new friendships he builds with Cody's family. The ways they have to work through the traumas left behind by Anakin's choices and how they move forward from that feel really grounded.
Equinox by @wanderingjedihistorian (4k, not Anakin friendly): Hades/Persephone AU with Cody as Hades and Obi-Wan as Persephone. I like me a good Hades/Persephone AU where Obi-Wan and Cody just want to be able to see each other more often and work so hard to make it happen. The Drama in this is excellent, as befits a Greek Mythology AU.
Peace in the Realm by Rosawyn (85k): Fantasy AU where Cody is a Crown Prince and Obi-Wan a mage and nobleman living at the castle. When Anakin makes a really bad political decision by marrying the Queen of a neighboring Kingdom, Cody and Obi-Wan have to deal with the political aftermath to keep things from descending into war. The Cody and Obi-Wan relationship is the star here, I ADORE the way this relationship works and develops through the story, and the ways Obi-Wan still feels like a Jedi and lives by familiar Jedi philosophies despite this being such a different AU.
Darling I Tried to Tell You by johanneb (5k): Modern AU where Cody got set up on a blind date with Obi-Wan that went badly, but he keeps texting Obi-Wan about all of his subsequent terrible blind dates with other people and ends up accidentally falling in love with Obi-Wan along the way. Super fluffy oblivious Cody, this one's hilariously sweet. Obi-Wan is endlessly patient in this and very forgiving of Cody's obliviousness as he slowly figures himself out.
mid-autumn, post script by @cafffine (16k): Modern cowboy AU where Cody is a mule packer and Obi-Wan is the local postman. This is an epistolary narrative told (mostly) via letters Cody sends to Rex. Cody goes on a JOURNEY in this fic and I love the ways this relationship is written and the characterization given to both of them. Cody's Drama goes up against Obi-Wan's Obstinance and sparks fly. I love that Cody actually doesn't even like Obi-Wan initially before he decides to change his mind.
Silver Lining by Wixiany (8k): Modern AU where Obi-Wan crashes into Cody on a skiing trip and they fall in love. It's just as fluffy as it sounds, and the speed at which Cody and Obi-Wan decide they like each other is stupidly cute.
Six Months in a Leaky Boat by @ossidae-passeridae (47k): Mad Max AU/period piece set in 1998 Australia where Cody and Obi-Wan are part of a radio broadcasting group fighting against the government to get vital information out to the public in an apocalyptic era. This person clearly loves this world and put so much thought and effort into worldbuilding and made it an interactive experience as much as they could. Absolutely worth a read even if you don't know anything about Mad Max or Australia in 1998 (like me!).
Thirty-One Sons, Thirteen Moons by sual (33k): Witch AU where Jango got cursed to just keep having sons (as in sons just literally show up at his door in a basket that are somehow biologically his) and it's getting out of hand, so he makes a deal with a witch to break the curse, but Obi-Wan requires a sexy ingredient in order to do it. Cue Cody. The way the sexy part is handled and the slightly sticky morality of it was quite interesting and well-handled. I love how all the magic and the worldbuilding surrounding it are woven into the storyline.
It's Raining, Dear by @cafffine (10k): Modern AU following the first 8 years of Cody and Obi-Wan's marriage through some ups and downs. Very slice of life style story with a lot of really sweet little storylines that flow in and out through the main "plot" of the fic. Cody and Obi-Wan are very devoted to each other, but still feel like a realistic couple that occasionally get frustrated or annoyed with each other or get into fights over important things even if they always make sure to come back together afterwards and handle it like adults. It's not quite fluffy, but it's really feel-good.
Smut:
EDIT: All fics by glimmerglanger have been deleted, so the links won't work, but they will remain on this list anyway.
Best Laid Plans by @glimmerglanger (10k): No Order 66 AU where Cody and Obi-Wan try out a kink that doesn't go well and deal with the aftermath. There's not a lot of fic out there that I've read that deals with someone trying out a new kink and really not liking it, so I found that a really fresh and interesting concept.
Feeling Good by @glimmerglanger (2k): Canon compliant where Obi-Wan gives Cody a massage and a happy ending. Cody getting a massage and a happy ending seems to be a slight theme in the Codywan fandom and I adore it to pieces. Cody deserves all the pleasure he can get.
To the Letter by @glimmerglanger (11k): Canon compliant fuck AND die where Obi-Wan gets dosed with something that means he'll die if he orgasms and makes him basically perpetually aroused, so Cody has to figure out how to keep him from having an orgasm. This is such a cool inversion of the very popular fuck or die trope.
Be Your Love by @glimmerglanger (9k): Modern AU where Cody and Obi-Wan meet at a BDSM club. This one's got an age gap between Obi-Wan and Cody that's focused on as a part of the relationship in a way that's really interesting, and I appreciated the way the BDSM aspect was woven in with the age gap and how the relationship feels really sweet and genuine.
For Everything a Season by @galateagalvanized (6k): M/F Female!Obi-Wan and Male!Cody in a No Order 66 AU where Cody gets to wake her up with the news that "after the war" just officially arrived. This one's one of my faves to come back to because there's a kink introduced in this that, if taken seriously, WOULD go against the Jedi lifestyle and choices that Obi-Wan lives by, but it's handled in a way I really like and feels very respectful.
deep in your marrow by @redminibike1 (3k): Obi-Wan finds Cody after a long difficult campaign and makes Cody feel REALLY good. Again, I just think Cody deserves all of the pleasure he can get, so I love this.
TAGLIST:
@mademoiselle-cookie, @ankahikoibaat
#star wars#codywan#obi-wan kenobi#commander cody#marshal commander cody#fic#fic rec#the clone wars#star wars the clone wars#tcw#swtcw
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Ten Years of HTP: A Celebration
Hi all, I (@eatingcroutons) set up this blog with all sorts of intentions about preparation and promotion and then Life Things Happened, but I'm still hoping to go forward with the idea of encouraging some nostalgia and memory-sharing about the last ten years of the HYDRA Trash Party.
The aim here is to be more of a celebration of community rather than your typical prompt fest - if you're looking for prompts for fanworks you might want to check out the @catws-anniversary that has just kicked off and will run until the 4th of April, or of course refer back to the Trash Meme itself!
So for this blog's purposes, feel free to post informal thoughts and musings and ramblings, and to comment on each other's memories - this is all about our shared history and nostalgia, and the idea is for it to be an open dialogue and celebration of community. A few points on logistics:
Anonymous asks and submission are open on this blog if you'd prefer not to participate under a named account. We all know how hostile certain corners of fandom have become to darkfic and adjacent content.
For all the themes below self-recs are also very welcome, if you want a chance to show off something you made years ago that hasn't gotten much attention in a while!
Go ahead and tag this blog at @tenyearsoftrash for a reblog of anything you post about the below themes!
All that said, here are some suggested themes and ideas to get you thinking and reminiscing:
April 4: Rewatch CA:TWS!
Take yourself right back to where it all began! With too many people across too many timezones we're not going to even try to organise a massive synchronised groupwatch, but maybe you could get a few of your old-school HTP buddies together to do a smaller one? In any case: fire up the movie, relive all the feels, and share any HTP-related thoughts that come (back) to mind after all these years!
April 5: Fanwork Recs
Go back and dig up some links to your favourite HTP fanworks - whether big or small, well-known or niche, what are the works that have really rewritten your brain chemistry, and stuck with you all this time? What was it about them that hit just the right spot? Feel free to share your thoughts on Tumblr - and to go back and drop a nostalgic comment on anything on AO3 😉
April 7: Meta Recs
Over the years there's been a lot of meta associated with HTP, from discussions of what CA:TWS and HYDRA represent in a broader social context, to endless back-and-forth about darkfic's place in fandom. Are there any posts that really made you think, or that remain relevant even now? Is there anything that came out of those meta discussions that has turned out to be particularly prescient, in hindsight?
April 8: HTP Fanon
What are your favourite bits of shared or personal fanon around HTP and its related concepts? Are there any Original Characters you're particularly fond of? Any particular tropes regarding characters or events that you will never get tired or bored of? Any ideas that might seem cracky on the surface but which you are totally into regardless?
April 8: Other Media/Fandoms
We've all had those moments where we've come across something in a new canon and immediately been like, "Oh, this is delicious trash bait," right? What other media has had a "Bucky Barnes Obediently Accepts The Bite Block" moment for you? What other characters might your fellow HTP friends enjoy as interesting targets for Trash Party Shenanigans? In what fandoms have you found yourself running into an awful lot of familiar HTP faces?
April 9: WIP Amnesty
Do you have any HTP fanworks that you never finished, or never got around to starting, for whatever reason? Now's your excuse to talk about them! Feel free to ramble about what your plans would have been, lament why they're never going to happen, or share some of those great ideas you never quite had time to plot out. Or, if you're feeling particularly inspired, go back and actually finish something off!
April 10: HTP Community Memories
To finish off the week let's talk about the community itself! What have been the good times, the interesting times, any times that have been personally significant to you, for any reason? What things have you experienced or shared or understood with or through or because of the HTP community? What new friends have you made over the years, and what old friends do you miss?
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Apologies again for taking some time to getting around to making this post, but hopefully people will still be interested in doing some reminiscing!
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dear megabuild is there like. required ethubs reading out there. posts that are good for ethubs understanding that come to mind maybe. i dont think I could handle a full ethubs phase but my hand is itching for the pencil regardless so I figured I’d ask
so this has been sitting in my inbox for about a week as i try to structure the best recommendations i can but truly the only thing i can come up with is that to understand ethubs you literally just have to watch them. it's hard to explain just how reliant ethubs metaposting and analysis is on an understanding not just of their current dynamic but the dynamic they've shared over 10 years- which is a lot of content and can sound incredibly daunting, but literally.
having said that:
— videowise, obviously the full life series from either perspective but specifically last life. if you don't have the time or don't want to watch a full series, morry's ll ethubs megacut is a lifesaver. i also made a short post with some key ethubs clips a while ago.
— recommending fic here may seem against the spirit of analysis but believe me: wind back the clock and do it again on ao3 as beat by beat dissections of their relationship, though i can't speak to how easy either are to follow without an understanding of the context.
— peter bellshazes our ethubs lord who art in heaven has made a *ton* of posts about them so i would advise checking out their tag for the general life series. for personal recs id say this recent post on their current sl dynamic
— a few misc ones i like- on dead weight, alternating, avoidance, comparing ethubs to homewreckers
— technically not ethubs but i'm going to go ahead and link my required reading tag anyway which only includes like two posts but provide a good context and framework to analysis of the life series as a whole.
basically any of the posts i've linked come from blogs i would trust as Professional Ethubs Analysers so if you go through their tags you'll probably find a ton more. and if anyone has specific episodes or posts that they feel are important or summarise their dynamic please feel free to reblog and link them :) happy ethubsing!
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Sorry, you've probably been asked this many times before.
But what do you do when no one in the fandom interacts positively with your fanfics.
Should I delete and move on.
They're reading the fics. Or someone is reading. The hit count is crazy high, the kudos count is 1 or 2. The fics themselves are not nsfw, not non con, not anything excessively beyond the violence in canon.
What they are, is they're about the supporting characters instead of the main couple.
There's been so many passive aggressive tumblr posts making fun of the canon characters I write for that I've stopped following the tags. There's been so much silence on my fics... I've never quite experienced that in any other fandom. There's a discord server for the fandom frequently mentioned in comments on other posts, that I've been clearly excluded from.
The only instances of interaction I've experienced have been negative. E.g. I included translations in one fic, and then received a public comment on my tumblr post telling me that one glyph in one line in the chapter's footnotes was wrong. Nothing about the writing in the chapter itself of course. Just this abrasive, 'you done fucked up loser' kind of tone.
For context, in my last fandom, my fics were popular. Hundreds of kudos, lovely interactions, fanart made of my OC and sent to me (!!absolutely floored me!!).
The current fandom is a small one, less than 600 fics in total on Ao3.
Do I push on.
Do I delete.
--
Why on earth would you delete?
And why do you assume you've been excluded from some discord instead of merely failing to be invited?
If the hit count is high, sure, maybe someone linked to them from somewhere, but maybe it's a bot or a glitch or who knows what. Even if someone did link and everyone's reading but not kudosing, so what? It probably just means they thought the headers were interesting enough to click on, side characters and all, but the fic didn't grab them.
If you want more interaction, it might make sense to go get into some other fandom for your next fic, but I don't see any reason to destroy what you've made in this one.
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SHURIRI WEEK 2024 MASTERPOST!
* DO NOT SHARE OFF SITE WITHOUT CREDIT *
⇩ READ BELOW ⇩
THEME DAYS/SCHEDULE:
DAY 1 - FLUFF
DAY 2 - ANGST
DAY 3 - "SHURIBBLE" DAY*
DAY 4 - HURT/COMFORT
DAY 5 - CANON COMPLIANT*
DAY 6 - SONG FIC/YOUR CHOICE*
DAY 7 - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)*
****Please note:
“SHURIBBLE”: A DRABBLE (TRAD. 100 WORDS) based on Shuriri. In this context, a written work between 100-500 words MAX. (Name credit to @mybonafidefeelings)
CANON COMPLIANT: One major aspect must be compliant to the MCU/COMIC canon - Aside from Shuriri as a pairing.
SONG FIC: A fanfiction that is based on a song(s). This can be/include the MESSAGE, LYRIC OR VIBE. Must include the SONG TITLE(S) in tags and author's note/description.
ALTERNATE UNIVERSE: Your choice but at least one major aspect must differ from the MCU/COMIC canon - Aside from Shuriri as a pairing.
PROMPTS CHALLENGE! (optional):
Prompts are 100% optional. For an extra challenge, pick some to pair with the theme of the day. Prompts can be combined, reused, or avoided. If you choose to use any prompts, PLEASE NOTE THEM IN THE AUTHORS NOTE/DESCRIPTION *AND* TAGS. Please note that ALL NSFW/18+ content MUST be tagged as such to be reblogged/added to AO3 collection.
NSFW/18+:
CHOKING
EDGING
BREEDING KINK
DIRTY TALK/MOANING
SERVICE TOP *OR* BRATTY BOTTOM
MAKING LOVE
VIBRANIUM STRAP
SFW/SUGGESTIVE:
FIRST KISS
A RING
COOKING/SHOPPING TOGETHER
JEALOUSY
CONFESSION(S)
BREAK UP/MAKE UP
SLEEP TOGETHER
SITUATIONS:
FIRST MISSION TOGETHER/MISSION GONE WRONG
STUCK TOGETHER
FIRST ARGUMENT/BIG ARGUMENT
NEAR DEATH/DEATH
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
PANIC ATTACK/TRAUMA
FREE SPACE
WORDS:
TRUST
STRANGER
TATTOO/BEAUTY MARK/SCAR
ASTROLOGY/ZODIAC SIGNS
“DON’T GO”
SOULMATE
“FUCK YOU”
DEMON
“I GUESS”
MOTHER/FATHER
SUBMISSION RULES:
TO BE REBLOGGED: MENTION @SHURIRIWEEK *AND* TAG THE WORK WITH #SHURIRIWEEK2024. If you don't @ the page, your work will not be reblogged. However, people will still see your work under the tag.
ADD TO AO3 SHURIRI WEEK 2024 COLLECTION: The sub-collection for ShuririWeek2024 is open to all REGISTERED Ao3 accounts (per Ao3 regulations). However, I will remove any work that is NOT TAGGED CORRECTLY/WITHIN EVENT RULES. (Link to collection!)
ACCEPTED WORKS: Fanfiction, Fan Art, Mood Boards, Fan Mixes (playlists etc.), Memes, Meta, Fan Edits, Gif Sets, etc. WORKS IN PROGRESS/TEASERS/SNEAK PEAKS WILL ALSO BE ACCEPTED.
NOT ACCEPTED: Any works that have already been posted on Tumblr/Ao3 prior to JANUARY 28 2024 will NOT be reblogged/added to Ao3 collection for ShuririWeek2024. This even is looking for NEW works.
FANFICTIONS/TEXT POSTS: - Fanfictions can be any length, EXCEPT FOR ON DAY 3. - If you're posting anything longer than 150 words, you MUST use the "Keep Reading" feature.
DEADLINE: Content tagged under/mentioning #SHURIRIWEEK2024 and @shuririweek will be reblogged for up to 7 days AFTER FEBRUARY 3rd (ending Feb. 10 2024). After that, I ask that you wait for the next event to tag work with ShuririWeek. (There will be more events soon!)
SHURIRI MUST BE THE MAIN FOCUS: While other characters/OC's are more than welcome, the main characters/main pairing must be Shuri/Riri. This pairing can be romantic, platonic, sexual, enemies etc.
GIVE CREDIT: You MUST tag/link/give credit to any work/content/aspects that are not your original work. If you do not/if you do not have consent to use it, you will be blocked from the page and banned from submitting to Shuriri Week events in the future.
THEMES/PROMPTS: All work should be within the THEME of the day from the Theme calendar (Check FAQ for more info). Prompts, however, are 100% optional. Please note what theme/prompts your using in your description/authors note *and* tags.
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:
NSFW/18+ CONTENT: NSFW/18+/MDNI/CW/TW: ALL NSFW/SMUT CONTENT MUST BE TAGGED AS SUCH. IT WILL NOT BE REBLOGGED IF IT’S NOT TAGGED AS #NSFW, #MDNI AND/OR #18+.
TAGS/TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS: INCLUDE APPROPRIATE TAGS FOR ALL POTENTIAL TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNINGS. FOR ALL SUBJECT MATTER OR IT WILL NOT BE REBLOGGED/ADDED TO AO3 COLLECTION. I WILL ASK YOU TO REMOVE IT FROM THE TAG. PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT THIS IS TO MAKE SURE THAT THIS EVENT IS ACCESSIBLE TO EVERYONE. (If you miss one that someone would like you to tag, please just edit the tags!)
NO BASHING/BE KIND: If you don't like a submission, don't engage with it. If you don't like a theme/prompt, don't use it. If you don't want to see Shuriri content, unfollow/mute/block the tag/the account. Keep it simple. If you *DO* like something, leave a like/comment/reblog/kudos! Everyone's work deserves to be celebrated.
NO SPAM: Please do not spam the tag/mentions with reposts of your work. This is not fair to other people participating and you will be asked to stop/your work will not be reblogged by the page.
PLEASE BE PATIENT: As of now, there is only ONE admin (@blacksapphhicmaddonna) for this event. Your submission WILL be reblogged by the page ASAP! Until then, others will still be able to see it in the tag!
PLEASE CONTACT THE PAGE OR ADMIN BEFORE REPORTING WORKS OR ISSUES UNDER THE TAG.
ZERO TOLERANCE: RACISM + ANTIBLACKNESS, HOMO/TRANSPHOBIA, MISOGYNY/MISOGYNOIR, COLORISM, TEXTURISM, SEXUAL/SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOR BETWEEN MINORS, ETC. Don't ruin it for everyone by being a weirdo or a bigot.
Still have questions?
Check out the FAQ (Link)
DM the admin @blacksapphhicmaddonna
That's all!
I'm so excited for ShuririWeek 2024 and can't wait to see all the amazing works everyone creates!
For the next event, everyone will be voting for themes and prompts! Stay tuned and enjoy!
Thanks so much for participating! Much love x,
@blacksapphhicmaddonna / @shuririweek
@fandomweeks love your page, pls share when you get a chance💜💜💜💜
edit: sorry about the typo for "breeding kink". it's been changed in the original post text but reblogs may not show it. I haven't changed the graphic yet.
#shuririweek2024#shuririweek#shuri x riri#shuri udaku#riri williams#wakanda forever#mcu#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanart#shuri/riri#iron heart#black panther#black panther wakanda forever#RULES#THEMES#PROMPTS#writing prompt#SHURIRI WEEK 2024 PROMPTS#SHURIRIWEEK2024 THEMES#SHURIRIWEEK2024 RULES
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I Come With Knives Pt6
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
(The other parts of this story are under the First BG3 Masterlist, or you can use the AO3 link to read it there)
This one is my problem child. I have no idea how to write for the other companions but I needed to have this as context for the companions learning about Tav's bg and yeah whatever I've got better stuff coming up. I am very very excited for future chapters >:)
Warnings: self-destructive coping mechanisms (scratching oneself), mentions of slavery, hints of a panic attack, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of biting, possibly OOC companions
Word Count: 1,334
Main Masterlist
First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
I Come With Knives Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
Everyone eyed you warily. You didn’t blame them. After you scrubbed your hands raw of the blood staining them, you provided no explanation. You’d basically sped in, Astarion trailing behind, and ran for a bucket of water. And stayed there. For hours. After the fact, you changed out the water, of course, but they weren’t concerned as much with the pink-tinted water as they were with the frantic nature you scraped the natural dye from your hands.
Astarion didn’t say anything either. A few of them had tried asking, but he smiled tersely and made an excuse that changed each time. “I was too distracted fighting a beast.” “You know how some people get with germs.” “They really hate the color red.” (This one was not said to Karlach, nor in her earshot.)
It all came to a head at dinner, when you’d still provided no explanation. Gale handed out servings silently, staring at you as though studying a new specimen. Lae’zel watched you like a predator trying to defend her territory, prepared for the moment the intruder stepped over the line. Shadowheart barely repressed her scowl.
Wyll set down his bowl pointedly. “Haven’t you kept your secrets hidden long enough?” You raise your eyes from your barely-touched stew. You didn’t quite see him. Your mind lingered on the image of the Gur. “Do you expect us to continue following blindly while we pour our souls out for you?”
You bristled. The image disappeared, tucked away to haunt you later. “No. No, I’m sorry.” You sighed and set your bowl aside. Everyone watched you expectantly, more interested in what you could say than filling their bellies. “It’s just… difficult to talk about.”
“Speak,” Lae’zel encourages roughly. “We will listen.”
Astarion frowns at you. He’s taken to sitting beside you for ‘dinner’. They knew by now he wasn’t suited to eating normal food, but he didn’t quite trust them not to stake him through the heart or cut his head off. It was safest to linger by your side. The irony of your trust in him was not lost on him: You understood him best and you feared him the most. That fear may have dampened over time, but you still flinched at the gleam of his fangs, watched him as he left camp to hunt at night. Yet you’d bared your soul to him and him alone. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
You inhale, slow and shaky. Your hands fiddle in your lap, providing you some sort of distraction. It would not be enough to ground you to reality should the thoughts become too potent.
“I was… am,” you corrected unsurely, “a vampire’s thrall. She… uses me as a blood source. Has used me, for years. I’ve been stuck under her thumb since I was a teenager. It’s… easier to have one consistent source of food than to go out looking for it every night.
“When we were out in the woods,” you nod your head slightly toward Astarion, “there was a Gur. A monster hunter. A-And he said he was looking for a runaway.” Your breaths sharpen into quick, frightened little things. You nearly choke on them. You stare into the fire. Your nails start scratching at your hands. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. “He had nothing to go on, just a name, but I panicked and I- I killed him. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I could have explained everything. I could have paid him off. I could have-”
“Steady on, soldier,” Karlach interrupts. You can’t look at her, can’t draw your eyes away from the flickering flames, but you know she looks worried. It always amazed you how openly she wore her emotions, despite it all. “Take a breath, okay?”
Your nails stop scratching in favor of digging into your skin. You take a breath, slowly let it out, and your nails ease off. You run your fingertips mindlessly over the indents left behind.
You whisper, unable to raise your voice any further. “He said my master is in Berdusk.”
Quiet. Gale spoke up, voicing the awful realization everyone had. “That’s only a few miles from Baldur’s Gate.”
You nod.
“You’re marchin’ right back to her.” Karlach sighs, heavy and empathetic.
You finally lift your eyes from the fire. Everyone’s attention is on you, pitying and remorseful. “I have no choice. I can’t abandon you all just to run away. Especially with these tadpoles. I have no doubts she’ll find me quickly once we reach the city.”
“We could confront her,” Wyll suggests. “Go to Berdusk, face her head on, free you!”
“It’s not some goblin camp we can just walk into and clear out,” you protest. The idea thrills you to no end, but you cannot allow yourself that hope. Not when there is none. You will be found. Tonight, the next, a week from now. You’ll be locked back into your servitude. There is no chance you have to be free. “Killing a vampire lord isn’t- It’s not just-”
Astarion speaks up. You don’t expect it; he’d been so quiet this whole time. “If we can kill Cazador, we can kill Kir Parthene.” Your stomach rolls around at the sound of her name. “What makes facing my master any different from yours?”
You know the answer. Even if you don’t realize it yet, you know.
You have no qualms threatening Cazador. You’ve even told Astarion that you plan to help him kill his master, once and for all. Free him and his ‘siblings’, and rid Baldur’s Gate of the nighttime threat to its people. No longer would they have to go out, lure victims in as food for the vampire lord. It was so easy to promise. If you could help everyone else, why should you leave Astarion to the same fate you faced after this quest? He should be as free as possible from the chains binding him.
So why couldn’t you let them swear the same for you? What made Kir Parthene so different from Cazador? She was not stationed in as large a city, she did not steal souls off the street every night just for a quick meal, she did not personally carve poetry into the flesh of those beneath her. She had power, but no more than Cazador held. So why were you so reluctant to even dream of your freedom?
You were afraid.
Astarion can see the very second you know the answer to his question. Your eyes open a fraction wider, filling with a bottomless dread. Your heart stutters and your breath catches. He’s sure you’re on the verge of tears as you inhale a trembling breath, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, even as your fear squeezes your lungs.
“You won’t have to face her alone.” You turn to look at Shadowheart. “You’ve given us the strength to face our demons. We can help you face yours.”
You want to believe her. Believe all of them as they nod in agreement. Believe they could give you the strength you lacked, support you when you come face-to-face with her once more.
But then you see the deep crimson of her eyes and lips. You feel her nails digging into your skin. The cooing affections that come just after the harsh vitriol. Her teeth digging deep into your neck. How can you have any hope of facing her?
You shake your head and push yourself to your feet so fast Astarion is startled. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about this right now.” You abandon your dinner. It sits, lonely and growing cold, as you step away from the warm glow of the fire and the safety of your companions into the edge of trees surrounding your camp. You don’t go far, just far enough you can’t hear them speaking and they can’t see you collapse against a tree, clutching and clawing at your hands to remove the memories from your mind.
At least they know now.
---
Tag List:
@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup
#fanfic#fanfiction#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldur's gate astarion#baldur's gate tav#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate tav#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#angst#i come with knives
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I’ve received notice that there was a callout on me in the Stanley Parable Creator’s Club server and I would like to address it as I am a bit tired of people talking behind my back. I wasn't contacted by anyone from the server directly about the issue.
The specific accusations were that I openly discussed a fic with NSFW themes to a minor, shared NSFW fic online without properly warning it for minors, and encouraged a self insert ship of one of my Narrator designs with a minor.
These accusations are false, or blown entirely out of proportion. I have never intended to hurt people nor endanger minors and based on screenshots I've received, people have been spreading even more extreme misinformations, like me being a groomer. I want to tell the story with the mentioned earlier things, in hopes to clear up this matter and stop the harassment me and people received.
1) Sharing NSFW Fic Online
I have been informed that I posted a link to my fic, "A broken promise", without a proper warning.
I did put appropriate warning in the tags, however I did forget about archive warnings options and I misjudged that the T rating would suffice. I also had only mentioned the rape in tags and not in the ao3 warning. I will be more careful when publishing work in the future.
I've deleted the links on my posts and privated the work, as I do not want anyone else to get possibly harmed.
2) Filk
I was informed my never written fic was discussed in the discord as well with a completely incorrect premise and I would like to mention the idea to give people more insight into what it actually is supposed to be, despite the fact that it was never actually written.
Filk (Fernator's milk) is based on a joke someone made from another fic of mine, "Bon appetit 1.5 - Chicken soup is served " where Stanley buys milk and pickles, and we called it pilk. Somebody made a joke that this is like a pregnancy craving and I decided that that would make a funny CRACK fic premise. Again, I never have written this fic, and the only place it ever existed was in a series of messages in a private discord.
The whole point of crack fics is that it has a stupid premise. In here, it was one of my Narrator's, Fernator, telling Stanley he would make him pregnant. I know that this sounds like the problem, but that was just a premise.
What really happens in the fic is that Fernator tells Stanley about human reproduction but after that, the majority of the fic is a sfw adventure on how viruses, bacteria, and plants reproduce.
With bacteria, Stanley just gets copied, with viruses, Fernator creates a computer virus and it doesn't work so they move on, and with plant, the title filk comes in which is milk with fern spores in it. It ends up just in Stanley's foot. The end goal was for them to just get the cutout Baby as their child and then, the main fic that I talked about would end. After a while, they would realise they didn't really succeed and would try to make something, pouring filk onto Fernator and creating Pickle Rick.
The accusations of this being a non con confuse me as Stanley is happy to be brought onto this journey and there are no actual sexual activities involved in this not written project.
3) Art with minor
One person was very supportive of one of my Narrators, Jester (they drew him a bit), and even started to call him their husband. Since they're my friend, I wanted to make them happy, so I drew something I deemed wholesome and platonic. They also took my drawing this way.
In my eyes at the time, when I made the art, I never thought of this 'ship' as anything other than admiration for a design.
However, that context got lost when they reposted my art on that server with my permission.
I now see how people could think otherwise and I will be far more wary about this topic in the future.
However, while the announcement didn't use the exact word 'groomer', it highly implied it. I feel wronged for that as I received a lot of harassment in my direct messages.
I would like a statement and an apology from the announcers because their words caused a lot of harm.
4) Conclusion
I want to finish this off with being honest about the mistakes I've made of not properly checking sfw spaces - which started all this - and talking about suggestive matters within them. The fanfiction link was certainly a slip up but I will be more careful in the future of what I post.
However - I also want to say that it's not okay to harass people who got involved in this.
I myself have received false accusations already and seen my work be misinterpreted. I only learnt about this through buds giving me a notice and I do ask, if a similar situation would ever occur, which I don't plan on, to message me directly first about my mistake.
In the future, I will remember to double check where I discuss my fic ideas and I'll do everything in my power for this situation not to repeat.
Thank you for reading.
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