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wonusite · 6 months

Text

Endless Adoration

❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

GENRE: best friends brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

WARNINGS: bestie’s brother!mingyu, virgin!reader, secret pining, suppressed feelings, discourse of how to pronounce caramel, mingyu is the textbook definition of down bad, loss of virginity, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mirror sex, riding, squirting, multiple creampies, cum eating

A/N: this fic is my contribution to the fall season and part of the fall-ing for you collab! hope you all enjoy! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

It’s no secret that Mingyu is an affectionate man.

Acts of service and giving out his affection is his love language, and everyone knows it. Which is why no one really questions his behavior toward you. If he laughs a little too hard at something you said or always comes to your defense even when you’re wrong, it’s not really suspicious because he’s just a kind and gentle guy.

His little sister, however, does not see it that way.

Minseo knows her brother, and while he may be a walking green flag and a gentleman among beasts, he’s not that nice. Vernon argues that it’s only because you two are best friends that Mingyu treats you just a bit better than anyone else. It’s a viable argument, yet the little telltale signs point to Mingyu’s actions being more than common curtesy.

Like now as you’re arguing with Seungkwan during game night about the correct pronunciation of your favorite candy.

“It’s caramel.”

You scoff, eyebrows furrowed defiantly as you glare at Seungkwan. “No. It’s caramel.”

Vernon and Seokmin watch the exchange with amused smiles while Minseo watches her brother. He wears a similar expression, except there’s a subtle emotion in his eyes as he’s looking at you. It’s been there since you slapped down your last two Uno cards in repulsed shock when Seungkwan mispronounced caramel.

Ten minutes later, neither of you are willing to concede to the other and Mingyu still looks like a lovesick puppy.

“In what world is it caramel?” Seungkwan screeches, rising up from his spot on the couch.

“Mingyu.” You call suddenly. “Is it caramel or caramel?”

Two pair of heated eyes look over to him pointedly. The room goes silent as everyone waits for the answer that will possibly get you two to stop arguing. Minseo watches her brother carefully as he puts down his nearly empty beer bottle. The move seems casual, but she knows he does it to distract himself from the fact that you’re practically saying take my side.

“It’s caramel.”

“Ha!” You yell in victory, pointing a smug finger at a sulking Seungkwan. “I told you!”

Your friend’s pout is bitter. “That’s not fair! You only asked Mingyu because you know he’s going to agree with you no matter what!”

It’s true, and the rest of your giggling friends know it. Minseo doesn’t miss her brother’s bashful smile, and it makes her realize that there might actually be something deeper than just a crush. So she waits until all the guests leave to confront her brother about his not-so-subtle behavior.

“Is there something going on with you and Y/N?”

Now, her brother is naturally clumsy and pretty terrible at hiding his feelings, but Minseo didn’t expect him to drop all the board games he was carrying. He scrambles to pick up all the scattered pieces, pointedly looking at the ground and not up at her with a pout like he would’ve usually done.

“I—” He coughs awkwardly as he haphazardly shoves random pieces into the wrong boxes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s almost insulting that he thinks he can hide the truth from her. “I mean that I already know everything. So quit playing, and tell me how long this has been going on.”

Mingyu’s broad shoulders slump in defeat. He should’ve known that Minseo would find out (she had a knack for finding out everything), but he honestly didn’t expect her to find out this soon.

“Fine.” His tone is resigned as he puts the precariously stacked board games on the coffee table. “It’s true that I took Y/N’s virginity, but I swear that I only did it because she asked—”

“You what?”

His sister’s sharp tone makes him pause. Minseo’s mouth is dropped open and her eyes are almost popping out of her head. Belatedly, Mingyu realizes that his little sister is not referring to the favor you had asked him to do weeks ago. An uncomfortable chill goes down his spine.

Fuck.

You were going to kill him.

It’s not Mingyu’s fault.

When you came to him and asked him to teach you how to have sex, he was rendered powerless to your pretty eyes that shined with so much trust. He knows it’s wrong for him to take his little sister’s best friend’s virginity, but ever since you were kids, he’s never been able to tell you no. Years later, nothing has changed.

“Spread them wider, baby.” His voice rasps as his hands go to pry your thighs apart until he’s left with the sight of your glistening cunt.

Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight of your pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your own arousal, and all he’s done is kiss you and mark up a few places on your body. And yet, there’s already a messy web of arousal covering your puffy lips. His groan is deep and almost animalistic when he sees your pretty cunt clenching with need.

Minseo be damned, he was going to absolutely ruin you.

You mewl softly when Mingyu presses his middle and index fingers against your cunt to spread your lips apart. The heat from his fingers feels different from when you touch yourself. It feels so much better, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moans and whimpers from escaping like they want.

Your best friend’s brother has always been unfairly attractive, but he’s never looked hotter to you than he does now, licking his pink lips while looking at your pussy.

Mingyu glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve really never done this before?”

The beefy puppy between your legs thinks he might actually come untouched when you pout at him. That exact look is what got him into this situation in the first place. Your adorable pout always brought him to his knees.

“Gyu.” You whine, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

He loves when you call him that, and it takes everything in him to hold himself back from shoving his cock inside you and fucking you roughly like he wants. That would have to be for another time.

“I’m not, baby.” He assures you before he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “I just need to know how far I should take this.”

The frown you give him is oddly determined. “You said you’d teach me everything.”

Fuck.

Mingyu wonders if you actually know what you’re asking for, but then he has to remind himself that you’re only inexperienced, not stupid. You came to him because you trust him, and he wouldn’t ever betray that trust. If you happened to be uncomfortable with anything, he would stop right away. Though, it seems like you have no intentions of telling him to stop.

The soft moan you let out when Mingyu starts to gently toy with your dripping slit is like music to his ears. He thinks you can’t get any hotter, but then you buck your aching cunt into his hand as if to say get on with it. Ever powerless to your desires, Mingyu slips two fingers past your folds. He curls them experimentally, feeling your warm, wet cunt stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought. Virgin tight.

“Fuck.” His growl is deep and has you clenching down on his fingers. “I need to taste you.”

Arousal is clouding your mind and making you feel drunk. The way Mingyu is looking at you like you’re the thing he’s wanted the most in the world has you gushing all over his fingers. His hot mouth latches on to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. You cry out loudly as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, stretching you out to prepare you for his cock.

“Gyu!” You cry out as you arch you back, grinding your cunt into his face in search of release.

Your moans become broken when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The groans he lets out makes you release more juices into his awaiting mouth. It’s almost embarrassing the way his room is suddenly full of the wet squelching sounds coming from your cunt, but you feel too good to actually care.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mingyu groans into your sopping cunt. “You have the sweetest little cunt.”

All you can focus on is the way his tongue is fucking into you with a force that has you seeing stars. He runs his soft tongue along your aching folds skillfully until all you can do is cry out for him. Mingyu smirks into your folds, fingers slowly massaging deep inside you. The wanton cries you’re letting out make him scissor his fingers so you’ll be prepped enough to take his cock.

When you look down and see Mingyu’s pretty eyes looking up at you with unadulterated desire, the coil building in your stomach abruptly snaps. Mingyu moans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock twitches against the sheets when you keep rocking your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth. With a low groan, he keeps going, using his tongue to fuck you through your orgasm.

You’re a panting mess by the time he pulls away. His chin is covered in your release, and you briefly wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive. Mingyu licks his lips before he smashes them on yours. The taste of your own release makes you moan into his mouth, loving how his lips feel against yours.

You chase his lips when he suddenly pulls away. It’s almost cruel of him to laugh when you whine petulantly after he doesn’t give you what you want. But you can’t truly be mad. Not when it concerns Mingyu.

“Are you ready?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to his throbbing cock. He can’t deny the pleasure it gives him to see you gaping at it. It makes Mingyu think about the face you’ll make when he’s splitting you open.

“It’s...” Huge. You swallow nervously. “Will it fit?”

You can’t take your eyes off his monstrous dick. He’s stroking himself slowly, smearing the precum dribbling from his fat tip all over his veiny length. You can only watch in fascination like you’re in a trance, pussy clenching in desire. The only dicks you’ve ever seen are the ones from porn, but even those don’t compare to how thick and pretty Mingyu’s looks.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” Mingyu licks his lips, mind clouded with a lustful haze. “I’ll make it fit.”

The face you make when he uses your arousal to get his dick wet nearly makes him come right then and there. After years of fucking his fist to the thought of you, he finally has you underneath him looking more irresistible than ever.

“Ready, baby?” The pet name continues to fall from his lips so easily, and it’s making you unreasonably more horny than you already are. “Remember you can tell me to stop anytime.”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation. Instead of being nervous, you’re just eager, and you know it’s because you’re doing this with Mingyu who actually cares about you.

Mingyu shudders in pleasure as he slowly sinks his leaking tip into your tight pussy. Your warm and wet and already gripping him so tightly that he wonders if he’ll come once he gets the rest of cock inside you. The choked gasp of pleasure you let out makes him throb with pride and arousal. Your pretty mouth is dropped open in a silent moan, and he has to swoop down to give you a sweet kiss.

You whimper into his mouth, starting to feel the stretch burn as he continues to slide in deeper. Mingyu pulls away to place tender kisses along your jaw, whispering into your heated skin about how good you’re taking him. A soft moan is pulled from your throat when he rubs gentle circles on your clit. It eases the sting, and soon enough pleasure cancels out the pain.

“G-Gyu.” You mewl as he finally bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. “Fuck. Your cock is so big.”

Your fucked out whine makes his dick throb. Mingyu only offers you a shy chuckle, thumb still working your sensitive clit. Your hot cunt is pulsing and gripping him so tightly that he knows the slightest movement will have him busting inside you. And while that’s one thing he’s dreamed of for a long time, this was about your pleasure not his.

“Like it?” His voice is seductive and not teasing at all which just turns you on more. “Tell me, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

His hips shift, and it makes his cock curve into your sweet spot that makes you arch your back. The moan you let out is louder this time, hips bucking in need. Your arousal is drenching his cock and spilling down to coat his heavy sack.

“Feels so fucking good, Gyu! Please move!” You whimper desperately as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Mingyu moans into your skin, hips moving upon your command. He starts to thrust in and out of your hot cunt with precise yet slow movements. His hands trail up to your bouncing tits, gently caressing and rubbing your hardened nipples. You moan again, turned on by how tenderly he’s touching you.

“Told you we’d make it fit, pretty.” His grin is so attractive that it makes you tighten impossibly and stain his cock with more cream.

Mingyu’s hips start to snap a little more desperately now. His cock seems to swell when he looks down to see how tightly you’re gripping him. Strings of arousal cling to your skin and his as he continues to stretch out your tight little cunt. His heavy balls slap against your ass as you continue to moan in pleasure.

“You’re dripping all over me, babe.” He grunts, feeling like he’s in heaven. “Am I making you feel that good?”

Just like outside the bedroom, Mingyu likes to be praised. Your heart swells with fondness, unable to believe how cute he can be even as he’s splitting you open on his cock. It makes you want to oblige him all the more.

“So fucking good, Gyu.” You moan wantonly as his cock continues to spear into you.

You’re sensitive, mewling and whining in pleasure as he snaps his hips at the perfect speed and intensity. Mingyu lets out a deep groan when your thighs start to quiver. Your eyes are rolling back as his cock keeps slamming against your sweet spot, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“God, you’re pretty.” Mingyu moans as you squeeze his cock tighter. “Prettiest little thing ever.”

Your entire body heats up, and you can’t help but pull him down for a passionate kiss. Mingyu moans into your mouth. His soft lips move against yours with a need that makes you ravenous. You start to meet his thrusts, eager for more of him.

The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room, and you don’t ever want it to end. Mingyu’s mouth, hands, and cock are too addicting for you to ever want anything else. With the way his throbbing dick keeps fucking into you desperately, you’re pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

When he reluctantly pulls away from your sweet lips, he trails wet kisses down to your neck. You moan out his name when you feel him start to mark you up. The ache in his cock grows when he feels your nails dig into his shoulders. Your sensual moans of his name sounds like music to his ears, and he knows he’ll be fucking his hand to the memory often.

Your orgasm is close, the coil in the pit on your stomach on the verge of snapping. All it takes is for his long fingers to smooth over your wet clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud for you to come undone. Your back arches off the mattress as you gush all over his cock with a loud cry of Mingyu’s name.

The erotic and breathtaking sight of you coming on his cock is something that leaves him breathless. It’s all Mingyu needs for his own orgasm to rip through him. He stills with a low groan of your name. You can feel his cock pulsate inside you as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your pussy. The two of you are moaning and whimpering as your walls spasm around his aching cock.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu moans as he rolls his hips to fuck you through both your highs.

You’re whimpering in pleasure, milking him for every last drop of cum he has. The way he fucks it back into you makes you feel delirious with pleasure, and your cunt gets tighter with need at the thought of doing it all over again.

Mingyu holds you close as you both pant—spent and satisfied. He gently coos at you, sweetly caressing your face as he keeps his cum plugged inside you with his still-throbbing cock.

“How was it, baby?” He wonders, big puppy dog eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You wrap your arms around his muscular back, bringing a hand up to gently play with his hair. The gentle hum you let out eases his worries. “You were amazing.”

The smile he gives you is bright and makes your chest jerk with affection. Mingyu gently caresses your body, telling you how good you were for him. It makes you burn for him all over again.

Before you can convince him to fuck you again, he gets up and goes into the bathroom. You watch curiously as he brings back a wet towel. It’s warm against your skin as he starts to clean you up. The act is somehow more intimate than him stuffing you full of cum, but you don’t hate it.

Once he’s done, he gets back into bed with you. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you on top of him. Mingyu caresses your naked back, basking in the feeling of your weight on him. His heart jumps when he feels you start to trace small patterns on his chest.

“Can we do that again?” Your voice is coy, and he really fucking loves it.

“Yes.” He promises. “I’ll order some takeout for us first then we can do it again. Unless you want to do it now.”

You stay silent for a moment before nuzzling your face his sculpted chest. With your eyes closed, you let out a content sigh. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

Mingyu caresses your head with a love stricken smile you can’t see. “Okay.”

In retrospect, Minseo should’ve realized it sooner.

The signs were there—have always been there, apparently. It’s almost embarrassing that it took her so long to realize something was going on. Especially when she thinks back to the annual camping trip that took place a week ago.

It started off like all the other trips, except Mingyu insisted that you drive with him since he wouldn’t subject you to being a third wheel to his sister and Vernon. This was only the start of Mingyu’s unwarranted clinginess toward you. Minseo didn’t think too much of it because no one liked being the third wheel, and her brother always has a way of guilt tripping like no one’s business.

The campground looks beautiful covered in hues of red and yellow. Mingyu has brought along his camera and is already taking pictures and candids of everyone setting up their space. He especially captures some of you taking in the beautiful autumn scenery. You always looked so pretty when you had a look of awe and wonder on your face.

“I didn’t see you taking that many pictures of me.” Seungcheol teases as he peeks at the camera screen Mingyu is smiling fondly at.

His friend’s neck burns, and before he can think to say anything back, your voice grabs his attention. Seungcheol snickers quietly. It’s this simple action that Minseo’s attention again.

“Gyu.” You whine, holding up the tent you brought in frustration. “Help me.”

Her helpful brother goes over to you immediately like a puppy being called by its owner. Minseo should’ve thought more about the way he hands over his prized possession to Seungcheol like it’s nothing. The smitten smile he directs at you doesn’t seem that way to her in the moment, but again—hindsight.

Mingyu’s tone is playful as he asks you what you need. You don’t answer him because in the next second he tells you to follow the instructions in spite of the fact that he’s already starting to put the sticks together to actually lift the tent off the ground. Mingyu goes on to say that you should’ve gotten a smaller, one-person tent instead of a large dome tent big enough to fit five people inside.

“The guy at the store told me it would be easy to set up!” You whine with a frown. “And it’s not my fault the instructions are impossible to understand.”

Mingyu’s laughter is full of affection and adoration. He shakes his head fondly as he continues to build your tent for you. “You need to learn how to do these sorts of things.”

“Why? That’s why I have you.”

Once again, she should’ve thought more about the bashful look on Mingyu’s face and the way his ears and neck turned red. Instead, she chose to make sure that Vernon was setting up their own tent correctly because she had also bought one very similar to yours.

By the time everyone has their tents set up, the sun is starting to set. Mingyu helps Seungcheol start the fire while everyone else helps prepare the snacks and drinks.

The vibe is peaceful as you all settle around the fire. Mingyu claims the spot next to you, and you’re all too happy to have him by your side. It goes unnoticed, but now the image is clear in Minseo’s memories.

“Here.”

You look over to see Mingyu handing you a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow at the end of it. Maybe it’s the way the setting sun hits face or maybe it’s the fact that he was careful not to burn the marshmallow since you didn't like that. Either way your chest throbs with something you’re sure is not appropriate to feel for your best friend’s brother.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You smile at him before you start making your s’mores.

The night progresses like this, with Mingyu roasting your marshmallows and you happily making the s’mores. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s right to keep doing this with him. He’s so sweet and attentive that sometimes this line you’ve drawn gets blurry. The worst part is that you don’t mind if that line isn’t clear because being with Mingyu is like having a cup of hot cocoa when it’s cold—comforting and appealing.

For now, you decide to enjoy the moment. Evaluating feelings and this deep affection you feel would have to wait.

Fall has always been a special time for Mingyu. The leaves always change to beautiful red and golden colors, the weather turns the kind of crisp that’s invigorating, and it’s a time when family gets together. And possibly the most important reason: it’s the season when he met you.

He was only nine years old when you two met. It was a random autumn day meant to uphold the lifetime tradition of his parents taking him and Minseo to the pumpkin patch. Picking out pumpkins was something he looked forward to all year because it was a time where his entire family was together.

Mingyu vividly remembers being caught by surprise when his sister brought along an unexpected guest. She was holding the hand of a girl with a solemn expression that was a great contrast to her own bright one. Minseo cheerfully introduced the unknown girl as her best friend. You had offered him a barley-there wave that had him wondering how his sunshine of a sister could possibly like someone so closed off.

It was a misconception on his part because on the car ride to the pumpkin patch, he realizes his sister couldn’t have found a better friend. Minseo talks possibly more than he does, but you listened to every word attentively, like actually listen. Also, you offered her (and Mingyu after some shy contemplation) the snacks in your bag.

Your overly cautious attitude reminded Mingyu of his cousin’s unfriendly cat. Trying to get you to open up was a challenge, but you slowly started to warm up to him as the evening went on. He truly won you over after he offered to carry the heavy pumpkin you chose. The unsure pout you directed at him was adorable, and his heart just soared when you quietly thanked him.

“Here.” You huffed out, feeling embarrassingly shy as you stuck out your small hand.

Mingyu’s grin soothed the bashfulness. He thanked you for the candy you gave him, claiming that the caramel you put in his hand is his favorite.

Looking back on it, that was the first time you tugged on his heartstrings.

Of course, it was completely innocent back then. There was no way you could’ve known that Mingyu held on to that piece of candy for as long as he could until he forgot it in a pair of pants that his mom threw in the washer. Nor could you have known that as you two got older, it killed him just a little bit every time you referred to him as Minseo’s older brother.

These feelings don’t make sense in his mind, but it all becomes clear to him the fall of his junior year.

Just like all those years ago, you found yourself at the pumpkin patch. Except this time you don’t have either of the Kim siblings by your side. Minseo was hanging out with her almost-boyfriend and of course Mingyu hadn’t joined you two at the pumpkin patch for years now. You weren’t uncomfortable being alone, but it did feel odd picking out a pumpkin without Minseo inspecting it to make sure you picked one suited for carving.

In your lonely search, you meet Lee Chan. He too had been left alone after his friends went off with their respective partners. What you don’t realize is that your resident puppy boy is watching this kindred meeting from afar. Unbeknownst to you, Minseo had texted her older brother asking him to keep you company because she still felt sorry for leaving you alone.

At the time, Mingyu can’t explain why his chest feels strangely heavy. It feels like he can’t approach you despite knowing you wouldn’t be unhappy to see him. So he doesn’t even though it’s arguably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Later that night, his mom helps him come to the conclusion that this icky feeling is none other than petty jealousy.

As a teenage boy who loved his little sister more than anything, this realization was devastating. It was very likely that Minseo would be upset if she ever found out her brother had a crush on her best friend. The fear of what would happen if his feelings ever came to light was the reason Mingyu decided to keep it a secret.

After all, it was just a small, harmless crush.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, this teeny tiny crush soon blossomed into something more intense that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Time goes by, and yet his feelings haven’t gone away even when he starts to date. It makes him feel icky, and most likely the reason why none of his relationships ever last.

When it’s time for him to leave for college, he thinks that maybe he can move on. Only, you never give him that chance.

“Why don’t you ever bring enough clothes?”

It might seem like Mingyu is scolding you, but he’s actually only worried that you seem to value fashion over practicality. Your heart jumps when he takes off the scarf he’s wearing to put it around you, making sure it covers your neck and looks pretty with the outfit you’ve chosen. He doesn’t seem to notice that your eyes shine with endearment as he adjusts it to cover your mouth.

“Come on.” He absentmindedly grabs your hand, not realizing his touch is making your heart pound. “The cafe is only open for another hour.”

Mingyu had insisted that this new cafe had drinks to die for. So he waited until you got off work to go with you together. You’re glad his scarf covers the lower half of your face because you’re sure every single emotion you feel for him would be very obvious as he hands you a warm cup.

Walking in silence with Mingyu isn’t ever uncomfortable, but it does leave you to contemplate how you’re going to confess to him. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, and you hope he won’t be upset at your sudden feelings since you’re the one who insisted the sex between you two would be strictly platonic.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

It kills you that Mingyu can look so pretty while he’s tilting his head at you curiously. You let out a nervous breath. It was now or never.

“You told Minseo you took my virginity.”

The air goes still, and you feel like smacking yourself because that’s not at all what you were planning to say—not like that, anyway. Mingyu’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he feels a blush crawl up his neck and suffuse throughout his face. You don’t seem angry, but he can’t really tell with his scarf covering your face.

“I’m sorry!” He rushes. “I didn’t mean to, but—”

“I’m not mad.” You assure him with a laugh.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You let out a fond laugh. “And Minseo isn’t either.”

Before Mingyu can fully process your words, you crush him with a hug. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and press himself closer to you.

“I like you, Mingyu.” You confess, feeling like your heart is on the verge of exploding. “I like you so much.”

He stills in your arms. Slowly, he pulls away to look at your face. His expression is one of pure shock, and before you can brace yourself for any kind of rejection, Mingyu is kissing you.

The movements of his soft lips are needy and full of undeniable want. You moan into his mouth, returning his kiss with just as much vigor. It all feels like a wonderful dream, especially when you whisper against his lips that you want to go back to your place.

If this is a dream, Mingyu wishes it could go on forever.

Having you kneeled between his parted thighs, worshipping his cock in the exact way he’s shown you how has him coming apart quickly. You’re slobbering all over him, saliva slipping down the sides of his dick to lubricate him.

“Fuck, Gyu. You have the prettiest cock ever.” You gush, entire body hot with arousal and want.

The way he actually blushes as you praise him has your cunt dripping with more juices. You can’t wait to wreck him and have him writhing in pleasure. His cock is throbbing as you continue to lick and stroke him with your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip, licking into the slit which causes him to let out a guttural groan. The moans you let out run through the length of his dick in the most pleasurable way.

Mingyu feels completely fucked out at this point. He can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at sucking his cock. And now, he’s going to be the only man to experience what that pretty little mouth can do.

“Y/N, fuck.” He cries out as his orgasm abruptly hits.

As always, Mingyu looks absolutely breathtaking when he comes. His mouth is dropped open as a pretty blush covers his entire face. Dark eyes are unfocused and dazed as he keeps releasing thick ropes of cum into your mouth. The way you keep pumping and sucking him to squeeze more cum out of him is starting to make him tremble.

You pull off his cock with a satisfied grin. Mingyu’s chest is heaving as you go to straddle him.

“Wait!” He pants out, slowly coming out of his euphoric bliss. “It’s your turn—”

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Mingyu groans when he feels your creamy folds slide over his twitching cock. “But I really want to taste you.”

He’s so cute, you think as your cunt leaks with arousal. You hum in pleasure as you rub your aching cunt over the length of his dick. His fat tip is enveloped between your warm lips every time you grind forward while his heavy sack is slowly getting soaked with your arousal.

“Tell you what, puppy. After you fill me up with your cum I’ll let you eat it out of me, okay?”

You feel his cock throb at your words as your cream covers him entirely. Mingyu nods cutely, and that’s all you need to grab his pulsing cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you tease him by circling his tip against your slick entrance.

Mingyu moans loudly when you sink down. A choked whimper is forced out of him as you take him entirely, puffy lips brushing against his pelvis. His thick veins drag against your hot walls deliciously until his heavy balls are flush against your ass. It’s like all the air is being shoved out of your body to make room for his cock.

“God, Y/N. I need you to move. Please.”

You slowly grind on his cock, juices dripping down to his big balls and making a mess all over him. It’s probably really hard for him not to fuck his cock up into you, and it really turns you on that he’s trying so hard. You can tell he’s on the verge of breaking. Literally you can feel it. His cock keeps throbbing inside you like it’s on the verge of exploding.

“Show me what I’ve taught you, baby.” His voice is sultry and tempting—something you can’t say no to.

Immediately, you start to gyrate your hips. You two moan in sync as your pussy clenches tightly on his cock. Mingyu sucks on his bottom lip, completely beginning to lose his composure. His hands go to your waist, slowly guiding you as his imploring eyes gaze up at you with unmatched desire.

“Fuck, Gyu!” You cry out. “You’re so deep!”

The sound of your pleased cry, Mingyu starts to move his hips to thrust up into you. He groans lowly because it feels like his aching cock is hitting the hilt of your sopping pussy. Your soft hands smooth over his naked torso, crying out his name as you feel every inch of his muscular chest.

“Mmmh, pretty girl.” Mingyu hums in pleasure as his big hands smooth down your body to grab your ass. “Fucking my cock just right. Feels so fucking good.”

When he starts to kiss and suck on your neck as his cock spears into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. You moan his name loudly as you come all over his dick. Loud squelching fills the room as he continues to bounce you on his lap. His thickness is stretching you deliciously, the unmistakable sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass mixing in with your moans of pleasure.

Mingyu fucks into you a few more times before you feel his hot, thick cum spurt inside you. His euphoric moan is as pretty as ever, and you can’t help but move your hips to fuck him through his high.

You sag against him, and it’s silent for a moment until you bring your lips to his ear. “I want more of your cum, puppy.”

That’s how you find yourself on your side with Mingyu behind you. Your back is pressed against his beefy chest as he lifts your leg up to expose your soiled cunt to the cool air. He nuzzled his nose into your neck before he trails it up to your cheek. Your body shivers as his arm breath fans against your ear.

“Watch how your pretty pussy stretches open for me.”

You wonder what he means until his other hand lifts up your chin delicately to look at the full body mirror he bought for you a week ago after you told Minseo you wanted it. His fat cock is teasing your entrance, and the filthy sight makes your cunt flutter in need.

Without a word of warning, Mingyu thrusts his thick dick inside you, heavy sack flush against your creamy cunt. You whine out in pleasure, feeling completely full and stuffed to the brim. It’s impossible to look away from the mirror because you can see how tightly your pussy is gripping him.

Mingyu’s cock throbs inside you as his skin tingles with desire. He starts to thrust slowly. The lewd wet sound coming from your cunt is erotic as it fills your room. You moan again when the hand that isn’t spreading you open comes up to play with one of your tits. The sensations of his cock hitting your sweet spot while his fingers pinch and pull on your erect nipple have you close again.

If you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure Mingyu’s throbbing cock is providing you with, you’d tell him to let you record because the sight of him doing you like this is one you want to remember forever. His thrusts start to pick up as your moans get louder. He’s groaning into your ear as his fat tip slams against your cervix.

Mingyu pounding into you while in this positions feels like he’s tearing your pretty little pussy apart. He messily kisses your jaw as start to tremble in his hold, grunting when you tighten around him once again like you’re trying to milk him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.” Mingyu’s moan is low, but you hear it perfectly. “Sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you whimper out a nearly incoherent agreement. So lost in pleasure, you don’t realize your second orgasm is one thrust away.

“Mingyu!” You moan as your orgasm hits.

Juices spurt out obscenely and cover his entire cock and the sheets bellow you. Mingyu groans as he holds your legs wide open. He keeps fucking your messy cunt as you squirt all over him. All you can make out in your euphoric haze is Mingyu calling you pretty while his twitching cock keeps ramming deep into you.

“Fill me up.” You manage to mewl out as you turn your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

Mingyu moans into your mouth, thrusting into you deeply before he stills. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he floods your sloppy cunt with his cum. You swallow each others moans as he stuffs you full to the point where you can feel it leak out of you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside you is one of your favorite feelings which is why you’re eager to feel it at least one more time.

It’s why Mingyu is quick to put you into a different position, your legs pressed into your chest as he rams his aching cock inside you once again. Your fucked out eyes are the prettiest, and he knows that he’ll never get tired of that stare. He loves how your gaze never loses the affection you feel for him. It makes him feel like you’ll never leave him.

“You feel so good, Gyu.” You whimper as his big cock spears into you.

Mingyu roughly pounds into your ruined cunt, not holding back since he’s determined to fill you up one last time. His cock throbs as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your pretty mewls and whines mix in perfectly with the sound of skin slapping. It only makes him fuck you harder.

His dick forces out an obscene amount of juices from your fluttering pussy. Mingyu is so deep that it almost feels like he’s in your guts. You always feel so full when he fucks you like this, and all you can feel is bolts of euphoria dancing across your skin.

“Come for me, pretty.” Mingyu urges sweetly as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Come all over my cock and cover me with your sweet cream.”

Somehow he feel just as deep from this angle. He keeps railing your tight cunt, splitting you open to fully claim you as his. Your senses go into overdrive when he slips his fingers down to your puffy clit to rub gentle circles. At this point you’re trembling beneath him, all thoughts gone as he thrust harder and deeper inside you.

Mingyu’s eyes are locked on the way your tight pussy swallows his thick cock. The way your cream covers him completely make him more ravenous. He’s hitting your spongy spot with mastered precision, and it only takes a few more thrusts for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Your moan is pornographic as your walls contract and your juices squirt out everywhere. Mingyu’s pace doesn’t falter as you cover him with your orgasm. He groans loudly, loving how you can only seem to chant his name.

“God, you look pretty when you come on my cock. So pretty. Every. Fucking. Time.” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls.

Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around the thickness of his cock. Mingyu slowly releases your legs and goes to give you a passionate kiss. His hips move slowly as he fucks his cum back into you. With one last peck he pulls away and slowly eases his cock out of your messy pussy.

You moan again when he suddenly starts to lap up the mess between your legs. You’re too fucked out to stop him. That, and you did say he could eat his cum out of your pussy after you were done (plus it just feels so fucking good). He licks and sucks on your clit until there’s nothing left to lap up.

When he crawls back up your body, your insides clench at the erotic sight of him licking his lips. “So fucking sweet.”

You pull him down for another kiss. The taste of you two mixed together is so filthy yet so addicting that you have to lick every inch of his mouth. Mingyu pulls you flush against him as he continues to kiss you like he never wants to breath again.

Minutes later, you two are still in your bed, cuddling and unwilling to separate from each other.

“This feels like a dream.” Mingyu sighs into your hair.

You hum, running your finger tips along his biceps. “It’s not a dream. I really do adore you, Kim Mingyu.”

He buries his face in your neck, mumbling into your heated skin that the adoration he has for you is endless.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

#mingyu smut #svt smut #svthub #svthub.collab #kim mingyu smut #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x you #mingyu fic #svt fic #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x you

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navybrat817 · 6 months

Note

It's cold, Navy! What will our florist do about it?

Keep you warm, of course, nonnie.

Snowfall

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You refuse to go outside on a cold day and Bucky is more than happy to keep you warm.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Sugary sweet fluff and love, kissing, established relationship, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?)

A/N: Small ficlet for our florist.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You refused to step outside today. Between the bitter cold and thick snow covering the sidewalks and streets, you were more than content to stay inside and remain warm under a mountain of blankets. The heavy gust of wind that pushed against your home told you that you made the right decision.

Thankfully, Bucky made it back safely from the shop before the snow really started to come down. Anyone else would've appeared frozen to their core after being out in that weather, but he merely flashed you a smile after he shook out his long hair and stomped his boots off by the door. He even managed to keep a flower tucked carefully in his coat for you.

Always thinking of me.

“You know, there’s more than enough snow out there to make a snowman,” he said an hour later as he finished stringing up a set of holiday lights around the living room window, taking a step back to admire his handiwork once he turned them on. “Could be fun.”

You smiled as you set two mugs of hot cocoa on the coffee table. “I mean, we could do that,” you said, wrinkling your nose as he looked at you over his shoulder. “But I think I'd rather stay inside.”

He smiled as he turned to face you with his hands on his hips. Instead of his usual t-shirts or Henleys, he adorned a cozy sweater that made his eyes pop more than usual. Gazing into them was like viewing your own personal winter.

“Why? Too cold out there for your taste?”

You fought a shiver, your body temperature dropping from the mere thought of the outside air touching your skin. “Way too cold.”

“Aww, come on,” he said before he asked in a singsong tone, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

You giggled at his cuteness, but shook your head. “Nope. I’ll freeze,” you said, lifting your chin as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going out there and you can't make me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, guilt crept in. What if Bucky really did want to go outside and make a snowman with you? When was the last time you did that? The two of you hadn't done much for the holidays yet, but you wanted to make the season special and not act like a Grinch.

He deserved better than that.

“What if I ask nicely?” He questioned, his eyes locked with yours as he stuck his lower lip out.

You faltered under his loving gaze and pout. He made you weak. You could admit that to yourself. “Okay, okay. We can go outside,” you relented.

“Really?” He smiled as he gestured behind him. “You’ll go out there?”

“I really will. Because it's you, Bucky,” you replied. If he wanted to go out there, you’d tough it out for him and bury yourself underself the blankets after. “But I'm warning you. I’ll turn into a popsicle if I do and you’ll have to carry me inside. And I demand all the cuddles after.”

“I’ll give as many cuddles as you need,” he promised, his easy smile shifting to a playful smirk, which was enough to make your heart pound against your ribcage. “And I don't mind giving you a few licks to make you melt, Petal.”

“Bucky,” you breathed when he took a step toward you.

Instead of moving closer like you expected, he walked toward your soft, oversized chair. He effortlessly moved it from its usual spot and turned it toward the window before he took a seat. “Come here,” he urged, patting his left thigh twice.

You fought a smile as you went to join him. He reached for your hand once you were close enough and pulled you unceremoniously into his lap, chuckling when you let out a sound of surprise. He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders once you settled into a comfortable position, allowing you to relax completely against him.

“I thought we were going outside,” you said, though you made no effort to move from your spot. Not when he was so firm and warm and smelled like heaven.

“We don't have to do that. I was just teasing,” he assured you, his scruff brushing against your cheek as you sighed and snuggled into him more. He could've said that to make you feel better, but you knew he’d never lie to you. “Why don’t we just enjoy the view instead?”

Your heart filled with unexpected joy as you looked out the window. You couldn't recall the last time you appreciated the allure of winter. Nature didn't need any sort of decoration, but the surrounding lights gave a colorful glow to the glittering snow that fell outside. It was like a silent dance, reminding you that there was beauty all around you.

Being in Bucky’s arms made it all the more special.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky didn't glance at the view. He focused solely on you with a gentle and content gaze, both in awe of your beauty and how he was the lucky man who got to hold you like this. Coming home to you after a long, cold day was the best gift he could ask for.

“Maybe tomorrow we can build a snowman,” you offered after a few minutes, tilting your head to smile at him. Heat flowed to your cheeks when you realized he was staring at you. “If you want.”

“Or we can stay in bed,” he whispered, placing his hand against your cheek in a gentle caress. “Keep each other warm.”

You let out a soft gasp before he pressed his lips against yours. The two of you stayed locked together as the snow continued to fall outside, his mouth leisurely moving against yours. Slow and tender, he practically made love to your mouth.

As soft as the snowfall.

“Love you, Bucky,” you breathed.

“Love you, too, Petal.”

And it was his love and passion that would always keep you warm.

He can keep me warm all night. Love and thanks for reading. 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 6 months

Text

My Top 10 Fics Of 2023

So, because it is the 'wrapped' time of year where everyone looks back on their year through playlists and other types of stats - I thought that I would look back on my year through something completely nonobjective and based on exactly 0 data - my favourite fics I have written this year that are based completely on my personal enjoyment of them.

Last year, I did something similar to this where I counted down the top ten fics based completely on data - how many notes each fic had gotten on tumblr. But most of the posts were shorter fics that I hadn't spent a lot of time working on that I wasn't very proud of. (Like the fact that my current most popular fanfic on my sideblog for fanfiction is the shortest in word count.) So I have decided to go over the fics that are the most popular in my heart - countdown style.

This year I have written 39 different fics and I have written over 395,000 words, and these are my favourite fics that I have written.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Suit - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (2,900 words). One of the most well-rounded fics I have written in such a short word count. And just - look at her.

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (3,400 words). I have never used Death Eaters as the basis for angst in a fic and I had so much fun with it. Plus the kidfic fluff at the end was really fun too.

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (8,100 words). So @holy-minseok made a post about how there isn't enough fics with reader characters that aren't nice and sweet and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Because I have so many fics with rude, toxic readers and this is absolutely one of them. This reader is a Grade A Bitch and that's a huge reason why I had so much fun writing it.

Better Than Sleeping - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (5,300 words). This is some of the best quality smut I have written this year, hands down.

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (8,200 words). I love writing fics based on specific episodes of a show, and this definitely helped to fulfil my whump quota for the year.

Sweet Revenge - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (16,200 words). This is a fic that definitely converted me from a hardcore Abby girl into an Ellie girl. I am very proud of it. (And eventually I became an EllAbs girl, as god intended.)

Free Use Day - Poly!OG!Titans x Fem!Reader (14,300 words). This is probably my most epic and honorable of the honorable mentions. This is the first time in years that I have written such a long pwp, and it's written about some of my ult favs. So I fucking love it. (It came so, so close to making the top ten.)

(Now, onto the top ten.)

The Top Ten:

10. Dreaming Of You - Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Reader (31,300 words)

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship. Nothing except maybe… your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn’t possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right? Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

At first I wasn't even sure if I should put this one on the list, because it's technically a re-post, but I was like fuck it, I make the rules here. And the reason it's at 10 is because technically I wrote most of this in 2021 originally (though it feels like longer ago than that omg), but this year I heavily updated the fic, including writing some new scenes for it that flesh it out very nicely. To me, this is everything a good re-post should be. It cleans up what was already there and amazing about the fic and it enhances it so much.

I loved the concept of this fic from its core, and now I get to be so, so proud of the way I have enhanced it years later. To me, this will always be my core Gar fic (as much as I will always write more for him) - and it is something I am truly, genuinely proud of. If you love Gar and you love smutty fantasies involving him, I highly recommend checking this fic out.

9. No Brainer - Derek Cho x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Mayhem (2017)) (7,100 words)

When the ID-7 Virus, aka the Red Eye Virus hits Towers and Smythe Consulting, it throws the entire office building into chaos. With a mandatory quarantine from the CDC in action, that chaos builds in on itself, and somehow, you, Derek, and Melanie get everything that you want. aka You have something Derek and Melanie need. Derek and Melanie have something you want. You all agree to make an exchange, and everyone ends up more than happy. Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Works to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017.

This is one of my personal favourite fics of mine that I believe very few people following me have ever read. I absolutely love writing fics based on random one-off horror movies - I have way more in my drafts, and one of my goals for 2024 is to complete and post more of them. But one night I was laying in bed and I randomly watched this film because I knew Steven Yeun was in it. I had seen a lot of clips of him covered in blood and yelling, and I found him really hot in those clips, so I knew that I would enjoy the film. And I absolutely fucking did. Not just based on his hotness, but just - the entire film was so, so enjoyable.

Also, the ID-7 Virus, a fictional sickness that lowers your inhibitions (something that is shown in the film to work like sex pollen) is the perfect basis for a fic. So I literally started writing this on my phone before I had even finished watching the film. And I posted it a few days later. I think it's just pure fun. One of my favourite things to write about is a healthy combination of horror and sex, and this is definitely toeing the line perfectly in my opinion. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - watch it, and then come back and read this fic.

8. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (9,600 words)

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free. Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort.

This is a fic that is very close to my heart. Not only is named after a tragically underrated Fall Out Boy B-Side, one of my favourite songs ever, but it is a fic about conquering the abuse of a family member - and when I wrote this, it was coming from a place of the utmost sincerity.

I am someone who has experienced abuse from a family member, and it felt so entirely empowering to write this - to write about someone coming to your rescue so honestly. Someone rescuing you out of pure want, not because it's an obligation or a burden. But because they are compelled by their own morals and they feel that your abuse is a cruel injustice against the world. This and the companion fic I wrote for Abby with a similar storyline are two of the most important fics that I have written this year.

7. Ghosting - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader (3,700 words)

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you. Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I didn't pick at least one of the FNAF fics that I wrote (and two of them ended up on here). With how much it was delayed, it was actually wild to see the FNAF Movie actually come to life before our very eyes, and it was amazing to actually write some fics about it. This is the first time (in a very long time) that I have written pure angst with no sense of fluff at the ending, and it was actually so much fun - it's fun to give into the darker side of a fic, and to write about the most torturous human emotions with absolutely no relief.

Also, I think dying in someone's arms (especially holding your lover or your would-be lover) is such a compelling trope and I loved writing about it. This was so much fun for me to write, and it was something so interesting to explore aside from the usual smut that I write.

6. From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader (3,000 words)

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind. Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

This year, I had another large foray into the Criminal Minds fandom, and I wrote a JJ fic for the first time. And just in general, I am so proud of this fic. I think even for a short fic, it has such a great essence - again, I love setting fics during specific episodes, and I found it so fun to play around with the religious imagery and the religious themes already in this episode, as well as the imagery of rabid dogs.

To me, this is what truly makes fanfiction great - taking details of the canon, chewing them up like bubblegum and then adding something else in to make them your own. I had so much fun writing this fic, 10/10.

5. Love From The Other Side (aka The Golf Club Fic) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (5,600 words)

Abby kills the man that has been haunting your nightmares for years. You find it only fitting to give her a proper reward. Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Set during The Last of Us Part II. (aka - the fic where Abby fucks the reader's pussy with the golf club that she used to kill Joel.)

So, as you will notice with this fic and the next one, 2023 was the year I truly said fuck it. There used to be a time when I was afraid to admit my weirder kinks and fantasies (like, I used to be afraid to even say that I read A/B/O), but then I realized that this is the freak-nasty website. And way too many people are shy. So I must be the one to provide the freak-nasty fics.

This is a fic I had in mind since the very first time I watched TLOU2 gameplay. And originally, it was going to be a simple, purely pornopraphic fic about Abby fucking the reader with the golf club - but as I was writing it, it turned into something that I find oddly beautiful. And (again, just like with the next fic) I find that writing about kinks in long-term relationships, especially the kind of relationships that have come to be co-dependent - it's like writing this toxic, cathartic poetry.

It's writing about two people who need each other but can be so horrible for each other - and it is one of my favourite things to write about because it's so damn interesting. This was a slay, and generally awesome because it was getting out an idea that's been in my head for years.

4. Damn The Man, Save The Empire - Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (6,100 words)

Vanessa has always taken care of you. Since the two of you were kids, she has put her neck on the line for you, and you rarely knew how to return that epic kindness. One night, while both of you are raw and on-edge, the dark cloud of your strange past looming over both of you nearly swallows both of you whole - and once again, Vanessa is right there, taking care of you. (Dark)Dom!Vanessa Shelly x Sub!Gender Neutral Reader. Toxic Co-Dependent Relationship. Smut and Angst. Takes place before the main timeline of the film (features spoilers for the movie).

Again, like I said with the previous fic - this was one of my favourite fics to write because it is so delightfully unhinged. I really enjoy exploring toxic relationships through fiction because - for one, writing healthy, functioning relationships is not always interesting. And there is something so beautifully dark and poetic about writing two people who have grown into each other like twisted tree branches and need each other, but are so bad for each other.

And this year I have been exploring gender neutral smut a lot more. I used to always write fem reader smut as my default, but I have been having a lot of fun with the creativity of writing smut without describing the reader's body in detail. I love coming up with metaphors and describing around the body parts. I find it to be a fun creative challenge. Anyway - this was a lot of fun to write, and I highly recommend it if you enjoy reading darker fics.

3. Lessons For A Genius (Lesson One) - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (17,200 words)

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot. And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on. Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

I feel like it would be a miss to make this list without mentioning a fic that I obsessed over for two weeks straight - a fic that drove me insane in the best way. Of course, there is also the sequel, but I personally prefer the first lesson. This fic has been brewing in my mind for a very long time, because it is painfully obvious to me that Spencer (in the early seasons) is an awkward virgin, and I have always wanted to ruin him.

This fic is a lot of my fantasies brought to life, and I feel like it's a really masterful painting of those fantasies - for once, without overly focusing on the murder mystery aspect of Criminal Minds fanfiction (which I have a tendency to get distracted by). I am really, really proud of this fic, and I know you guys enjoyed it. It is definitely a highlight of my writing this year.

2. Emergency Contact - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (10,500 words)

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

This is a fic I have talked about a lot recently, because I have been working on the sequel. (I was hoping to get the sequel finished and posted before the end of December, but it's gonna be a longer fic, so it's looking like it's gonna be one of the first fics of January instead.) Anyway - to me, this is by far one of my best fics and one of my most important fics of 2023. This was battling for the top spot.

But even if it's second place, I am so incredibly proud of this fic. I think it's beautifully written, I am incredibly proud of the literary references I worked in with The Great Gatsby - especially because I feel like Jason would be the type to read Gatsby and compare himself to someone tragic and doomed like Gatsby (he would soo compare himself to Gatsby, especially because he was also a poor kid who was randomly sponsored by a rich man who saw potential in him). Overall, I just had a very distinct vision when writing the fic, and that vision came to life. And I really, really hope that my vision comes to life in the sequel too.

1. King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (22,400 words)

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter. When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic. Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too. Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

And finally, we get to my favourite fic of the year!!

So, I'm gonna be honest, a huge reason that this fic gets the top slot is because of my nostalgia for Harry Potter. This year was the first time in a long time that I have written Harry Potter fanfiction, and it felt like a reawakening of my soul. I was genuinely happy, and I was spending time enjoying concepts and characters that I have not thought about for a long time.

This fic in particular, I feel like I have been working on it for years in my mind. This fic is a culmination of all my thoughts about these characters, all my time in the Harry Potter fandom, and generally, I am so, so proud of it. I am proud that my love for Harry Potter has come to fruition in this form - a poly smut fic, something that is just so me.

Overall - I had such a great year chasing fic ideas that make me happy, despite the popularity of the characters or the fandoms, and I encourage you guys to spend 2024 doing the same. Cheers!

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #gar logan x reader #emily prentiss x reader #draco malfoy x reader #abby anderson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #mike schmidt x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #vanessa shelly x reader

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 10 months

Text

Exhilaration

⊙ AN: I came out of my cave to write after I got inspired by Jujutsu Kaisen

⊙ Warning: Spoilers for Season 2. Explicit sexual content with degradation. A bit of an age gap of about 2 or 3 years. Senpai Gojo Satoru x Kohai Fem Reader

⊙ Summary: He attained more power than anyone could have ever imagined - to use to better society. So why is his first thought to use it to have you? AKA the fic where Gojo has a near-death experience, develops a superiority complex, and fucks you.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙

Exhilarated.

That was the word to describe the state he was in.

His breath, shaky, due to the sheer excitement coursing through his veins.

His eyes no doubt if he could see himself- the usual brilliance enhanced ten folds over as if his red and blue techniques actualized themselves within the depths of his irises.

He had ascended, no longer a mortal. No longer just a sorcerer. As though the heir of the Gojo clan could just be meer chattel. He would be a pretense for a God-like perfect being. If only God himself could reach the pinnacle of his power now.

Death was the inevitable end but for Gojo it instead became the catalyst of power. Power no being could have realized nor will ever realize.

Speaking of death, he had been just a hair length away from the experience as the former Zenin proceeded to slice and dice him into pieces as if he was just another nameless target.

He would have slaughtered them all. Every single one of those…. Monsters

If it wasn’t for Suguru. He would have. Until their brain matters were indistinguishable from the asphalt rubble.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙

Gojo tilted her head up, his thumb pressed firmly in her mouth.

She gasped, “Ah, senpai.”

Cute, cute Y/N. Why couldn’t he also have her? Out of respect for his best friend, he was contrite to leave the first year alone. Suguru was exasperated with him for trying to mess with another colleague after the last one had gone spectacularly well.

By well he means dead.

He remembered their first meeting well. On seeing him for the first time as if unable to help herself Y/N blurted, “Oh wow, you’re so handsome.” And then proceeded in utter embarrassment to melt into the ground.

He had laughed it off thinking it as no more than a slip of the tongue from a newbie.

But he had made a mistake. By dismissing Y/N he made her uninteresting and therefore assumed her weak.

She would be considered weak simply going by her cursed energy yet the difference between Y/N and weaklings was the self-awareness she had.

She was cognizant of how much energy she had and how much she can afford to use. It made her fascinating to watch.

There was no wasted effort nor cursed energy expended. She saw the problem and figured out how to handle it while keeping her person intact.

Which was why she kept surviving and kept returning mission after mission.

Gojo figured she would succumb sooner or later to a curse. As was the harsh reality of their world.

So, imagine to his surprise when his adorable kohai was still around months later to bask in his handsome face.

He could have had her months ago if he wanted to. At least that’s what he thought. She was aching for it- her eyes persistently seeking him out whenever they happened on each other.

The blessed awareness he had so praised a few moments earlier was also the reason she kept herself safe from him.

It was like she had a rule of ‘you can look but don’t touch.’

His colleagues and friends alike shared the same wariness. But they assumed with him being an ally they were safe. She however was conscious of the fact that no one was truly safe with him.

When Gojo bemoaned shared Y/N’s reluctance with Suguru- his friend in return praised Y/N’s intelligence unlike the ones he lured to his bed.

The same friend whose eyes reflected malice and disgust when faced with the ugliness of the masses.

⊙⊙

He showed up at her door room, unexpectedly hours after the failed mission—his uniform still torn and ragged, caked in his own blood.

“Senpai,” she gasped, reaching out tentatively to grasp his shoulder as if to make sure this was reality and not something from her nightmares. “Are you ok? Should I call Ieiri-senpai?”

He grabbed her hand with his own. Taking a moment to caress her hand and appreciate its softness before kissing it.

Y/N swallowed and squirmed, uncomfortable at the show of affection.

“I’m fine. In fact, I’ve never felt so better in my life.”

Tugging her hand, Gojo pulled her into his embrace.

“Except for the moments when you’re with me.”

That line would have gotten a blush from anyone else but Y/N only stared at him contemplatively.

He ignored her unspoken inquisition to lightly press his thumb against her bottom lip. Whatever momentary conflict that was brewing within her was pushed aside as he felt her teeth nip at his thumb before licking it in consolation.

Taking the action as permission, he pressed his thumb into her mouth.

She whimpered, cowed by his dominance.

Gojo glanced down and noticed her aroused nipples poking through her soft cotton t-shirt which she had worn to bed no doubt.

He tweaked it with his other hand, invoking a groan- and reached down to grab the hem of her shirt to pull it over.

Perhaps he was mentally unprepared to see her full tits look so invitingly captivating. Gojo couldn’t help himself when he maneuvered her cunt to grind on his thigh while at the same time reaching down to suck.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as Y/N without any further prompting started to writhe and grind on his thighs.

Arousal seemed to permeate through their skin. Egging each other on concurrently.

Gojo smiled widely almost a bit deranged-like at the sight of Y/N helping him pull her shirt off completely.

He pushed her to the ground and slid the boy shorts she had on until it pooled around her knees loosely.

He admired the curvature of her spine, giving quick kisses along the way until he was met with the sight of her cunt being exposed from her kneeling.

She wasn’t quite wet yet. He wasn’t disappointed though he could change that quite easily.

Gojo took his time, preparing her one finger at a time. While keeping her mouth occupied with his own, his hands in her hair allowed him to control the pace of their kiss.

Only when he could hear the wet sounds as his fingers entered back and forth did he give her a reprieve.

Relieving himself of his pants, Gojo placed himself over her. He lined his member at her entrance and then pushed slowly.

He let out a low groan and closed his eyes. She was squeezing him tightly almost like she wanted to push him back out. A shiver of pleasure goes down his spine.

“Ah!,” she cried out. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Gojo picked up his pace and basically started shoving himself inside her. A resounding sound of flesh slapping against another became evident along with the muffled screams of Y/N as she in vain tried to suppress as she bit down on her finger.

“You’re so filthy, Y/N. Aren’t you a virgin? Letting yourself be taken in this way for your first time,” he leaned over and rasped into her ear.

He hadn’t imagined fucking her doggy style right at the entrance of her dorm room.

Just like Fushigoro Toji hadn’t imagined being killed by the brat he thought he had already finished off. But life makes exceptions for Gojo Satoru.

At that moment he bites down on her shoulder as he feels pleasure takeover his mind. He did have the foresight to pull out and spill down the juncture of her thighs.

There was sick satisfaction from watching his essence coat her cunt and thighs.

Y/N slumped from exhaustion and turned on her back to watch him.

Her cheeks flushed and hair mussed, Y/N had never looked so beautiful to him.

Feeling the sting of want bubble up in his stomach again, Gojo bit the inside of her thigh and settle himself nicely in between her legs.

He would remake the very foundations of their world. Recreate and shape the world as he saw fit. As was his right. And in his world- the rules, the tradition, and the elders would be no more than a relic of the past. In this same world, he would take what he wanted without any hesitation and right the wrongs no one ever could.

In this world, he would never hesitate to have and keep Y/N. Fearing one day she too would be gone from a curse.

And now he had the means to make it a reality.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x oc #gojo satoru x you #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #gojo satoru

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miyaur · 1 year

Note

hii, may I request kitten anemo boys with afab reader? like.. smut, please? 😁

𝄞 — xiao, aether (afab/fem reader) — ❝ my sweet sweet kitty ❞

summary: in heat season, obviously cats start to crave sex a little more, sweatier than usual, hazier vision, and hard 24/7, but your kitty knows better than to disobey you, but why did you have to work late now when he needed you the moost.. he can't help it :(

a/n: no this isn't another part of 'be a good kitty and take it', well atleast not right now, edit: i almost forgot to feed you guys

warnings: nsfw, dom!reader, sub!character

kitty!xiao has a hard time without you especially when he's in heat. did you have to seriously work late tonight? can't you just say you're sick and spend the rest of his heat days with him? he knows he can't touch himself, but he really needs it..

tonight, coming home a little later than usual, xiao clings onto to you like it's life or death, kissing and smothering you in his scent, but his small whimpers whenever he lightly humps your leg don't go disregarded.

"baby, something wrong?" you ask making him face you, face flushed and eyes closed, moaning a little while at it. "n-nothing.. can we just go to sleep?" he asked dragging you upstairs, "you sure-" "yeah! i'm fine everything's okay." he said in a hurry.

all night he couldn't sleep, not without thinking of you stroking him, your pretty face right beside him, he couldn't help but love the idea of you sucking him off, he does really need it.

once you set off again, xiao can't help but touch himself, you won't mind this one time, you weren't there so, maybe you won't be mad! but he seriously can't get off to anything that isn't you, or atleast if it doesnt have your scent!

your pillow for example! it wouldn't hurt to try.. right? he knows you'll get angry and punish him, but that also turns him on. plus getting caught and punished by you didn't sound so bad..

rubbing his cock on the pillow and inhaling you smell made him drool, waves of lust overtaking him, moaning your name loudly. slowly precum drips from his dick, whispering to himself on how close he was to finishing

"having fun, sweetheart?" he gasped looking back to you, leaning on the doorframe. "i- i'm sorry! i couldn't-" you shush him, lying him down on his back on the bed. rubbing his cock, "fuckfuck p-please ahn-", paying him no mind you slowly insert yourself ontop of him,

"oh my sweet sweet kitty, i've been neglecting you a bit haven't i?"

kitty!aether didn't know how he ended up in this situation, neither do you, but you're glad it happened. unlike other kitties, he follows all your rules, will not hesitate to follow orders, breedable, is actually not a brat, yk all that nice stuff.

you don't have favorites, but he is a very good boy for you, but as good of a boy he is, he's equally as horny. anything you do to him during sex he drools for, and i mean DROOL for. he just really loves you and what you do to him, both literally, and sexually

pinch his nipples, cover him in love bites so everyone knows who he belongs to, spank him, talk dirty to him while rubbing him through his thin pants, and he'll cum in minutes! but.. well this cycle really made him feel needy. more than usual, this time he couldn't wait for you to come home

touching himself and toying with his nipples, vibrator in his ass, with one of your belongings in hand, made him more lustful by the second. biting on his lips to muffle his sweet moans, all he could do was imagine it was your hand instead. not realizing someone else's hand is stroking himself, it was you, finally being home, kissing him on the forehead, "my sweet sweet kitty, i'm sorry for not being here to help out, now let mommy treat you better." haha i like the word mommy, been fr waiting my whole life to use it in a fic, AND WHY WAS I STRUGGLING TO WRITE FOR AFAB READER SO BADLY <;/3

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crinkled-emotions · 3 months

Note

If you are taking prompts for buddie. Could you do one where Buck is sick maybe with food poisoning from the whumperil lists and Eddie ties care of him. If you don't like that prompt maye use the one "I think I need to sit down" for buck. Have eddie catch him and slowly lower him down.

If you arnet taking prompts that's ok! Thank.

Hehehehe anon I hope you're still here bc I'm BACK to be a menace to the 9-1-1 fandom (be completely ignored) and yet they can't get rid of me!)

I started a rewatch so I'd be ready for season 7 then I remembered it won't be (legally) available in Australia for ages... and kept watching anyway bc it's been so long since I did a complete rewatch from s1 e1. It's been SUCH a treat.

I've also got a friend watching for the first time and their excitement is reminding me so much of the first time I saw this bunch of adults in firefighter uniforms and went oh.

Anywho- on to the fic!

"Eddie, hold up!"

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he spotted Bobby jogging down the stairs.

"What's up, Cap?"

"I know you're going home but I was hoping you could check on Buck. He just called out and I need to organise someone to cover him."

Eddie paused, brows furrowed.

"Did he say why?"

"I was hoping he'd told you."

That reminded Eddie- he hadn't heard from Buck all shift which was very unusual. He shifted his bag to his other shoulder and reached into his back pocket for his phone, checking his messages.

"I've got nothing, but I'll let you know what I find."

"Thanks Eddie."

Bobby squeezed his arm then headed back upstairs, calling out goodbye to Hen, Chim and Ravi who were also going home after a long 24 hours. Eddie also waved at them, sending a quick text to Buck to warn him he was stopping by. He was hoping Buck had a minor cold but something told him to stop by a pharmacy on his way over just in case.

One visit to CVS later and Eddie was letting himself into Buck's apartment, plastic bag in hand. The apartment was eerily quiet as he stepped inside, unusual because even if he was upstairs for a moment Buck usually had the TV in the living room playing for background noise. Eddie dumped the plastic bag and double checked the living area for signs of life, poked his head into the downstairs bathroom, and then took the steps to the mezzanine level. His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he took in the rumpled blankets, the empty water bottles strewn throughout the room, and Buck-

Buck.

"What happened to you?"

Eddie knelt by the Buck-shaped figure in bed, finding his shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

"Ugh, Eddie no, don't. I'll puke again."

"Again?"

Buck groaned, turning his head. Blue eyes met brown and Eddie put the back of his hand to Buck's forehead.

"You're a little warm. How long have you been puking?"

"What time is it?"

"Nearly 1pm."

"Almost twelve hours."

Buck leaned into Eddie's touch, eyes fluttering shut into a grimace when Eddie pulled the blankets off.

"C'mon, sit up. Let me get a better look."

Unwillingly Buck did as asked, leaning against the headboard.

"Does anything else hurt?"

"My head and my stomach; I think I ate something bad."

"Wait here."

Eddie hefted himself back up, rounding the bed to go back downstairs. Buck huffed, swiping at his eyes.

"Not like I can go anywhere!"

He grumbled, playing with a loose thread on his boxers.

"Not without puking at least."

He glanced up when he heard footsteps on the stairs and Eddie reappeared, plastic CVS bag in hand.

"What are you doing?" Buck asked, watching Eddie dump it on the end of the bed and rifle through it for a moment.

"I got you something... aha!"

He produced a bottle of Pedialyte and a plastic cup he must have grabbed from downstairs, pouring a serving of the liquid and then handing it to Buck.

"Bottoms up."

"Eddie," Buck groaned, "I-"

"-I know, you're really nauseous. Just trust me."

Eddie's never led him astray before and he's not likely to start now. Not after everything. Not after last summer.

Eddie still gets a funny look on his face when Buck brings up that random Friday morning kiss. It's not regret, it's never regret, just... well. Buck's not really sure. He's never seen Eddie like that.

He downed the Pedialyte.

The nausea reached its peak a few minutes later and it was only Eddie's quick dad/medic responses that got the trash can under Buck's chin in time. He'd been sitting on the other side of the bed, flicking through the channels to find something to watch considering it was almost 2pm. The minute Buck scrambled to sit up again after being asleep for almost an hour Eddie had grabbed the trash can and handed it to him with lightning fast reflexes, instinctively rubbing Buck's back. When Buck resurfaced Eddie handed him a tissue, switching that for the soiled bin liner.

"Here. You- uh."

"Thanks."

Buck's voice was hoarse as he wiped himself off, cheeks flushed a gentle pink. Whether that was from the fever, the humiliation of throwing up in front of his crush or a combination of both he wasn't willing to think too hard about. Eddie hefted himself off the bed, taking the trash can from his hands.

"Back in a sec."

He headed for the ensuite and Buck listened to the toilet flush then the sink run, hand slapping out to reach for his water bottle Eddie had kindly refilled earlier. A couple sips settled without issue in his stomach and he adjusted when Eddie reappeared, placing the bin back down beside Buck before flopping on to the bed with him and reaching into his back pocket for his phone.

"Chris said they're starting Earth Sciences this week," he said absentmindedly as he replied to whatever was going on then tossed his phone on to the bedside table and glanced over at Buck.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm gonna sue them," Buck complained pitfully as he lay back down, burying his head into his pillow. Eddie snorted.

"Careful Buck, remember last time you did that?"

An eye opened, the blue a stark contrast against the dark sheets, but then Buck smiled.

"I'll sue you too Eddie Diaz."

Eddie rolled his eyes as he swatted at Buck's shoulder, grabbing the remote again.

"Sure you will, man. Now what do you want to watch?"

Buck hummed, scrubbing at his eyes.

"Mmmmm... nothing food related."

Eddie flicked past an old rerun of Martha Stewart, nodding.

"Of course."

The clock struck five and Eddie carefully extracted himself from where Buck had somehow managed to curl up with his head on Eddie's thigh and was having another sick nap. He checked his phone and saw the notification that the food was almost there so he went into the kitchen and grabbed bowls. He heard someone knock on the door and went over to take the food from the delivery guy, thanking him as he carried it back to the kitchen island. In a couple minutes he had Buck's broth in a bowl and warm, his own stir fry hot and begging to be eaten. Considering Eddie had just come off a 24 hour shift when he headed to "check" on Buck, the food was very welcome and he took a couple bites for himself before sneaking upstairs to check on Buck. He was still asleep and for the first time since Eddie had barged into his apartment, he didn't look like he was uncomfortable. A part of Eddie felt cruel for waking him but the other part of him, the medic part, knew Buck needed something in his stomach that wasn't Pedialyte or water.

"Hey, Buck, come eat something," he called up the stairs. Eddie heard Buck groan followed by the sound of him trying to get out of bed.

"Eddie I'm dying," he groaned. Eddie rolled his eyes.

"You're clearly feeling better if you're complaining about dying. C'mon, come down here."

Sure enough, Buck made his way downstairs in a pair of athletic shorts and a shirt just as Eddie tossed a spoon down on the table beside the bowl. He collapsed into the seat in front of the soup, one eye on the downstairs bathroom door.

"Try and keep that down then we can talk about something solid."

"Thanks, Eds."

Buck picked up the spoon and tentatively worked on getting the soup down; Eddie joined him after a minute and practically chewed through his stir fry without even thinking about it. Nothing could ever be as good as Bobby's-

Oh, that's what he forgot.

Bobby: is everything okay?

Bobby: Eddie?

Eddie: sorry Bobby I completely forgot

Eddie: he's got food poisoning but he's already coming out the other side

Bobby: I figured you'd call if there were issues. Thanks Eddie

Buck, sitting beside Eddie working on his soup, raised an eyebrow as Eddie put his phone down.

"What's Chris up to?"

"Hopefully not begging Carla for a second serving of ice cream. No; that was Bobby. He was worried when you called in."

Buck frowned; Eddie could see where his mind was going and touched his shoulder.

"I would have come to check on you if I'd known even if he didn't ask. You don't call out of work unless you're contagious or it's serious."

Buck pushed away the soup, elbow on the table so he could rest his head on his hand. Eddie reached over to check him for a fever again.

"How do you feel?" He asked. Buck made the so-so motion.

"My head hurts."

"Go lie on the couch; I'll change your sheets so you can go to bed."

"Eddie no, you don't have to-"

"-Buck, it's clean sheets; not a marriage proposal."

Buck's mouth twitched upward into a smile; Eddie squeezed his shoulder and left the table to go upstairs. Buck watched after him with a warm feeling in his stomach.

It wasn't nausea.

When Buck stirred the next morning he paused, grimacing to take stock of the situation. His head was down to a gentle (irritating) throb against his temples but his stomach was staying put for the time being. The sheets were still tucked over him and he yawned into his hand, rolling over and tossing an arm over his bed mate-

Wait.

Cracking his eyes open Buck took stock of the situation. He knew he'd been sick again sometime overnight, barely able to remember tossing cookies (soup) because it had come out of nowhere in his doze. Part of him remembered Eddie being there, a figure in the darkness and he'd-

He'd stayed.

"Eddie," Buck whispered. Eddie cracked an eye open and reached his arm out, brushing a thumb over Buck's cheek.

"You look better," he rasped. Buck hummed.

"You didn't have to stay."

"Hm, well, maybe I wanted to."

Buck's eyes fluttered shut as he revelled in the feeling of Eddie's thumb on his cheek. When Eddie was half asleep he could be incredibly tactile and Buck lived for when he got to see Eddie like that.

"No one needs to see-"

"-Buck. I want to know when you're sick, or you're hurting. Whatever it is."

Buck's cheeks flushed and he buried his face back against his pillow. Eddie's hand moved to the back of his neck, brushing through the ends of his hair like it was something he did all the time.

"Thanks for coming, Eddie."

"Sure."

Eddie gently squeezed Buck's shoulder.

It felt like coming home.

#9-1-1 #911 #911 on ABC #911onabc #Evan Buckley #Buck #Eddie Diaz #Buddie #Sickfic #Hurt/comfort #Fluff

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kmomof4 · 13 days

Text

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 2

We are back with a new chapter!! Y'all!!!!! I am BLOWN AWAY by your enthusiasm for this fic!!!! Thank you all so very VERY much!!!! I hope you enjoy this new chapter and let me know what you think!!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 for her beta services and to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for listening to me whine. And I can't forget @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork she did for the fic!!! Thank you all, ladies!!!

Chapter summary: Four years after Liam's death and Killian runs away to India, Emma and Killian both arrive in London for the new social season.

Words: Approx 7800 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chs.

On ao3 Current ch / From the beginning

On Tumblr Prologue

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

4yrs. later

It had been too long. Killian knew that. Four years in India. But, according to the letters his mother religiously sent, everything was fine back home. Emma excelled in the running of the earldom, so there was nothing to feel guilty about for staying away so long.

But he couldn’t stay away forever. When he’d come to India four years before - oh, hell, let’s be honest. When he’d run away to India four years before - it was with no more purpose than to get away from Emma. He couldn’t be near her. With her complete ignorance of his feelings for her, it wasn’t necessarily better for him to put eight thousand miles between them, but it was certainly easier. But once he arrived, to his great surprise, he found another purpose. He could see now why Liam had taken his seat in Parliament so seriously. When he arrived four years ago, he’d only had a name of a Royal Navy buddy who’d moved to Madras three years earlier. But within a month, he’d been appointed to a governmental post and was making decisions that actually mattered. It had given him a new purpose and a new outlook on life. Of course, it did nothing to curb his rakish tendencies, but over the years it had given him a sense of balance. It had given him time to actually make something of himself. And now… now that he was used to being addressed as Kilmartin - without looking over his shoulder for his beloved brother - it was time to actually return home and take up the duties of the earl.

He’d have to face her, of course. Maybe four years was enough time away from her that his heart could handle the rigors of being in close proximity with the one he loved. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he no longer loved her. He was quite sure he’d love her until the day he departed this earth. But maybe now - with the grief no longer so raw - maybe now he could be Emma’s friend, as she so ardently desired in those dark days after Liam’s death.

Either way, he was glad it would be March when he disembarked. Too early for Emma to have arrived in London for the season. Because honestly, there was truly nothing more frightening - not war, not an Indian tiger - than facing Emma Nolan Jones.

Decision made, he instructed a quite relieved Smee to book them passage on the Princess Amelia. He was going home.

~*~*~

Emma wanted a baby.

It wasn’t a new desire, but it had rather snuck up on her and it was only now that she could actually say it… out loud… to herself. Or not exactly say it, but at least think it… out loud… to herself. In a manner of speaking. Pun not intended.

It had begun innocently enough. A pang in her heart when she read a missive from her sister-in-law Mary Margaret, married to her eldest brother David, telling her all about their son, Leo’s latest escapades. He was nearly three and already giving them fits.

Then when her elder sister, Regina, descended upon Kilmartin Estate in Scotland with her brood of three - Richard age eight, Roland age five, and little Rebekah only eighteen months - she’d been amazed at how the Locksley children transformed Kilmartin. There was noise, and laughter, that had been sorely lacking for years. Likely since Liam and Killian were boys.

When they left, it was quiet. Not peaceful. Just silent.

And Emma was changed.

Now, when she saw a nursemaid pushing a pram, her heart ached. If she saw a rabbit cross a path, she missed a small someone beside her to point it out to. When she visited her family in London, and all her nieces and nephews finally left for the evening, she lay in her bed and realized that if she didn’t do something to change it, her life never would change. She’d live this life and eventually die.

Alone.

Not unhappy - her life was far too full and enjoyable for that - but alone. In the four years that Liam and Killian had been gone, she’d grown into her role as Countess Kilmartin, the sole caretaker of the holdings and land. Killian had never married after leaving for India, so she had retained all her duties as Countess. He’d left instructions for her to run the earldom as she saw fit and hadn’t interfered since. It was a precious gift that Killian had given her. She realized that now, even if it took her a long time to forgive him for leaving her in the first place. It gave her a purpose. A goal. A reason to stop staring at the ceiling.

She had friends and a wonderful family, both the Nolan and Jones sides, but the only thing missing, the one thing that would make her truly happy, was a baby. Which meant, of course, that she’d have to remarry.

Emma sighed as she considered it. It seemed a bit strange to imagine herself married to anyone but Liam. Potentially bearing a child that wouldn’t look like him. But if she wanted a baby, there was really no way around it. Even four years later, her wardrobe still consisted mostly of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. She was going to need a whole new wardrobe for the approaching season if she was going to put herself on the marriage mart. She’d buy green, to match her eyes. She’d buy blue, pink, and yellow, her favorite color. She might even buy - she shivered in anticipation just thinking about it - red.

The decision was made. She’d go down to London a month early and prepare to find herself a husband.

And that was that.

~*~*~

It was absolutely frigid. And it was entirely her fault. She’d forgotten to send notice that she’d be arriving early for the London season, so when she arrived at Kilmartin House, she found only the skeleton crew of staff and the stores of coal and candles perilously low.

She’d been assured that all would be rectified on the morrow, once the housekeeper and butler made a mad dash to Bond St, but for now, she shivered under the blankets on her bed. The housekeeper had offered to collect all the coal she could find for Emma’s bedchamber, but Countess or no, she wasn’t so high and mighty that she’d condemn the staff to a freezing night just so she could be comfortable. And anyway, the room was so large, it was always difficult to heat properly unless the rest of the house was warm as well.

The library. The library was small enough and with the door closed, a fire in the grate would keep the room quite cozy indeed. Plus there was a small settee she could lay on. She climbed out of bed and wrapped her robe around herself before peeking out into the quiet hallway.

She tiptoed down the hall and then the stairs, the heavy wool socks she wore slipping on the polished surface. She opened the door to the library and stifled a scream. A man stood in front of a cheery fire, warming his hands. Her head darted left and right, searching for anything she might use as a weapon when the man turned. Emma gasped.

“Killian?”

~*~*~

He hadn’t known she was in London. He hadn’t even considered she might be in London. Dammit, what was she doing in London? Not that it would have made any difference in whether he came back or not, but he at least might have been prepared. Prepared to be the charming and irredeemable rake she knew him to be.

But no. Here he was just gaping at her, trying desperately not to notice she wore nothing more than a sheer red gown and night robe, where he could just see the outline of the curve of her… don’t look, Don’t Look, DON’T LOOK…

“Killian?” she asked again.

“Emma,” he greeted, because he had to say something, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she asked, her whisper a bit more strident this time. “What are you doing here? I’m not the one supposed to be in India.”

Killian shrugged as casually as he could manage it and turned back to the fire. “Thought it was time to come home, was all.”

“Couldn’t you have written? Informing us you were coming?”

He raised an eyebrow sardonically before he replied. “To you?” It was a direct hit and he knew it. He only felt a little dismayed at her hard swallow of guilt. He’d written to her a few times after he left for India, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to reply, he maintained his correspondence through his mother.

“To anyone.” Her whisper was hushed now and Killian brushed aside the guilt her quiet accusation engendered. “We could have had the house ready for you.”

He shrugged again. “It’s ready enough.”

“Someone could have been here to meet you.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the corner of his lips. “You’re here.”

She huffed indignantly. “You still could have written. It’s only courteous.”

“Emma,” he said, exasperated. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a letter to get here from India?”

“Five months,” she answered, promptly. “Four, with favorable winds.”

“By the time I decided to come, it wouldn’t have done any good. The letter would have gone out on the same ship I was on.” He paused for a moment. “And does it really matter?”

Now it was Emma’s turn to shrug. “I suppose not.” She smiled gently at him and that damned place behind his ear itched. “It is good to have you back. Your mother will be thrilled.” He turned back to the fire, the better to hide the grim smile on his face.

“Yes,” he murmured, “I’m sure she will be.”

“As am I-I,” she stammered, “of course.”

She didn’t really sound as if she meant her words, but he decided to be a gentleman and not point it out.

“Are you cold?” he asked, instead.

“No,” she said quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

“You’re lying.”

She shrugged and looked sheepish. “Maybe?”

“For heaven's sake, Emma. If you’re cold, come warm yourself by the fire. I won’t bite.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, in a move to put him firmly back on the solid ground of their relationship four years ago. “Unless you ask me to.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she approached and Killian’s smile became more genuine. After a few moments of companionable silence, Emma spoke.

“You look well.”

“As do you.”

“It’s been a long time.”

He sighed before replying. “It has. Four years.”

He sounded sad to her ears. Regretful almost. Perhaps he was sorry he’d stayed away so long. Perhaps he’d missed her… home, rather. But she couldn’t ask him. Not now. Not here. Not with this tension between them. When they’d parted badly four years ago, they’d both been wounded animals, lashing out at those closest to them, but she had hoped that seeing him again would be easier than this. She’d certainly imagined it enough times. He couldn’t stay away forever. She’d always known there would come a day when he returned, and the reality of what she was experiencing now was the furthest from what she expected when he did. She wanted nothing more than her best friend back.

“So what are your plans?” she asked.

“Beyond getting warm?” he muttered.

She couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. “It is indeed chilly for this time of year.”

“I came home because I couldn’t stand the blasted heat anymore,” he said. “And here I am about to perish from the cold.”

“But it will be spring soon,” she tried to placate him.

“Ah, yes,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Where the winds will merely be frigid instead of icy.”

She turned to look at him then. The light from the fire danced across his visage, creating shadows that made his features difficult to decipher. But this close to him, she could see that he had changed, however subtly. He was deeply tanned, of course, scandalously so, and the hair at his temples had just a touch of silver. But beyond that, he held himself differently. The smooth, effortless grace with which he moved was gone and now he seemed rigid. Tight. Like he was preparing himself for a blow.

The corner of her lips twisted into a smirk. “I suppose so. But Miss Blue has assured me the house will be restocked tomorrow. I only just arrived this evening as well, after failing to give notice.”

They were quiet for a few more moments. “So what are you doing here?” he asked again.

She turned to him, surprised. But then realized she’d never answered his initial question.

“I live here.”

“But you don’t usually come down until April.” Her jaw dropped and he realized he’d need to explain how he knew that information. “Mother’s letters were remarkably detailed.”

“I see.” She moved closer to the fire and Killian sighed in agitation. She really didn’t need to be standing so close to him.

“Soooo?” he repeated.

She turned to him again, shocked to see how very close they were now standing. She pulled her robe more closely around herself and took a step away. She wasn’t ready to share her true reasons for coming to London early. Goodness, she’d only just recently admitted them to herself. But he was waiting and she couldn’t just let the question linger between them.

“I felt like it,” she said with a shrug, and with as much haughtiness as she could muster.

Killian nodded. He was glad she’d stepped away from him, however small the step might be. She was now out of his reach, and that was a very good thing. She was going to have to be the one to establish their boundaries, because there was no way he’d be up to the task.

They were silent for a few more minutes in front of the grate before he excused himself and adjourned to his bedchamber.

Once he was cocooned in more blankets than he’d ever remembered needing before, sleep was elusive. She was different, he realized. Not in her appearance. She hadn’t changed at all. She was still his beautiful Emma with eyes as green as the jungles of India, porcelain skin, and golden hair that seemed to capture what little sunshine England saw in a year. But inside, she was changed. Killian had always prided himself on being able to read Emma like an open book, and what he saw in her now terrified him.

There was an air of availability surrounding her, as if she had truly moved on from his brother. And the only thing keeping him from reaching out right now and touching her was the physical distance between them and his own conscience.

Four years was obviously not enough time away from Emma for his heart to handle being this close to her again. And he had no idea what he was to do with that knowledge. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

~*~*~

The next morning, when Killian finally arose, the house was fully back in order, as befit the home of an earl. There was a fire in every grate and a splendid proper English breakfast was prepared - coddled eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, toast with butter and marmalade, as well as his personal favorite, boiled mackerel. Even if it did make him realize he missed the yogurts and dosas of his Indian morning meal.

Emma was nowhere to be seen and he realized why when he opened the folded note handed to him by Smee as he sat down to eat. Concerned about the wagging tongues of the ton, Emma had removed herself to her mother’s house at 5 Bruton St, until such time as Alice Jones arrived from Scotland. She did invite him to visit her there, as there was much for them to discuss.

As soon as he finished his quite excellent breakfast, he walked to the dowager viscountess’ house. It felt good to reacquaint himself with the rhythm of London - the sights of the city, the smells of roasted nuts and soot in the air, the sounds of his boots on the street, the shouts of the flower sellers, the clip clop of horses hooves. It was strange, but no more strange than when he’d first arrived in India. It all wove together in a symphony that was uniquely London. It was going to take some getting used to.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of a shop along the way. The tan he now sported would take weeks to fade. Maybe months. His mother would be positively scandalized. The thought made a cheeky smirk bloom across his face. He was quite sure he’d never outgrow the enjoyment of scandalizing his mother.

He arrived at Number 5 and climbed the steps to the front door. He was obviously expected because he hadn’t even the chance to rap on the door before it swung open. The dowager viscountess was already in her receiving room, pouring herself tea when he entered the room.

“Killian!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair beneath the window. “How wonderful to see you in London again!”

She greeted him with all the affection she would shower on a wayward son, which, given her very wide definition of “family”, was not at all unexpected. She considered Liam a son, and since he was his brother and such a frequent companion to Liam and Emma, Killian was automatically invited to anything they were invited to. Which, of course, was everything. He took her outstretched hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

“Lady Nolan,” he murmured.

She smiled as if she knew all the secrets in the world, and couldn’t wait to share them. “No one does that the way you do,” she said, approvingly.

“One must always take care to practice one’s maneuvers,” he replied, rakish smirk set upon his lips.

“And I can’t tell you how we ladies of a certain age appreciate you doing so.”

His grin widened. “A certain age being… one and thirty?”

Lady Nolan was the sort of woman who only grew lovelier with age, but the smile she graced him with now made her positively radiant. “You are always welcome in this house, Killian Jones.” His smile turned genuine as he took his seat. “Oh, dear,” she continued, “I do apologize. I suppose I should call you Kilmartin now.”

“Killian is just fine,” he assured her.

“I know it's been four years, but since I haven’t seen you…”

“You may call me anything you wish.” It was strange, and not exactly pleasant, to hear his title on Lady Nolan’s lips. He’d finally become used to it down in India, but here, it was rather unnerving. He didn’t mean to interrupt her, but he truly didn’t want to hear his title coming out of her mouth.

If she was aware of his discomfort with the conversation, she gave no indication. “Well, if you are to be so accommodating, then I must be as well. Please call me Ruth.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” he began. And he meant it. This was Lady Nolan, and he could never call her by her Christian name.

“I insist, Killian,” she said, “and I’m sure you’re aware that I almost always get my way.”

He sighed, very much aware of the veracity of that statement. “I don’t know that I could kiss the hand of a Ruth. It seems scandalously intimate.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Tongues will wag,” he tried again.

“I’m certain my reputation could withstand it.”

“Ah, but could mine?” he asked.

“You are a scoundrel,” she laughed.

He sat back in his chair, a smile on his face. “It serves me well.”

“Would you care for tea?” she asked, motioning to the pot she’d just been about to pour when he arrived. “Mine has gone cold, I’m sure, but I’ll gladly ring for more.”

“I’d love some.”

She pulled the rope, summoning the butler. “I’m sure you’re spoiled for it now, after four years of tea in India.”

“There’s nothing quite like English tea,” he assured her.

“The quality of the water, do you think?” she asked.

“The quality of the woman pouring,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

She laughed, delightedly. “Oh, my lord, you need a wife. Immediately.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Because you are clearly a danger to every unmarried woman in England.”

“I do hope you are including yourself in that number,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

“Are you flirting with my mother?” a new voice asked.

Killian looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, looking exquisite in a lavender morning dress, trimmed with remarkably intricate lace that, if he had to guess, probably came from the finest lace maker in France. She was trying to look stern, but the twisting of the corner of her lips belied her countenance. Killian rose and took the hand she offered him, brushing his lips across her knuckles, the same way he’d done with her mother a few minutes earlier.

“Emma,” he began, “I have traveled all over the world, and I can truly say there are very few women with whom I’d rather flirt than your mother.”

“You are expected for dinner this evening, Killian Jones,” Ruth interjected. “And I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He chuckled as he resumed his seat. “I’d be delighted.”

Emma sat across from the pair. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmured.

Killian flashed her a grin. This was good. They were falling right back into their respective roles. He as the dashing and charming rapscallion, she as the proper lady pretending to scold him. Exactly the way it’d been before Liam died. The night before, he’d been surprised to see her and hadn’t had time to make sure his public persona was firmly in place. And it was of utmost importance that it was in place around Emma, because he could never allow her to see what simmered just below the surface.

“What plans do you have now that you’ve returned?” Ruth asked as a maid arrived with the tea tray.

“My goodness, that was quick,” Killian commented, as Emma prepared his tea. She remembered how he took it - milk, no sugar - and for some reason that pleased him immensely. He took it from her hands and then addressed Ruth’s question. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been gone so long, I imagine it will take some time to fully understand what is expected of me in my new role.”

“I’m sure Emma will be invaluable to you in that quarter,” Ruth assured him. Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, who was now pouring her own tea and studiously avoiding his gaze. “No one knows Kilmartin like Emma does,” she continued, pride in every word.

“Of course,” Emma murmured, still not looking at him. “I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

Killian took a sip of his tea before speaking. “I owe you a debt I could never repay, Emma.” She turned her head sharply toward him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. “For four years you’ve not only been the countess, but the earl as well. In everything but name. I’d never have been able to stay away for so long if the earldom had not been in such capable hands.”

Emma blushed at his praise, which surprised him greatly. In all the years he’d known her, he could count on one hand the number of times her cheeks had turned pink.

“Thank you,” she murmured, before taking a sip of her tea. “It was no difficulty, I assure you.”

“Perhaps, but it is truly appreciated all the same.” He took another sip and sat back as the ladies directed the conversation.

Soon, Killian found himself telling the ladies about his time in India - his experiences, the atmosphere, the food he ate, the job he had. He left out his romantic exploits, the marauders, and malaria, deciding they weren’t suitable for tea time conversation. He enjoyed himself immensely and realized that yes, it was good to be home.

~*~*~

An hour later, Emma found herself on Killian’s arm as they strolled through Hyde Park. The sun had come out and she’d declared that they simply must take advantage of the lovely weather. Killian, ever the gentleman, offered to accompany her.

“It’s just like old times, isn’t it?” she asked.

“What?” he replied. “Walking through Hyde Park with me, or how you cleverly arranged for me to accompany you?”

A satisfied smirk touched her lips. “Why, both, of course.” They continued to walk in silence for a few moments. “I hope you understand my reasons for leaving ,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to. I really do enjoy being my own woman and mistress of the house, and moving back under my mother’s roof with Ruby in residence as well, just makes me feel a child again.”

“Would you like me to take up residence elsewhere?” he asked.

“Oh, heavens, no! You’re the earl! Kilmartin House is yours,” she asserted. “Besides, Alice will be here any day, I’m sure. She said she’d be a week behind me, but we both know a week means four days, at most. And as soon as she is here, I’ll move back in.”

“I’m sure you will survive,” he chuckled.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course I will,” she agreed. “It’s just it makes me feel like I’m in my debut season, with all its rules and expectations.”

Killian shrugged. “Well, not all of them, obviously. If that were true, you wouldn’t be out walking with me.”

“True,” she allowed. She subtly bumped his shoulder, an amused smirk on her face. “Especially with you.”

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” He almost sounded indignant, and Emma had to quickly disguise her laugh as a cough.

She cut her eyes over to him, to see his jaw clenched and the small muscle jumping in irritation. Did her statement really bother him so much?

“Come now, Killian,” she tried to appease him. “You didn’t really think your reputation would suddenly become whiter than snow just because you were gone for so long, did you?”

“Emma…”

“Killian, you are a legend. Women still talk about you.”

He looked absolutely shocked at her words, with no small amount of dismay also circulating in his cerulean gaze.

“Not to you, I hope.”

“Oh, to me above all others,” she informed him, haughtily. “I’m the closest family you have here in London and they all want to know when you will be returning. Which, of course, now that you have… let the feeding frenzy begin!” She couldn’t help it, she was feeling quite pleased with herself for apparently striking terror into the heart of her dearest friend. He’d always been known as a dashing rapscallion without a care in the world, and now that he’d arrived home and seemed ready to take up his duties, his rank would undoubtedly make him the catch of the season.

“Yes, you will have to marry,” she continued, thoroughly enjoying his apparent discomfort, “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Killian sputtered indignantly. “I’m two and thirty!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “But as the earl, you need to marry and beget an heir. The mamas will be falling all over themselves trying to introduce you to their whiney and insipid daughters.”

“I feel very afraid.” His resigned but somehow completely expressionless face made her giggle.

“Oh, you should be,” she assured him. “You’re quite fortunate that I told my mother this morning before you arrived that she was not to push Ruby on you. Because she’d do it. In a heartbeat. Not that Ruby is whiney and insipid, but…” she trailed away meaningfully.

“Heaven forbid if any Nolan female was anything less than witty and engaging.” She shot him a look, not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Hmmmmm,” she mused. “I believe I shall introduce you to…”

“Emma Nolan Jones,” he interrupted, bringing them to a stop near the Serpentine and turning to face her. “You are not to play matchmaker for me. Is that understood?” She opened her mouth to respond but he spoke again before she could get a word out. “And don’t you say that someone has to. I am a grown man and can handle myself when it comes to all that.”

Really, he thought with amusement, she hadn’t changed a bit. Always wanting to manage the people around her. She was quite the open book to him, and that hadn’t changed either.

“Killiannn,” she began, drawing out the final sound so she sounded like a petulant teen rather than the grown woman she was.

“I have been back in town for less than one day. One day,” he repeated, as he led them to a small bench next to the path. “It doesn’t matter that the sun is out, I am cold, I am tired, and not a single thing has been unpacked from my journey. Please give me at least a week before you start planning my wedding.”

“A week then,” she said slyly as she took her seat, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Emma,” he said, warning lacing his tone.

“Oh, very well,” she conceded. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you attend your first society function and the mamas are circling like sharks before coming in for the kill, you’ll be begging for my help.”

He shuddered at the image, and the knowledge that she was probably quite correct.

“I’m sure I will,” he placated, with a patronizing smile on his face he knew she’d detest. “And when it happens, I promise that I shall be duly prostrate with apologies and will beseech almighty God that according to your tender mercies, you will not leave me to the sharks of the ton.”

She laughed then and his smile turned genuine. He could always make her laugh, and it brought him far more joy and comfort at the moment than he should have allowed it to.

“It’s good to have you back, Killian.”

“It’s good to be back.” He said the words without thinking, automatically, but as soon as they left his lips, he realized he meant them. It was good to be back. It might be difficult, yes, but it wasn’t any more than what it had been before he left. Her smile was soft and genuine, none of the sly mischievousness that was such a part of her. She really was glad to have him back and that did more to warm his heart than any of their interactions so far.

She turned toward the Serpentine and focused her attention there, nodding her head absently. He looked in the same direction and couldn’t see anything that might have attracted and held her attention like that. He only saw a rather sour faced nursemaid pushing a pram.

“What are you looking at?” he asked. She didn’t speak, but continued to nod absently. He wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it. “Emma?”

She turned to him suddenly, her green eyes bright. “I want a baby.”

“I beg your pardon?” If she had suddenly announced that she planned to run away to America, he could not have been more surprised.

“A baby,” she repeated. “Lots of women want to have children,” she insisted. “Is it truly a surprise that I would as well?”

“W-well,” he stammered, quite at a loss of what to say in response. “I- I don’t suppose so…”

“I’m not getting any younger, either,” she continued. “Why, my mother was on her third child when she was my age.”

“Yes,” he interjected, finally pulling himself together enough to reply to her babbling, “but your mother was also married.”

“Well, of course she was,” she replied. “Why do you think I came down to London early? I’m looking for a husband.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he knew his face reflected that utter and complete surprise.

“Do you have a particular gentleman in mind?”

“Not at the moment, no,” she allowed with a shrug of her shoulders, “but I’d imagine someone suitable would present themselves relatively quickly…” She trailed off and her face looked a bit pensive. He was still reeling from her pronouncement or he might have realized she was as shocked as he was that she’d actually said the words out loud.

“And that’s if I can even conceive in the first place,” she said softly, almost too softly to hear. “It took me two years with Liam, and look how I mucked that up.”

That got his attention. “Emma,” he said fiercely, facing her, “You cannot blame yourself for the miscarriage.”

“Can you imagine,” she said, a watery laugh bursting from her lips that she was helpless to keep inside, “marrying so that I might have a baby and then being unable to actually have one?”

“It happens all the time,” he said softly.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “But it’s my choice. I don’t have to remarry. I’d be able to remain independent, I am well provided for, I wouldn’t have to leave Kilmartin…” but her heart would have this ache for the rest of her life. And she wasn’t sure she could survive that. But was it worth marrying someone simply for the chance of being a mother? Because she certainly wouldn’t be marrying for love. She loved Liam with everything that was in her. One simply did not find two loves like that in a lifetime.

She sighed, and it sounded utterly forlorn to her ears. She was going to marry for a baby. And there was no guarantee she would get one.

“Emma?”

She didn’t look at him, but sat staring straight ahead, furiously blinking away the tears in her eyes. Killian held out his handkerchief, but she didn’t take it. If she did, the dam would break. There’d be no stopping it.

“I must move on,” she asserted. “Liam has been gone for four years, and I…” She turned to him then and the words stopped. They simply disintegrated. She was caught completely unawares, the kind of shock that makes it hard to breathe.

Of course she knew what Killian looked like. Of course she knew he was handsome. Of course she knew among all the men of her acquaintance, there was no more perfect specimen of manhood than Killian Jones. Her brothers were all handsome men, but even they didn’t compare to Killian. His eyes were the color of a perfect summer sky, the scruff along his jaw had flecks of ginger among the black that matched his hair. His lips were full and lush, and her own dropped open with a small gasp.

“I must go,” she said, leaping up suddenly, hoping and praying that he didn’t notice the breathiness in her voice that was so apparent to her. “I forgot about an appointment with the modiste.”

“Of course,” he agreed, rising with her.

“All of my clothing is in half-mourning colors.” She knew she was rambling, but she had to say something to make the lie convincing.

Killian frowned in distaste and if she hadn’t been so agitated, it might have made her laugh. “Get blue. And green to match your eyes,” he suggested.

“Yes, yes,” she said, still a bit off balance as she took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her back to Number Five. She had to maintain appearances. She couldn’t possibly allow him to guess what had just transpired on the banks of the Serpentine in her heart and mind.

For when Emma looked at Killian just then, for the very first time, she saw a man. And it scared the very devil out of her.

~*~*~

Emma was never one to sit still, a firm believer in staying busy, that the best course of action was more action. So as soon as she arrived home from her walk with Killian, she found her mother and informed her of her intention to visit the modiste. Immediately. Might as well make truth of her lie as quickly as possible.

Ruth was delighted to join her, of course. She couldn’t hide her joy at the prospect of seeing Emma out of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. Normally, Emma would have resented shopping with her mother - she was perfectly capable of choosing her own wardrobe after all - but for some reason, the presence of her mother was strangely comforting today.

Emma looked out the window of the carriage as it rolled along towards the exclusive shops of Bond Street.

“Mother?” she asked, before she even realized she intended to speak.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why did you never remarry?”

Surprise colored Ruth’s face, her mouth falling open slightly, her eyes turning suspiciously bright. “That is the first time any of you have asked me that.” Her awe-infused words took Emma aback.

“None of us?” she asked incredulously. “Are you sure?” It seemed impossible. Emma believed her mother, but she couldn’t believe that not one of her five older siblings had ever thought to ask their mother the same question.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I’m quite certain. I would have remembered.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma murmured.

Ruth cleared her throat gently. “I don’t know how much you remember - you were very young - but when your father died, it was quite sudden. None of us expected it.” A sad chuckle broke from her lips before she continued. “A bee sting.” Even all these years later, Ruth still sounded surprised when she said the words. “Who would have thought such a strong, vital man would be brought down by something so small. So insignificant.” She paused and pulled out a white handkerchief, holding it close to her mouth as she cleared her throat. “Anyway, it was such a shock.” Then she turned soft and achingly wise eyes on her youngest daughter. “I expect you know better than anyone.”

Emma couldn’t speak and nodded slowly instead.

Ruth took a deep breath, obviously eager to move on from this aspect of the conversation. “Anyway, after Robert was gone, I was just so… stunned. There was no other word for it. I felt as if I was walking in a haze. Barely aware of anything going on around me. I’m not at all certain how I managed that first year. Or even the ones immediately thereafter, for that matter. I couldn’t possibly think of remarriage.”

“I know,” Emma replied, softly. Because, she did.

“And after that… I’m not quite sure why.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I never found someone I wanted to share my life with. Maybe I just loved your father too much. But, you also have to remember, I was in a very different stage of life than you are. I was older, and the mother of six. Your father left our affairs in very good order. I knew we’d never want for anything.”

“Liam left Kilmartin in very good order,” she murmured.

“Of course, he did,” Ruth replied, quickly, reaching over to pat Emma’s hand reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Of course not.”

“But you do not have children, Emma,” she continued, gently, “and quite a lot of years ahead of you to spend alone, if you do not remarry.”

“I know, I know,” she breathed, a sense of urgency lending a tone of near panic to her words. “It’s just… it’s just…” she repeated.

“It’s just, what, Emma?” her mother asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” The words loomed large in her heart and mind and Emma struggled to give them voice. Ruth remained silent, giving her time to bring her racing thoughts and feelings under control. She looked down and spoke to her hands, her words no louder than a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong. If I’m dishonoring Liam. Dishonoring our marriage.”

“There’s nothing wrong with remarrying, if that’s what you want to do, Emma,” Ruth counseled her. “Liam would want you to be happy. What makes you think you’d be dishonoring him or your marriage by remarrying?”

Emma looked up into her mother’s eyes, searching for something, she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps approval, perhaps love, because there was something supremely comforting about looking for something she knew beyond any doubt she’d immediately find.

“I- I know that I’ll never find anything like what I had with Liam,” she stammered. “You don’t find a love like that twice in a lifetime. I’ve accepted that. But, it feels wrong to marry for anything less.”

“I see,” Ruth replied. “Yes, it’s true, you’ll never find anyone like Liam. But,” she continued, “you might find someone who fits you in a different way. Rather like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing.”

Emma looked sharply at her mother. “What did you say?”

“Just now?” she asked. “I said you might find someone who fits you a different way from Liam. Like a puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing.”

Emma was suddenly back to the night Liam died when she and Killian had taken an evening stroll. She remembered thinking that if Liam understood her like no other, then Killian completed her, like a puzzle piece she didn’t know was missing. Was there any possible way that Ruth could have guessed her earlier epiphany about Killian? Emma scrutinized her mother closely, trying hard not to draw her attention from where she sat looking out the window. She had no clue her words had affected Emma so much, so it would behoove her to redirect the conversation.

“I want a baby,” Emma burst out. “That’s why I want to remarry.”

Ruth turned soft eyes on her. “I thought you might.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Why didn’t you ask why I never remarried?” Ruth’s face was utterly serene. No accusation or condemnation in her countenance. Emma shouldn’t have been surprised at the perceptiveness of her mother.

“If you had been either Regina or Ruby, I would have,” Ruth finally answered her question. “But you…” Her smile was soft and nostalgic now, “You were always different. Even as a child you held yourself apart. You needed your independence.”

Emma reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed. “I love you, you know that?”

“Well, I did suspect.”

“Mother!”

Ruth laughed. “Of course I knew it. How could you not love me?” She made a grand sweeping gesture toward herself, her eyes twinkling merrily. “With as wonderful as I clearly am!” They both giggled at the outrageously playful statement. “But truly,” her mother continued once their mutual mirth was under control. “Yes, I know you love me. As I love you. Very, very much.”

Emma’s chagrin showed on her face. “I haven’t told you. Recently anyway.”

“Well, you have been a bit occupied for a while.”

Emma looked down and covered the giggle that wanted to escape with a light cough. “May I ask you another question?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“If I don’t find someone… like the puzzle piece,” she took a gasping breath, “but I did find someone I rather liked, and married him… would that be alright?”

Ruth was silent for a long moment before she answered. “That is something that only you can answer, my love.” The look on her face was full of compassion and Emma felt the tears burning her eyes. “I would never say no, of course. Most of the gentry have marriages exactly like that, and they are perfectly content. But I would hope that my children wouldn’t have that situation as their fate. I would not call it dishonoring exactly to Liam, or to your marriage, but life is too short to settle for a marriage that doesn’t make you deliriously happy. Too short to settle for anything less than a relationship that would complete you. Yes, it will be different than Liam, but I believe you can find it.”

How did she know? How did she know the exact words to say that would bring Killian right back to the front of her mind? Yes, in many ways Killian did complete her, but could she love him? Love him the way she’d loved Liam? It truly didn’t seem possible, but in light of her mother’s words and her own thoughts over the years, perhaps it was worth considering. Even if she wasn’t sure she could live with herself afterward.

~*~*~

After Killian arrived back at Kilmartin House, he shut himself in his room, took off his boots, loosened his cravat, and moved to the window. He looked down to the street to see a nurse holding the hand of a small child. He had no experience with children whatsoever and was quite at a loss to guess the age of the child, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they might be on their way to Hyde Park. He grimaced.

Emma wanted a baby.

He didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a woman. And didn’t all women want to have children? And while he didn’t really think that Emma would pine away for Liam forever, it had never occurred to him that she might desire to remarry, either.

Liam and Emma were always a unit. And while Liam’s death did make it easier to think of one without the other, it was quite different to think of one of them with another.

Then there was the small matter of his skin crawling, his usual reaction to the thought of Emma with another man.

He shuddered. Or was that a shiver? Damn, he hoped it wasn't a shiver.

He supposed he’d have to get used to the idea. Emma wanted a baby. And to have a baby, she’d need a husband. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. If only she’d taken care of that last year. Then it would be over and done with by now. But as it was, he was going to have to watch.

Bloody hell.

He shivered again. Damn. Maybe he was just cold. It was March, after all, and a bloody chilly one, even with a fire in the grate. He pulled his cravat off on account of it feeling suddenly tight. He felt awful. Hot and cold at the same time, and off balance as well. He sat down for a few minutes, but then gave up all pretense of being well, stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next chapter will be up on Wednesday.

#a scoundrel... or a gentleman?#krystal writes #inspired by francesca bridgeton's story

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kanerallels · 5 months

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Behold, the very quick follow up to this fic!! As with before, no season 4 spoilers!

This was the last place William should be. He had half a dozen things that needed attending to after the recent arrests— paperwork to be filed, men to debrief, to say nothing of the superintendent— and a dozen more open cases he should be working on.

And yet. Here he sat, in a rickety chair in a small hospital room. Flipping through one of the files Fitzroy had dropped off at his request and pretending to read the contents. Pretending he wasn’t watching the woman laying motionless in the hospital bed.

He’d brought Eliza to the hospital a few hours earlier. After she was taken hostage and shot. Shot. How could I let this happen? The doctors had been able to remove the bullet and stitch her up easily enough, but due to a combination of blood loss (too much blood. He still remembered her blood staining his hands.) and sedatives, she still hadn’t woken up. And William couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Staring at the file in his hands, he tried to read the report inside. Instead, his gaze drifted up to Eliza again. Her eyes were closed, and the white sheets made her look even paler. She was almost never still like this. Even when she was sitting, one could practically see her thinking, her mind moving faster than he would have thought possible.

I let this happen. Henry, I’m so sorry. I should have protected her better.

Swearing under his breath, William tossed the file to the side, where it joined the others on the bedside table. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he dropped his face into his hands.

“You look rather terrible.”

Eliza’s voice, albeit weaker than usual, snapped him out of his thoughts. Sitting up sharply, William saw her watching him from her bed. A thousand different retorts tumbled through his head, all swept away seconds later by the thought, She’s awake. She’s awake and alright.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

One of her eyebrows went up. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting that answer. Usually, you’d have some snide response.”

“Usually, you haven’t been shot,” William pointed out, the ache in his chest easing a little. She’s fine. “And I am not snide.”

“Of course, William,” she said, not a speck of sincerity in her voice, and he had to roll his eyes. “Um. I admit my memories are a little fuzzy, but… we apprehended our culprit?”

Of course, she’s focusing on the case. Although she’s in the right for once— I should be, too. “We did,” he assured her. “Fitzroy and Phelps are processing the prisoners. Your client dropped by earlier, he said that he would deliver your payment tomorrow.”

“Hmm. Well, as humbling as having one’s client see one in a hospital bed is, I suppose the payment will make up for that,” Eliza reflected with a sigh as she stared up at the ceiling. Flicking a glance at William, she asked, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Leaning back in his seat, William gestured to the files stacked on the bedside table. “I am working.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “Why are you here, William?”

Well. He couldn’t exactly tell her the real reason. Glancing to the side to buy a little time, William thought, Oh, that would go well. Just say “I’m here because I nearly got you killed and your father is probably turning in his grave, and I’ve never come so close to losing you in my life. And it terrified me.”

I definitely can’t say that.

A slight gasp caught his attention, and he looked up to see Eliza grimacing as she tried to sit up. “What the blazes do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, moving out of his seat and to her side in a swift movement.

“I hate laying here like this,” Eliza huffed as he set a hand at the small of her back, supporting her. “It makes me feel far too useless, like some kind of invalid.”

“You’ve been shot,” William pointed out, moving and stacking the pillows behind her. “You are an invalid. Here, lay back on that. Slowly.”

He didn’t let go until she’d eased back onto the pillows, which supported her so she was half reclining, half sitting upright. Then he moved back to his chair. “This, by the way, is why I’m here,” he informed her. “To make sure you don’t kill yourself trying to sit up.”

“Hardly likely, with you hovering like a mother hen,” Eliza grumbled.

“Well, that is the intention. And I’m not a mother hen.”

Letting out a snort that William did not think was remotely ladylike, Eliza said, “Now that is a blatant lie. If there’s one thing this entire debacle has proved, it’s the fact that I’m right.”

“Debacle is right,” William muttered, a twinge of guilt skewering him again. Ruthlessly shoving it down, he told her, “When you’re better, we’re going to have a conversation about charging into situations that you don’t have a grasp on yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “If I never went charging into situations, there would be a great many unsolved cases out there, William. I rather think that’s worth the price.”

“Well, I don’t.” It slipped out before he could think better of it.

She didn’t even bat an eyelash. “You don’t get a vote.”

“Of course I don’t.” He’d be annoyed if he wasn’t so relieved to see her awake and alright, snipping at him like she always did. She’s alright. I didn’t completely fail, and she’s safe, most importantly.

That eased enough of the fear and unrest stampeding through his chest. Reaching forward, he plucked a file off the bedside table, flipping it open. As he began to read it, he could feel Eliza watching him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Working,” he said, not looking up. “Remember?”

“You don’t need to stay with me, you know,” she said. “I’m fine on my own.”

“I know.”

She didn’t say anything else— not then— and together, they settled into a comfortable silence.

#miss scarlet and the duke #msatd #eliza scarlet #william wellington #eliza x william #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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mugentakeda · 3 months

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Do you have any fic recs similar to your take on iroh? Treating him as an actual character with some fucked up issues is SO much more fun!! I love him and I am chewing on your art

YES!!!!!!!! everytime i post about shithead iroh moments i get nervous someones gonna think i dont like him or im anti iroh or whatever but i genuinely honest to god think his less than savory past and personality traits ON TOP of the things about him that make him so beloved by the fandom makes him better. like yeah i love all parent characters that are just big softies but big softie parents that also are kinda (very much ) fucked up are even better. to ME. and i dont usually judge how good characters are on the basis of how good of a parent they are which is oddly something that a Lot of people do but. U wont find any of that on this blog which is also why i loveeeee ursa.

BUT I DIGRESS! here is my absolute favorite. its unfinished but what is there is still very loaded. digs in deep to iroh. gets pretty nitty gritty with it too. it changed how i see iroh and specifically season 1 iroh. it balances his b1 behavior with his later revealed status as a grand lotus MASTERFULLY, and puts his manipulative and cunning side on full display. might even make you mad at him a little bit

this one is less of a take on iroh as like. a general and a grand lotus and the war side of him and more of him as a father. its short and sad and i adore all of this authors fics involving iroh. it still shines a good light on the consequences of irohs own actions though because lu ten dying was literally his fault. the selfishness and the manic desperation that bleeds through this monologue is kind of scary but also is tragically beautiful.

ALSO these specific parts near the end of salvage were REALLY good. i feel like iroh is definitely the kind of guy that does a whole lot of backhanded comments as a way of patronizing without probably even realizing he does it?? i think a lot of people forget that what makes iroh being “changed” different from zuko is that zuko is still a child, and iroh is like. in his fifties or something. a whole LIFETIME of probably doing everything zuko did pre-redemption but far worse, and plenty times over. take how young azula is when ozai let her loose into the world into account. take the fact that iroh was already a general by the time he was sieging bss into account. im not gonna compare and contrast crimes here but i am trying to put weight onto how long iroh has been in the game. nasty shit like this is bound to still creep in the shadows of irohs mind and will definitely slip out sometimes.

and i know i keep bringing up that one unfinished super gnarly au fic that features azulon putting zuko into irohs care following irohs return to ba sing se (after ozai disgraced himself in requesting azulon give ozai the throne since iroh lost his only heir). hopefully one day ill find it because i hate to think the author deleted it or whatever . but out of all the fics that dig into irohs crimes id say this one does it the deepest while also SOMEHOW managing to make iroh sympathetic just by how sheerly pathetic and miserable he is the whole time. ONE DAY THOUGH. i pray that i will find it. because i have like over 200 pages of history on ao3 and i cant remember when exactly i read the fic so . searching for it has been kind of difficult but if i find it trust i will post it lol

#i know this isnt much but for some reason depicting iroh like this is kinda. Uncommon.#WHICH STINKS but whatever.#asks

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cboffshore · 25 days

Note

Sorry I know you are not a fan of thinking about it but I’m curious. Is your disgust of Skybound angst baced on a moral problem with Sa being represented and talked about at all? From what I’ve seen of your work you also uses Nadakhan’s canon creepiness that uses the fear that he is going to do worse things. It’s like you’ve drawn a certain line and shame those who write worse. Didn’t Nadakhan kiss Nya against her will? Is it because of jay focus specifically? No shame in staying away from all that of course but it’s strange like Skybound “as it is” so much but also dismiss and explain away things that happened you didn’t like or act like everyone should just not think about implications you’ve acknowledged as there. I don’t see how you could be more upset at fanfic writers than people actually paid to write and produce what clearly caused that kinda fic to be written. Again sorry to bug I don’t usually interact here but yeah.

I've read this over a few times and I think the best way for me to respond is with line by line replies because... this is a lot at once, ngl. Under the cut we go!

Is your disgust of Skybound angst baced on a moral problem with Sa being represented and talked about at all?

No. I should clarify that I'm neutral to positive on angst in general - done well, it's a great way to examine a character or situation. My specific problem with the most representative chunk of Skybound angst is how it misinterprets/misrepresents the themes of the season, usually in a way that comes off to me (key words: to me) as pointless and unfair to the characters and underlying story. It's not a moral issue. I'm just sick of the scene being flooded this way.

From what I’ve seen of your work you also uses Nadakhan’s canon creepiness that uses the fear that he is going to do worse things. It’s like you’ve drawn a certain line and shame those who write worse. Didn’t Nadakhan kiss Nya against her will?

Good point. I do use the canon creepiness factor, it's true, because that's a crucial part of Nadakhan's character. However, I draw that line and try to play within the bounds of what the show would do, because that helps me process it both to understand 1. why it's uncomfortable as-is and 2. how it serves the narrative. 2 there is kind of how I handle any analysis - no point in ragging on the writers or their intent (more on that later) because I'm analyzing the story for what the story holds. I'm not into cranking things up for the sake of angstifying my work, because I believe that with enough analysis of the existing material, I don't need to. I'm certainly not trying to shame anyone, and I understand that it might come off like that sometimes. Genuinely: I'm not trying to shame anyone, and I'm sorry if I've made it sound like I am.

Is it because of jay focus specifically?

Only kind of. (I'm writing this as if "it" in this phrase refers to my discomfort with the field of overblown Jay angst, just so we're clear.) I'm all for Jay character analysis! I like him as a character, and I love his arc in Skybound. What bothers me is when the SA themes that, by all canon means, should be applied to Nya get shuffled over to Jay even though there is zero indication in canon that he experienced it. I'm all for creative license, yes, but it also baffles me when people analyze and write Jay through that "SA was a huge cornerstone of his trauma" lens, because it wasn't. I think there are so many better questions to ask about Jay's arc and experience than "what if he was assaulted on top of all his other suffering?" On a similar note: I also think there are way better questions to ask about Nya's arc, and Nadakhan's, but unfortunately all three of them get shoehorned into reductive roles in this specific type of work, which is a disappointment. I think all three of them deserve focus in different ways, and deep dives into the things they actually did and experienced. Again: nothing wrong with a Jay focus, but I think it's more compelling to dive deep into what did happen to him than to transfer Nya's implied experience to him and crank it up.

No shame in staying away from all that of course but it’s strange like Skybound “as it is” so much but also dismiss and explain away things that happened you didn’t like or act like everyone should just not think about implications you’ve acknowledged as there.

This is where I think you're misunderstanding my position. If I've come off as saying that we should just handwave the problematic elements of the season (both of and onscreen), then please know that has never been my intention. To be perfectly clear, I'm not trying to explain these weird things away - I am simply trying to explain them. Fact of the matter is that those elements are there, stuck in a story I've found unusually compelling for eight years running; I can't get rid of them, so I may as well dig in and see why they're there and how they contribute. Does that stop the uncomfortableness from being uncomfortable? Absolutely not. However, I like to examine what role that discomfort plays in the narrative instead of giggling like a middle schooler asking you to spell ICUP and then saying you're gross for saying that. Yes, I do like Skybound as it is - because it utilizes that discomfort well to say a lot of interesting stuff about the characters involved in it.

I don’t see how you could be more upset at fanfic writers than people actually paid to write and produce what clearly caused that kinda fic to be written.

Once again: I'm not terribly interested in analyzing the deeper motives behind why the story came out the way it did. Of course it's important to consider the origin of the season, and I do that when necessary; however, keep in mind that I'm doing this for fun. I find the story layered and compelling enough on its own, and while its origins may have been questionable, I don't think that invalidates what the story has to say at all. I also find the story interesting enough on its own that I think it's weird when authors ignore all those interesting things in favor of writing hundreds of thousands of words of Jay getting assaulted in every sense of the word. I'm definitely more focused on the fic writing side of it than I am on the canon writing side because, well, the fic side is the one I'm on! These are peers I share a digital space with in a way I can't with the showrunners.

Or, put another way: This is Tumblr. You've heard of the two cakes principle, right? The idea that the audience will appreciate having more art and writing available even if it's not as fancy as the famous stuff? This situation, to me, is like that in a way. This is like me showing up to a bake sale staffed by bakers who I know are talented and have access to the best equipment and ingredients. Except I roll up and the tables are eighty percent supermarket cupcakes. Sure, sometimes a supermarket cupcake hits the spot, and generally they're crowd pleasers - they'll sell well! But this is a bake sale staffed by wildly talented bakers. I know they're capable of cooler things and I know they have access to the time and resources to make those cooler things. Maybe they just care about the bake sale in a different way than I do, and that's fine, truly... but it's still disappointing.

I hope this cleared some stuff up for you, anon. If you've got any other questions, please let me know. (And you don't have to go anon for it if you don't want to - we can even discuss it via DM if you'd like to.)

#lila speaks #ninjago skybound #operation: sorrow is all the rage #analysis freak lila back on her bullshit

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yourghostwrotethis · 10 months

Text

Fic Recs #1

It's two A.M.. I'm not quite sure what to do because I'm not sleepy. Why not do a small recommendation list?

Actual recs under the cut. Read until the end!

All of these are pre-season 2, and take place in the show universe.

Talk About It (T)

by hope_in_the_dark (on Tumblr as @hope-inthedark)

Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.

Word count: 20806 (Complete)

I love fake dating AUs SO MUCH. And this is for sure one of the best ones out there. It's the perfect length, and there are snapshots through time that are simply lovely. I'm usually not a fan of the "long-time friends" trope, but this fic does it wonderfully. I don't want to say much more because I don't want to spoil anything but - it's great. Read it.

The Curve of Old Bones (E)

by Jenanigans1207 (@jenanigans1207)

Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

Words: 201271 (Complete)

Fair warning before you start: this one is LONG. I read really fast and even for me, this took a while. Every word is beautiful, but this is (well. Partly.) a slooooooww burn. If you don't like pining, or the two main ones being idiots: don't read this. But if you decide to give it a go, this story is absolutely worth your while.

Married at First Sight (T)

by Aracloptia (@aracloptia)

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over.

——— In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

Words: 92583 (Ongoing)

Ha. Yet another fake relationship AU... This time it's a fake marriage! But it's so so so cute and lovely and if it were corporeal I would want to squish its cheeks. There's a bit of miscommunication, so people who don't like that can be cautious, but it gets resolved and they become the better for having gone through it.

The Next Time We Wed (T)

by seashadows (@godihatethisfreakingcat)

“Guys, I’ve looked at the marriage license,” Anathema said, “and I’ve gotten copies of our notices and everything. The names on the documents aren’t Newt’s and mine anymore. Apparently they never were. They’re yours.” When a drunken attempt to help a friend gets Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally married, their decision to fake it instead of fix it changes their relationship in a way neither of them realizes the other wants. Over the course of a few short months, two supernatural beings discover that there are plenty of things they don’t know about each other, two humans finally get married (again), and everyone learns how to be a little braver.

Words: 21131 (Complete)

The footnotes. The FOOTNOTES. I love a good footnote, and this fic is riddled with them. It's one of the very first Good Omens fics I read and loved, so it has a special place in my heart. The humour drew me in immediately, and the plot and emotional moments kept me in. READ IT. READ IT NOW, I SAY.

Everything That's Meant (T)

by journeytogallifrey (@journeytogallifrey)

When two unconventional lead actors are cast in the series adaptation of Agnes Nutter's Prophecies, sparks fly and new ground is broken. Aziraphale Fell, classically trained and known for powerful biopics, yearns for a popular lead but is hindered by his brother's insistence that he stay in the closet. Anthony J. Crowley has perfected flashy, charismatic villains, but wonders if a hero will ever be on the cards for him. With Aziraphale as the angel Raphael and Crowley as the demon Asmodeus, something feels... off. But a breakthrough during a late-night rehearsal sets into motion something greater than they ever dreamed. Now all they have to do is overcome nefarious producers, bigotry, and a set that seems to be haunted by all manner of spirits and curses - all while falling for each other in a way Crowley finds exhilarating and Aziraphale finds terrifying. If they can survive it all, they'll come out the other side with the series of their career... and maybe even a chance at their own happily ever after. ~~~ Pre-written; updates daily until complete!

Words: 105043 (Complete)

I was lucky enough to witness this as it was updating, and it's wonderful! I'm very fond of actor AUs, and this was a great one. Journeytogallifrey made good choices, and there are plenty of moments where I audibly laughed, gasped, or cried. Special mention to Crowley's relationship with gender.

wasteland, baby (M)

by john1513 (@alwayscomewhenyoucall)

“Listen. Fell. I...I might, uh, have an idea.” “You do?” Aziraphale said, and hated the hopeful way he said it. “I’ll do it.” “You...won’t like it.” “Will it keep me out of prison?” “Maybe. Maybe the both of us. For now. Ideally.” “Then yes.” Crowley’s expression tightened, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley wanted to cry, or laugh. “You really, really won’t like it.” “I’ll like prison less.” He responded plainly. Crowley’s face twisted into something soft at first, just for a second, before searing into a careful little smirk, and Aziraphale knew that smile, that Cheshire cat smile, much too well to not be cautious. “Crowley, dear. What are you doing on the floor?” He cleared his throat. “Angel. Remember when I said you wouldn’t like it? Well, uh, here we are.” His smile grew awkwardly, apologetically, and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling about it. “Angel. Will you marry me?” ----- Crowley and Aziraphale plan a fake marriage to avoid having to testify against each other in court...they get much more than they bargained for.

Words: 45748 (Complete)

I found this while looking for fake relationships, but I'm not quite sure the term applies. It's just so sweet and kind and GOOD and fluffy. If you like both being nice, go here. And even if you don't. It's technically a mafia AU even though I forgot about that part so there's a little bit of grittiness nonetheless. Overall a very nice read.

And finally, for the last one...

Fifty-Two Blue (M)

by bendycello (@bendycello )

It would be a gross understatement to say that Crowley simply didn't like Aziraphale. He was posh and stuffy and arrogant, and Crowley couldn't figure out why everyone else in the program liked him so much. It hardly mattered; they were competitors, and Crowley didn't need to make friends to become a surgeon. It takes several unleasant encounters, the excessive use of house plants as a coping mechanism, and getting stuck in an elevator for Crowley to start reconsidering his priorities. Or... Crowley and Aziraphale are surgical interns with competitive streaks a mile wide each, and they really do not like each other at all. Until they do. (This whole fic is pre-written and completed, and updates will usually be weekly on Saturdays!)

Words: 37976 (Ongoing)

So. Anyone who knows me well knows that this is on my mind 24/7. I post about it fairly regularly. I go insane when a new chapter is up. It's *The* Fic. When I started this I knew this was going to be there. I can't even describe it it's just SO GOOD ARGH. (it's also long) I've read it so much Chrome automatically sorted it into one of my most visited websites. (I'm not even kidding.) The humour is perfect, the plot is too, the CHARACTERISATION. OH MY GOD. IT'S SO GOOD AND SO COMPLEX. I'm trying to stop myself from going on a rant about it because it could last for a while.

I also love receiving recs, so if anyone wants to boost their fic or wants to share a great one, please do!

I really like fake dating (if you couldn't guess), human AUs, all that sort of thing. But please feel free to share anything that doesn't deal with those themes!

I'm OwlWolf22091 on Ao3, in case you want to check out other bookmarks :P

#me #it's 3 am now 😂#good omens #fic #fic rec #fr1

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khaleesiofalicante · 4 days

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hi! i need to get something off my chest, like in shadowhunter world both tv and books, books is my favourite not because i hate tv characters (bc teh emotional vulnerability was very well done there- i literally it was so hard to wait for my school to get over so i could watch the show) but bc books is the original stuff which i fell in love with for teh first time, also why though all teh series are really good in shadow world but tmi holds a special place in my heart (no matter how imperfect it is in certain places) which i think also translates into my love for book!malec more than show!malec. (the height difference bugs me so much in show bc its not the right one, alec loves being shorter than magnus, but i love matt sorry harry but matt is yeeahhh...) idk why i have never been able to attach myself to show malec fics as much to book!malec fics. I think the only long show!malec fic i read was yours that you made about detective alec and lawyer magnus, but that was bc i love your writing and stories (i love the book!malec and mavid ones more sorry !! but i cant david is an original character but i love him so much, sry got sidetracked) tbh i also felt that the next malec fic would be show malec bc i cant (even tho i have read the lmlt i think it was named.. one of teh first long fics you wrote which had asmodeus and alec relation) imagine book alec having a relationship with asmodeus which is even remotely decent. but show malec have always been more softer and more communicative about their vulnerabilities. (which makes me realize now, i also love the intensity of book!malec more, huh)

Anyways i dont know why i blabbered, but i see so many posts about it but i am sorry show malec but book malec is it for me. or more like every book character esp jace and clary is it for me than show clace too. (i think it was also because of the actors though jace's actor did an amazing job in the later seasons.) But i can't wait for your new malec fic, i am ready to gobble up anything you put out there srsly, like i trust you are gonna make it worth it (like i never thought i would like the rwrb fic so much as i do rn, bc like in my hea di have already read teh book and i know what happens but yeah i should have known!)

Also have you ever thought of making a show and book crossover fic? i think you made one maybe i dont remember but like would you ever consider working in that world again?

No, I think this is fair. You're allowed to have a preference. I like book malec better too - simply because there is more to their characters and I usually prefer book versions anyway.

Regarding the fic, first things first, you can imagine them however you want! I know for a fact not everyone who read TLND imagined Alec as Sebastian Stan (I will stand by this casting!!). But it's how I, as the writer, imagined it. My castings are simply for me - to be very honest. I pick faces and people who help me visualize my characters better. But that does not mean you have to do it too. I'm sure people on ao3 who read my fics but don't follow me tumblr have no idea about any of these castings. So, yeah. You can imagine them however you want.

I also want to note, since I got another ask about this as well, that the casting I choose doesn't really affect the personality and behavior of the characters. It's the other way around really. Sure in the show Alec doesn't have blue eyes and Magnus is shorter, but those (among a few other differences) are completely irrelevant to this fic. If someone is put off by Magnus being shorter (in my fic, I mean) then that's their problem. It's such a mundane detail (for me) and I'm not going to be mentioning the colour of their eyes and their height every five seconds. This fic is rather different so I doubt it'd be mentioned at all (considering it's alec pov too - if you notice he is the kind of character where i don't write a lot of descriptions for the people he interacts with because Alec doesn't care about that a lot)

But yeah. It really shouldn't matter. At least I hope not <3

#my fics

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 11 days

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5. The First Draft: Just Write.

Finally—the notorious writing!

There’s no right or wrong way to write. I know there are countless guides on writing and outlining and whatnot and they absolutely do have merit, but since you’re just starting: just write.

At this point, you’ve already done most of the things a more seasoned writer does more consciously: you developed your idea, you have your plot, and you more or less know where you’re going. That’s all you need, so let’s start writing. Honestly, don’t be shy—open a new document and write down what comes to your mind. You can worry about style and expertise later. For now, you just want to put your ideas into proper words and sentences and bring your plot together. You can start from the beginning and work your way down to the end, but nothing’s keeping you from starting wherever you like. Maybe you want to write that one scene you can visualise so clearly first, or start with the very last sentence of your fic. You can put all the pieces together later. Again: Do whatever works best for you!

As you write you’ll run into issues. A scene might not quite work out or requires some more prelude. A sentence might sound weird. You might realise that your plot has holes. Don’t hang yourself up on these things—you can always solve those problems later. And then you’ll run into more issues, but you’ll solve those, too. Don’t worry about anything but writing for now—I’m actually proposing you be a little mindless here! In your first draft, you’re usually just dumping everything you have, so, naturally you’ll think it’s the Worst Thing That’s Ever Been Written, but it’s not. You made something from nothing and you will make that something into a Good Thing: a finished draft, a great story. The real magic happens when you revise your draft, sometimes over and over again.

“But what if the words won’t come, Emi? And what if you’re wrong and I break every writing rule in existence?” You ask.

I say: Fuck the rules. Fuck around and find out! Nobody’s gonna send you to writing prison (though, there might be some people who DO think they’re the writing police. But fuck them, too, honestly. Of course, there’s a huge difference between constructive criticism and policing you!).

Maybe you’ve heard of the phrase “It was a dark and stormy night.”? It’s part of the opening line of a 19th-century novel, and people love to talk shit about it. This phrase is generally known to be a synonym for “bad writing” (especially bad fanfic writing, these days); it’s “too much tell, no show”—but we don’t care about that. “It was a dark and stormy night.” is a great phrase. You want to make words? Well, then give me words. Tell me everything. Tell me what colour the curtains were, and tell me exactly how that tree looked and how that character felt when they got incinerated by the “full, concentrated power of the sun”. The night was dark and stormy, you say? Cool. What else was it? What night are we talking about? Who was there? What did they do? Were they alright once morning came?

If you don’t want to tell me, tell yourself, then….and oh, look at that! You filled another page with beautiful words. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t end up using all those words in your final draft (you won’t), but it matters that you wrote and got a feeling for them. It also matters that you can explain to me or—even better yet—yourself why those words were necessary, while others were not. That’s how you go from just writing to finding your style, what you like and what you don’t like. You’re the first reader of your story and it’s only natural to be your own worst critic but don’t let it get to your head. Writing is all about figuring things out—so keep asking your questions!

Now that you got down to writing, your questions will change. While you started out asking your ideas “What happens next and why?”, you’ll now ask yourself “Does this line sound good? Wait…does it even make sense? Oh, what if I found a different word for this?”—and that’s exactly where you want to be. See? You’re doing just fine!

Next: Art or Garbage?

Masterlist

#emis fic guide #part 5

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proceduralpassion · 8 months

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Depth Over Distance

Prompt: Day 1 Of Narcoctober - Create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before

Characters: Mika Camarena x Brother!OC (Michael Luna)

CW: language, discussions of grief/death

WC: ~2.2K

A/N: Hiiii friends, my first Mika fic! Credit to @nocturnal-milk-dud for the pic above. Also, if you've read my IWBSS series, you're probably already familiar with my OC Michael Luna, who's actually Mika's older brother. Had so much fun writing their sibling dynamic and a little insight into how Michael winds up in Colombia. Hope you enjoy 💖

“Just the person I wanted to see.”

“Michael!” Mika exclaimed in both surprise and excitement. It’d been a while since she’d seen her older brother, a steady presence in her life for as long as she could remember. His position as an agent for the Mexico Interpol field office kept him busy, but that wasn’t why he’d been keeping his distance.

The two of them basked in their hug before taking a seat next to one another and looking out at the baseball practice field. The park may as well have been a second home for her with how often she was here for her oldest son’s practices and games.

“How’ve you been? Work must be keeping you busy, mano.”

Michael shrugged, “It’s never not, unfortunately.”

She hummed in response. They were no strangers to sitting in silence, savoring how the quiet was an easier kind of forgiveness. Their relationship didn’t allow for conflict or discord. It was effortless even at its inception. Maybe it was the decade length of age difference, but Mika and Michael had never been the type of siblings to fight.

“How’s he doing?” Michael asks, nudging his chin towards his oldest nephew.

“Better. He’s been putting a lot more power behind those swings,” Mika sighs, “I’m glad he has the outlet. He needs it.”

She had planned on taking him out for the season after Kiki’s passing, but he begged for her to keep him in. Now, as she watched him pour every ounce of grief into his swings, she wanted to kick herself for ever thinking of the idea. Somehow, the conscience inside his little body craved for something he hadn’t realized he would need. An outlet.

Mika chuckles to herself, wishing she had one of those. Some kind of avenue to channel every emotion bouncing in the recesses of her heart and mind. But every second of every day was dedicated to making sure her boys would and could grow up without such a vital figure in their lives. Anything less than 100% was unacceptable to her.

Michael coming to these games might’ve been the only adult interaction she got these days. Her life had become a precise routine, down to the hour, and she never veered from it, too afraid that the facade of togetherness would shatter with any detour. She clinged to the sense of normalcy and warmth she got from their bleacher seat conversations, even if they were of the most mundane topics. And mundane they were.

Michael’s way of helping his little sister grieve was to simply not bring it up. She had more than enough people asking if she was alright, he figured. So he didn’t ask. He was patient with her and comforting during those moments when it all felt like too much and she needed a good cry. Otherwise, he carried on as usual. The first practice after Kiki’s funeral, Michael sat down next to her and started talking about some new television show he started watching called Murder, She Wrote and how he confused Angela Lansbury with Agatha Christie.

It’s the first time she bursts into laughter since she became a widow. She calls him an idiot and explains that they are indeed two different people, though Angela had starred in a film based on Agatha’s novel. Later that week, she watches an episode of Murder, She Wrote so she can discuss the episode with him.

Another week, he brings polvorones. He notices she’s losing weight and this is his silent way of getting her to recuperate her appetite. She’s never been able to resist the crumbly shortbread sweets and smiles to himself when she takes the bag from him and hogs them all to herself.

Ever perceptive, she knows the intentions behind the gesture, but doesn’t acknowledge it beyond obnoxiously licking her fingers after finishing them all.

“What if I wanted more?” He jokes.

“Too bad.”

He holds his youngest nephew in his arms as Mika rounds up her oldest, adrenaline-drunk son. He should be dead tired after the lively game under this scorching sun, but his team won and he’s still amped up as they walk back to their cars.

Her youngest babbles in baby talk and Michael indulges by nodding his head, as if actually following along with whatever the infant is trying to convey.

Mika catches it and remarks, “He could be telling you that he thinks your goatee looks like a ferret on your chin and there you are, nodding and smiling like a doofus.”

He looks at his nephew, seemingly ignoring his little sister’s comical dig, “What do you think, sobrino? No más polvorones para tu madre, ¿bien?”

Mika’s eyes widened, “Wait, nevermind. He said that’s a nice shirt you’re wearing today.”

All in all, she’s not sure she’d be keeping it together if not for her big brother. It’s only once a week that she usually sees him, but the other six days are filled with longing. It’s like she crawls desperately every day so that she can get to the day where she finally sees him.

He’s been less present this past month. Skipping practices and games, leaving vague voicemails on her machine in the aftermath. When she does get to see him, he’s more withdrawn which is saying a lot coming from a man of so few words already. She doesn’t breach the topic. Namely, it’s because she’s got a lot going on as a young widow and mother, but also because Michael’s not the kind of person you cajole or nag on. He’ll come to you when he’s ready but will blow away like a leaf if you push him too hard.

It’s annoying, but again, they’re the kind of siblings who roll their eyes at each other, rather than fully air their grievances and argue.

“I’ve got a job offer in Medellin, Colombia.”

When she learns of Kiki’s death, it’s like the noxious feeling that takes over you when you jump out of a plane with no parachute. Your stomach doesn’t drop, but your senses are swiped from you. You can’t see because grief is like the air that blasts into your eyes. You can’t hear because your ears have just been violently assaulted with the worst news of your life. If you touch anything, it’s like you’re grasping nothingness because how else are your hands supposed to act when they know they’ll never touch their lover again?

When Michael tells Mika he’s leaving, it’s more like a rollercoaster. There is a drop in her stomach. She feels nauseous. Her stomach roils in spirals.

With her husband’s death, it was a long, unidirectional descent that left her fractured in pieces when the news landed on her.

With her brother leaving, it’s like the sudden drops, the highs and lows, and loops of a rollercoaster.

She’s proud because she knows how hard he works at his job.

Loop.

She’s angry because he’s leaving for an entirely different country and that solid mass of reliance that she’s had for the past four months is leaving with him.

Loop.

She’s scared out of her mind because how is she supposed to function now that she’s realized he’s become a crux?

Another fucking loop.

She only nods when she finally digests the news enough to form a response.

But when he follows her home, something he hasn’t done before, she slaps him two steps into stepping into the house.

And then she goes to grab him an ice pack in short order, because shit she didn’t mean to do that even though it kinda felt good. He takes it and they sit on the couch together once the boys are in bed for the night. Michael hasn’t taken the ice pack to his face at all in the couple of hours since she slapped him. Finally, she takes it from his grasp and holds it in the hand that she striked across his face. All this time, it’s been sore and she presses the mostly water but still somewhat chilly pack onto it.

“That shit hurt, didn’t it?”

Mika laughs and laughs until the queasy feeling in her stomach is replaced by aches from the overuse of her accessory muscles in snickering loudly at his comment. She cackles even more as she notes the red hand print forming on his cheek, knowing that it probably hurt as much for him as it did for her. He’s just too fucking prideful and that’ll never change.

Once her laughter finally leaves the room, Michael heaves a heavy sigh.

“I don’t have to leave for another month. And Christmas isn’t that far away when you think about so… I’ll be home, then.”

Christmas is six months away and she already struggles through the other six days of the week that she doesn't see him.

She could tell him not to go, but to her, that would be admitting weakness and he’s already the one person that doesn’t pity her or treats her with kid gloves. And she is feeling pretty weak right about now, and she knows that he knows it, but it’s different when you have to verbally admit that.

She also tells him not to go because she knows that he’ll stay.

When she was six, she watched a horror movie called El Monstruo resucitado even after the warnings from her parents not to. They were out having dinner with friends and only her and Michael were home. He comes out into the living room to see her cowering in the corner at the image of the disfigured creature who possessed the eponymous character. Sure, like any other sixteen year old brother would do, he laughed and teased her for being afraid of some dumb movie, but later that night, his face veers into resolute seriousness when she finally breaks and tearily begs for him to sleep at the foot of her bed so that the monster man doesn’t come to hurt her.

His back feels like shit the next morning and he still continues teasing her when she gets in trouble from her parents for watching the movie, but she knows then that he would do anything he asked of her.

She had a will right now, in the present day, not to break no matter how much the rope of her composure bent. And damn, did she want to break.

But if there was anything else that kept her glued into one piece these days, it was rage.

Rage at the ones responsible for her husband’s death. Rage at the existence of drug cartels. Rage that they wielded such strong enough power to rot out the heart of entire families. Leaving them in shades of gray and blue from the lack of oxygen and the rush of anguish and despair that came in to replace it from the air.

The drug trade was as interconnected and intricate as the labyrinth webs that spiders spun. And their touch was just as covert and venomous. There were ties between the Guadalajara cartel and Medellin cartel that necessitated relationships between the law enforcement agencies trying to sever them. A man with Michael’s accomplishment and knowledge was the perfect person needed in Colombia as the cobwebs grew.

If that led to the takedown of not only the men who murdered her beloved but also all the other scum just like him, then she opined that he absolutely needed to go.

Michael knows that his little sister will stand on her own two feet and continue carrying herself, carrying her boys forward into this new, harrowing chapter of their lives. He doesn’t doubt for a second that they’ll be okay and he acknowledges as much when he says, “Do me a favor and make an individual tres leche just for me on Christmas. Don’t tell her I said that, but I hate when mamá puts all those mangos in it.”

And because that’s their “thing”, she jokes, “I’ll tell her and put extra mangos when I make it for you.”

She’s not sure where she goes from here, but she’s got two young boys relying on her and a husband whose demise deserves retribution.

She leans on her brother as they watch an episode of Murder, She Wrote together while night blankets the sky outside. If there’s any source of strength that she can gain from what’s probably their last night of one-on-one bonding, she’s quick to cipher it for all of its worth.

They’ve said “I love you” to each other maybe a handful of times in their lifetime. They don’t say it now. It doesn’t need to be said.

She can’t see what the other end of the tunnel looks like.

The light’s too dim and she’s all alone. But if she closes her eyes and listens closely enough, she can hear him, hear Michael’s voice.

Where life takes her next, she’s gotta do it alone. But she knows he’ll always be the one to catch her before she falls. The one who protects her from monsters and demons, even the ones taking hold in her head.

Two thousand miles of space between them could never change that.

It was always depth over distance for them.

Click here if you want to be added to my taglist! Taglist: @asirensrage @narcosfandomdiscord

#narcos mexico #mika camarena #mika camarena x oc #narcoctober #c: michael luna

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lokis-army-77 · 2 years

Text

Safe With Me Pt. 1

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4005

This is a fix-it fic of season four of Stranger things. It follows the show, for the most part, I have just changed a few things so that I could add the character of the Reader.

Warning: Language, description of death. Let me know if there are any more. This series will have smut in it eventually.

Main Masterlist (taglist linked here) Series Masterlist

Next >>

A loud banging at my front door woke me up from my usual Saturday off-work sleep-in. Groaning, I lifted my pillow over my head to drown out the noise. It didn’t help any when my mother came into my room and pulled the pillow away from me.

“Sweetheart, a couple of your friends are at the door. They say it’s important.” She informed me sweetly before leaving me to get up.

I twisted my head to look at my alarm clock. 12:25. “Ugh.” I sighed as I pushed myself out of bed and quickly pulled on one of the Iron Maiden t-shirts I had stolen from my boyfriend and a pair of acid wash jeans before heading to the door.

“What in hell are you guys doing waking me up on my day off work?” I glared at the two people standing on the front steps.

“Uh, it’s about Eddie,” Dustin said carefully.

“What about him?” I asked, yawning into my hand.

“Do you know where he is?” Max asked.

“If he isn’t at his trailer, then I have no clue where he is?”

“How do you not know where your boyfriend is?” Dustin’s tone shot up in disbelief.

“I’m sorry? He usually comes by here at one on Saturdays to pick me up, so he should be here soon if you really need to see him.” I crossed my arms, as they stared at me. “What?”

“That’s just it, he isn’t coming.”

“Dustin, I literally just woke up, I’m in no way able to comprehend why you are being so cryptic.”

“I’m not being cryptic, I’m telling you he isn’t coming.”

“And why wouldn’t he?”

Dustin leaned to look behind me into my house before grabbing my arm and pulling me out onto the steps before reaching behind me to slam the front door closed.

“What the fuck Henderson?”

“Have you not seen the news? Have your parent’s not told you?”

“Told me what?” I looked to Max as she spoke.

“Eddie is suspected of killing Chrissy Cunningham.”

My eyes went wide and my hand covered my mouth. “This better be some really sick joke you two, because it isn’t funny.” I shook my head at them.

“It isn’t a joke. I woke up this morning to cops and people surrounding Eddie’s trailer. All I know is that last night Chrissy went into the trailer with him and he drove off like a mad man ten minutes later.” Max paused.

Stunned, I stood there for a second. I remember he called me last night after Hellfire saying he was making a deal with one of the cheerleaders and he would see me Saturday afternoon, but other than that, I hadn’t heard anything else.

Then Max spoke again in a whisper, “Something weird happen too, at first the TV started to ask crazy but as I went to fix it, all the lights in the trailer started to flicker.”

“You don’t mean this might have something to do with the upside down do you?” I asked, hoping that wasn’t what she was insinuating.

“It’s the only other explanation, and we both know Eddie would never kill anybody.” Dustin grabbed at my shoulders.

I closed my eyes to think. I had never wanted Eddie to get involved with this other world under Hawkins crap. I had been unwillingly dragged into it a few years ago when Jonathan Byers asked for my help finding his brother since I was their next-door neighbor. I thought this was all over after Starcort, so I just didn’t mention it to Eddie, knowing if he were to find out about it, he would either freak out or dive into it and not even think about graduating.

Taking a breath, I said, “I, uh, I might know where he is, but I have no clue where where he is might be.”

“That makes literally no sense.” Dustin sighed.

“Eddie’s never taken me with him but I know sometimes he hides out at Reefer Rick’s, the guy he gets drugs from.”

I looked between the two kids and jumped back in surprise when Dustin made an “Ah-ha!”

“What?”

“Put your shoes on, we’re gonna need some help.”

…...

“So why are we here?” I ask, looking up at the Family Video store sign.

“We need help and Steve and Robin are perfect. Plus we need a whole lot of phones if we are going to find Rick’s address.” Explained Dustin as he threw open the front door.

“How many phones do you have?” He asked as he made his way to the counter.

Robin and Steve looked surprised to see the three of us bounding into the store.

“Uh, three?” Steve said questioningly.

“Technically four if you count Kieth’s in the back.” Chimed Robin.

“Why?” They both asked at the same time.

Dustin didn’t answer, he only threw his duffel bag over the counter and hopped over after, knocking over everything on the counter. I stood back and watched as Max went to the back to grab the third phone and Dustin start typing away on the video store computer.

“What are you doing?” Cried Steve.

“We’re setting up base of operations.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. Someone was murdered, you can’t be playing here Henderson, it's Saturday, our busiest day.”

“We aren’t playing, Steve, this is life or death.” Dustin’s tone was deadly serious.

“What do you need the computer for? Get off of there.” Steve tried to remove Dustin from the stool he was on.

“I’m looking up Eddie’s friend’s phone numbers.”

Steve gave Robin a look before finally making eye contact with me. “Oh great, is that why his girlfriend is here too?”

“Hey, don’t talk about me like I'm not standing right here.” I gasped, finally making my way around the counter to join them.

Steve eyed me, hands on his hips. “How do we know you aren’t an accomplice, hum?”

I shoved his shoulder, “I can't believe you would say that, especially after I helped you at Starcourt. Eddie didn’t kill anyone and if I had helped with it, I wouldn’t even be here. Max, hand me a phone, I’ll start with the numbers I know.” I reached out my hand and Max gave me the phone closest to her.

Ignoring the others and their bantering, I started to call the boys in Corded Coffin. If anyone knew where Rick’s house was, it would most likely be them. One after one, I called them and no one knew a thing. They all said the same thing, that they knew off Reefer Rick, but it was just rumors and apparent urban legends. That's what the others got for answers when they called the rest of what could be called Eddie’s acquaintances.

“This is useless, no one knows a thing about this guy.” I sighed as I set the receiver down. It had been hours since we started calling.

“Yeah, literally nobody knows. We’ve called like fifty people and most of those were leads that other people gave us.” Max sighed.

“Do we have at least a last name?” Robin asked.

“No, he’s just some legend around town.” I sighed.

“Bet the cops have a last name.” I heard Steve mutter from the front of the store.

“What? Steve, you can’t be serious, the cops?” I asked incredulously.

“Hey, all I’m saying is that if he is a drug dealer he has to have been caught at some point, which means the cops will have him in the system. Simple.”

“No, not simple,” Dustin argued. “We can’t go to the cops.”

“I think at this point they should be filled in on what we know.” Steve threw his hands up.

“You think Eddie is guilty, don't you?” I could feel the seething anger bubbling up inside of me as Steve scoffed.

“Wait for a second, I didn't say that, I believe in innocent until proven guilty, I just think that the cops should know what is going on. We can’t rule out that he didn’t not do it.”

“What the fuck man? That is exactly what we are trying to do. And even if you can’t believe it, I do, my Eddie wouldn’t do something like that.” I turned away from him, walking away from the group for a second to calm my nerves.

Stepping back over, I watched as Robin’s face lit up.

“Wait a second.” Robin put shoved her phone away from her on the counter. “We are going about this all wrong.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, if we got the information to call all of these people from our database, then shouldn’t we be able to figure out if one of the Ricks in the system is Reefer Rick? I’m sure we can figure it out based on what movies they have rented.”

“Robin, oh my god, you are a genius.” I smiled and followed her to the computer along with everyone else.

Quickly, she typed in the name Rick into the customer search bar and amazingly twelve active accounts pulled up. One by one we clicked on them and watched as their recent rentals popped up on the screen. The first few were duds, but Rick five, Rick Lipton, was a hit. No one who wasn’t either a stoner or on any other drugs would have rented the first three Cheech and Chong movies.

“The address is 2121 Holland Road. That’s out by Lover’s Lake.” I pointed at the address on the screen.

“In the middle of nowhere.” Observed Max.

“It’s the perfect place to hide.” Robin slid off of the stool and smiled.

“Good work,” I gave her a high five. “Now, we need to get there fast, it will be dark soon.”

Quickly we all began gathering up our things while Steve took care of the two customers that were still in the store. Thankfully, they didn’t take too long to check out. Then in a matter of minutes, we were all piling into Steve’s car and hauling ass out of the parking lot.

…….

It was dark by the time we reached Rick’s lake house. The yard looked overgrown and there were no lights on in or around the cabin.

“This place gives me the creeps,” I said as I clambered out of the back seat and onto the gravel driveway.

“Yeah, not the most welcoming of places,” replied Robin as she came to stand beside me.

After each of us grabbed a flashlight from Dustin’s bag we walked up to the front door. Dustin started to right the doorbell but when there was no answer, he began to knock erratically, yelling for Eddie. As the group tried to figure out how to get inside, I moved to look around the other side of the house.

There, down by the water was a boat house with the light on on the outside of the door. “Guys, I think we should check that out.” I looked over at the others. Slowly they left the porch and followed where I was pointing my finger.

Shivering as we made our way down to the boat house, I felt my heart start to beat harder and louder in my chest. It felt like I was in a Friday the 13th movie and I was definitely walking straight into a trap.

I was the first through the door, “Hello?” I called out into the silence. “Eddie?”

The others followed suit, calling out for Eddie in case he was hiding. Dustin called out, telling him we were there to help.

Slowly, so as to not trip over all the junk on the floor, I walked to the left side of the boat, which was suspended over the water in the middle of the building. The other two girls followed me and the two boys went to the right.

I shone my flashlight behind every nook and cranny on the wall, moving boxes and tools around to check behind them, but Eddie was nowhere.

There was a table beside the wall, to which Max called me and Robin over. “Someone was here, look.” She held up an empty food wrapper. I picked up one of the beer bottles that was half finished and sniffed it.

“The beer is still fresh, it has to be Eddie.” I place the bottle back down, voice wavering.

“Maybe we spooked him and he ran.” Suggested Robin, “He can’t have gone far.”

I nodded, trying to stop myself from wedding tears at the moment. I couldn’t help but be worried for him though.

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar.” Dustin deadpanned as Steve kept hitting the tarp in the boat with a wooden oar.

“Considering that everyone in here has almost died multiple times, I don't find what you said funn-” Steve’s banter was cut off by him and Dustin shrieking.

I jumped at the loud bang of feet hitting the ground and Steve’s yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” He screamed before he was slammed against the metal wall. I watched this all from the other side of the building.

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled, trying to grab his attention away from hiring Steve. “Eddie, it’s me, Dustin, I’m here to help. That’s Steve, he isn’t going to hurt you. Please.” He held his hands out so Eddie could see he had no weapons on him.

I quickly ran to the other side, saying Eddie’s name softly, but he hadn’t heard me.

Dusting quickly talked Eddie down, but when Steve dropped the oar, it spooked Eddie again. He was tense and shaken.

“What are you doing here?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“We came to find you. To help you.” He pointed to Robin and Max, explaining who they were, before shrinking his flashlight at me, he said my name as he did so. To see me, Eddie had to turn his head completely away from Steve, which he was hesitant to do.

When his eyes met mine, I saw him visibly relax. “Eddie, baby, step away from Steve, please.” I pleaded. He turned back to Steve and tensed a little bit.

“Eddie, I swear on my mother, we are not here to hurt you.” Called Dustin, the others agreed in a chorus of swears.

Finally, Eddie moved away from Steve and moved to crouch down against the wall. Letting the tears finally spill over, I ran to him, kneeling down in front of him. I almost cried harder when he flenched away from my hands as they came out to take the busted beer bottle away from him.

When I tried a second time, he let me and I threw it to the ground before pulling him into a hug.

“Eddie,” I cried. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His arms were so tight around me that I thought he would crush my ribs.

“I-i-i don’t know. I d-don’t know what’s going on.” He clung to me, whispering into my ear.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.” I pulled away slightly, bringing my right hand up to cup his cheek, smoothing over his skin with my thumb.

Dustin crouched down beside us and began to talk softly. “Eddie, we just wanna talk.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, “We want you to tell us what happened.”

Eddie eyed them suspiciously before looking back at me. I nodded, confirming that they were telling the truth. “It’s okay baby, you can tell us.” He looked close to tears as he shook in my arms. I smoothed his wild hair away from his face, trying to calm him down some more.

“You won’t believe me,” His voice wavered in a way I had never known it. Filled with fear and doubt. It broke my heart that the thought I wouldn’t believe him, wouldn’t understand.

“Try us.” Something in Max’s tone must have struck something in Eddie because his eyebrows furrowed and he took a deep breath before moving so he could stand and pace the floor.

He stood before us nervously, clasping and unclasping his hands together and shifting his weight on his feet before sitting back down on a box. “Um, well uh. You see, Chrissy had asked for a deal and we were gonna do that after school, but she didn’t exactly want weed. So after the D&D campaign and the basketball, she met me at my van and I took her back to my place to find her something stronger.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie, why would you sell Chrissy Cunningham something stronger than weed?’ Well, you didn’t see how scared and paranoid she was, usually, I don’t sell the strong stuff, but every once in a while,” He shrugged his shoulders but continued. “ We got to my place and she stayed in the living room while I went to go find what she wanted, but when I came back, it was like she was in a trance, asleep with her eyes open, just standing there.

“It was fucking creepy and then out of nowhere her body just like lifted up into the air and, uh, she just like hung there. In the air. And her bones uh-” Eddie sounded close to gagging as he recounted how Chrissy’s bones started to snap and break, the sounds he described were enough to even make me feel a bit queazy.

“And, and, her eyes man, it was like something was in her head, pulling her eyes back into her skull. I, I didn’t-t know what to do so I-I ran away. I left her there.” Eddie's hand covered his mouth as he stopped talking.

Slowly I scooted my way to him, taking his hands in mine and holding them tight, He looked down at me with sad, distant eyes. Leaning up, I whipped a stray tear away from his cheek.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” He choked back.

“No Eddie, we don’t think that. I don’t think that.” I stared up at him as I spoke in a soft voice.

“Don’t fucking bullshit me. Come on, I know how this sounds,” Eddie raised his voice, pulling away from me. I shrunk back, giving him some room.

“We aren’t bullshitting you.” Max pushed.

“We believe you,” Robin added.

Eddie scoffed, holding his head in his hands.

“Eddie look, what we are about to tell you might be a little difficult to take in.” Dustin started.

“Okay?” Eddie looked up at the group through his bangs.

“You know how people say that Hawkins is cursed? They aren’t entirely wrong. There is a completely other world. A world that is hidden beneath Hawkins.” As Dustin started to explain the upside down to Eddie, I watched as his face contorted into confusion. Every so often he would look from Dustin to the other faces in the group and then land on me. We were all nodding along to what Dustin said, agreeing with him.

“What do you mean? Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

I shook my head. “There are many things way worse than ghosts.”

“There are monsters, evil, grotesque monsters from this other world. We all have faced off against them before. We thought they were gone, thought everything was safe again. But they have come back before and that’s why we needed to find you” Dustin Continued.

“Eddie, baby, if they are back, we need to know. Did you see anything weird that night, other than what happened to Chrissy?” I asked.

He shook his head as the others started to name off tail-tale signs of the upside down leaking into our world. “No, no, no, there was nothing you could see, noting you could touch. She was just standing there. I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t budge. Like she was in a trance.”

“A spell.” Dustin thought aloud.

“Curse,” Eddie added.

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin realized.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath. If that is what we were dealing with this time, I have no clue what we are going to do.

“Wait, who is Vecna?” asked Steve.

“He’s an undead creature of great power,” Dustin explained.

“A spell caster,” said Eddie.

“A dark wizard.” I finished.

“Wait, hold on.” Eddie stopped us. “Why are we talking about a D&D character?”

“Well,” I started, scooting back closer to him. “Every monster we have faced has been eerily similar to the monsters in D&D. Comparing them and naming them after those counterparts gives us something to go off of when we fight them, but Vecna?” I looked into Eddie's eyes and then back at Dustin. “I’m not sure we can deal with this on our own.”

There was a short moment of silence, where no one moved or said anything, the weight of the situation coming down on all of us.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um guys, it’s getting kinda late, I think we should get going.”

The group nodded, but I stayed where I was. “I’m not leaving Eddie by himself, you guys can go without me.”

“But-.”

“No buts Dustin, I’m staying. Look,” I sighed, “I’ll fill Eddie in on the bast couple of years and you guys can go grab food for him tomorrow. Now go.” I shooed them off and they went without a fight, all waving goodbye.

Eddie and I were quiet for a while after we heard Steve’s car pull off down the road. The only sound around us was the chirping of crickets and the sloshing of water.

“You should have gone with them. I’d be okay by myself.” Eddie finally muttered.

I was leaning against the side of the box he was sitting on, so I laid my bed back to look up at him.

“I would never dream of leaving you alone out here after what you have been through.”

“But your parents.”

“What about them? I am almost twenty years old Eddie, I can do what I want.”

A beat passed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded hurt.

I looked at my hands, picking dirt from under my fingernails nervously.

“I’m sorry. I- I thought it was all over, I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m your boyfriend, I think I deserve to know when you go around fighting otherworldly monsters.”

“I know, I know and I am sorry. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. We all have almost died more times than we can count and I couldn’t do that to you, knowingly put you in danger.”

“Died? You almost died?” He was angry, understandably so. I turned around to look at him, he was looking back at me, eyes boring into my soul. “What do you think I would have done if you had died? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Eddie, please.” I tried to plead.

“No, don’t Eddie me. I- you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and hearing from you that you almost died, more than once.” He didn’t even finish the sentence, he only scoffed and turned away.

“I really don’t want to fight you on this Eddie, it’s over and done with.”

“Then go.”

“No.”

“Go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“God, you are so fucking frustrating.”

“Look, I am going to tell you everything right now. I know it doesn’t make up for the fact that I didn’t tell you after it happened, but you need to know it all now.”

“Fine.”

“Can you sit down here with me?” I was getting kinda lonely sitting on the floor with him on the box behind me. I wanted to hold him, to know he was there with me and not somewhere far away.

He said nothing as he slowly lowered himself to the floor beside me. And even though we had just fought, he laid his head down in my lap, wrapping his arms around my legs as he spread out on the boat house floor. Smiling, I began to play with his hair as I recounted all the messed-up shit that happened over the last three years.

Eddie Taglist: @loveofmylife12@ellabellabus07@wickedwitchofwest@siriusstwelveyears@ameliakf13 @milly-louise @darkscrossfire @harrypotter-posts @dedeinspire

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #fix it fic #stranger things

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