The thing is, when people interact with me about my stories, it gives me the drive to work on them. Even if it’s just a sentence, or a bit of editing. It’s putting enough fuel in the tank to get to the next gas station, so to speak.
It’s you friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:
I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.
And if I somehow come across mention of you doing this, I am going to track the author down, let them know, and proceed to make sure people know what kind of dirt-bag you are.
Look, I’ve been reading fic on the internet practically for about 25 years, and I have encountered many a fic I would murder several first borns to know what happens next.
I also -unfortunately- am also responsible for a few unfinished fics out there, but I want you to hear me loud and clear:
NOTHING IS ABANDONED.
I’m just working on other shit like trying to be a person, you know.
But it’s very simple: if you want to know what happens next in anything I have up, unfinished:
ASK ME.
I actually have shit written, I have outlines, I have hundreds of thousands of words stuck inside me I will vomit all over a person if even marginally asked.
Just ask my poor partner who got to listen to me talk about a massive reveal I have been sitting on for 10-15 years. (…oh Amy Bradshaw, I was merciless to you.)
I promise you right now with 1000% surety: no AI exists that will ever figure ANY of the turns I have planned.
Mind, I also know my shit is so niche and specific the likelihood of someone trying this is slim. But just fucking don’t for ANYONE.
glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?
face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?
stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?
motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?
stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?
canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?
CUT & CLOTHES
night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?
day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?
formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?
informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?
outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?
footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?
road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?
armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?
arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?
roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?
texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?
wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?
ACCESSORIES & ACCENTS
bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?
hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?
makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?
favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?
change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?
alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!
SUMMARY: Tai makes a new friend. Clint realizes yet again that a pretty face makes him pretty stupid.
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Clint/OFC
WORD COUNT: 4,394
WARNINGS: Sexual thoughts, non-sexual use of the term "daddy"
A/N: Happy Christmas and a VERY happy Hawkeye finale everyone!
Tag List: @carissime72
Okay... This looked bad.
"How can you be so unprepared?!" Eris shouted in frustration.
"You're the one who rushed into this with no plan!"
"You never have a plan! I have two masters degrees and a wealth of scientific knowledge!"
"Yeah well, I'm the one who's actually been there!"
"And look where it's gotten us!
"You don't even know where we're going!"
"Neither do you, apparently! You do this every time, and it always ends up an unmitigated disaster!"
"Name one time!"
"Siberia."
"You always bring up Siberia!"
"I lost half a toe to frostbite, Francis. Just let me put in the directions so I can navigate!"
"No!"
"You're such a child!"
"Says the child!"
"Ugh!"
Eris crossed her arms with a huff, letting the car descend into a tense silence. The car ride was a long one, but it should have been simple. Instead, Clint had let the woman next to him take up too much of his thoughts, and they had taken a wrong turn somewhere around the three hour mark.
"Damnit, I need to focus." Clint muttered the words with a shake of his head. But in the quiet of the car, his thoughts couldn't help but return to Eris. "Can you just... I don't know, talk or something? It's too damn quiet in here."
Eris perked up at the request. "Of course! Have you heard there's a new superhero bounding around Queens? Get this: he uses webs to fly around the city! I've been so curious about the tenacity of his webs so I've been working on a replication serum..."
Clint let out a deep breath as Eris's excited rambling washed over him. It was familiar, soothing in a way that he was no longer comfortable with. He had always loved hearing her talk about her work. Settling against his seat, Clint recalculated his trajectory, and brought them back on course.
Now if only he knew what he would do when he got there.
After another hour of driving, Clint caught sight of the subtle security set up far past their destination's perimeter. A short vibration from his pocket confirmed his presence had been noted, and he knew there was no going back now. A brief moment of panic flared inside Clint. Having his past and present meet hadn't been on his mind when he decided on this course of action last night, but the potential disaster that would ensue was now staring him in the face. He had to prepare Eris for what they would be walking into.
With one quick movement, Clint put the car in park in the middle of the empty road and turned to Eris, cutting off her chatter. "Look, before we get any farther, I need to tell you something about what I've been doing since I left the Underground."
Whatever he was expecting as a response from Eris, laughter wasn't it. "I think I have an idea of what you've been doing, Hawkeye." Her laughter petered off, and she poked his arm impatiently. "Now come on, we really shouldn't be stopping until we get to wherever your friend is."
He shook himself from the shock and started up the car once more. After a few moments, he couldn’t help but question, "How did you know?"
Eris scoffed in offense, "The Battle of New York was all over the news for weeks, babe," she shot him a lascivious grin and a wink, "and I would recognize that ass anywhere."
"Huh," Clint blinked and started back up the car, "fair enough, I guess."
They broke through the tree line, and before them loomed a complex of imposing concrete buildings. A stylized 'A' had been affixed to the main compound in recent weeks, and Clint had yet to see it. Stark had officially christened the grounds as the New Avengers Facility, though Clint wasn’t sure if ‘new’ was supposed to be a part of the name or describing it.
"You know, if I thought I was more of a threat, or possibly just smarter in general, I'd be a little more concerned about you bringing me out into the middle of nowhere where only the Avengers and SHIELD will know my location."
He turned to watch Eris take in the grounds. While most others that had arrived had taken to looking at the base in awe—or sometimes even fear—Eris's eyes were calculating, roving over the entirety of each structure and taking in every facet of the compound.
"Right... Well, this is gonna be interesting." Clint muttered. He parked off to the side and, after waiting a beat for Eris to hop out behind him, strolled off to the main compound.
The robotic voice of Stark's pet A.I. sounded off as soon as the pair stepped into the building. "Welcome back, Mr.—"
"JARVIS," Clint interrupted. He couldn't risk Eris finding out his name yet. Nor did he want her knowing any of the other Avengers' identities, "nix the name use right now. We've got a civilian in our midst."
"Ah, yes, of course, sir," the A.I. program conceded. "I presume you've brought your guest for business rather than pleasure, then?"
"Not you too," Clint groaned. "I'm already going to get crap from everyone else about her. Don't you do this to me too."
"My apologies, sir. Mr. Stark was already made aware of your return to the base, and he insisted upon the quip being used in some capacity as your greeting after seeing your companion."
Another sigh escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Just... Where is he?"
"Mr. Stark is in the lower lab. I have already informed him of your impending arrival. He is expecting you."
"Come on." He took Eris by the wrist and gently tugged her in the direction of the stairs. "Might as well lay down a few warnings before we get there. Stark is... well, he's a genius, billionaire ex-playboy. I feel like he can be summed up just from that pretty well. He likes nicknames and clever quips and he's going to inevitably ask how we know each other." Clint let go of her wrist and subconsciously took a small step to put distance between them. "I'd really prefer he not know of your... less than upstanding relationship with the law. Prefer none of the team know about it, if possible."
"It's going to come out if he looks at the data on that flash drive; you know that, right?" Eris whispered in response.
The glass partition to Tony's private lab slid open, AC/DC blasting through the speakers as sparks flew in a shower from underneath a large machine that seemed to be smoking.
"Stark!"
No response came from his teammate.
"STA—" The music cut off abruptly, leaving Clint shouting louder than necessary, "—RK! Thanks, JARVIS; Stark, I've got a problem that needs that brain of yours."
A dramatic groan echoed as Tony slid out from underneath the machinery, "Before you go asking for any favors, Legolas. You're gonna tell me who this pretty, young thing is that you've decided oh-so-graciously to bring into my inner sanctum." He pointed a messy rag at Eris. "Just because she's your girlfriend doesn't mean she gets free access everywhere."
Clint rolled his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend," he droned, already tired of the response. “She's...an old friend from my past that needs help. And we need someone who can hack to help her."
Tony nodded sagely, "Old flames are tricky. I get ya." He turned to face Eris before Clint could make another protest. "Welcome to my humble abode, Miss..."
Eris strode forward, the picture of eager confidence, and took Stark's hand in a firm shake. "Xie Tai, but you can just call me Tai. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Tony Stark."
The surprise that flickered across Tony's face didn't escape Clint's notice, but then those eyes slid over to meet his and—after whatever it was that he saw in Clint’s own expression—Tony smoothed his features back into a mask of charm. "I know it is, but the pleasure is mine too, I can assure you. Now why don't you two explain to me just what it is you need my help with."
Eris took over from there. "Well, for some reason, I'm being threatened. Or, err, offered a job?" Her brows furrowed, eyes cast down as she fingered the flash drive. "I’m being threatened with a job. I think. Honestly, I'm not sure anymore. But I know it can't be good. Someone's been following my movements, my work. Ever since the start of my career—almost 13 years—they've apparently been watching me. And they've only just let me know now, but they won’t tell me who the hell they are. I've tried to get a few contacts to trace the encryption, but they've all refused further communication with me after seeing it." Eris's face fell, but still she held out the flash drive. "Please tell me you can help me with this, Mr. Stark."
“As much as I like hearing you call me Mr. Stark, Tony is fine.” Tony raised one eyebrow at the proffered USB. "So you mean to tell me there's a super mysterious entity who's been watching a gorgeous woman's every move and is so terrifying that no one will go against them? And now she needs my help?" A loud clap sounded as he rubbed his hands together. "This is the best Christmas present a man could ask for."
Tony snatched up the stick and turned on his heel, hurrying over to the large computer setup across the lab. "JARVIS, put back on the music. Katniss, get me some coffee," Stark stretched out interlaced fingers, cracking the knuckles. "Sabrina the Teenage Witch and I got some work to do."
Clint stared at the mad genius for a moment before turning to whisper low to Eris, "I can kill him for that nickname if you want. Nobody has to know. We can just swear we found him that way; he blows himself up often enough."
"Would you rather I called her your girlfriend again?" Tony shouted from across the room. He looked over at the pair, eyes settling in on Eris, and jerked his head in the direction of the computer. "Come on, you're too gorgeous to waste your looks on birdboy over there. And from the way you've been eyeing my lab, something tells me he's having you keep your brains from me as well. So go let your inferior half fetch the coffee and come check out my toys already."
Tony waited several minutes as he began the decryption program, letting his new acquaintance take in the massive computer setup and giving JARVIS enough time to sufficiently distract Clint before he pounced.
“He doesn’t know who you really are, does he?” The woman whipped around at his quiet question, and Tony hurried to explain himself before she could make up an excuse. “I recognized your name as soon as you introduced yourself: Xiè Tai, graduated magna cum laude with a master’s in chemical engineering from MIT at age 17. One of the few people to have done so since myself.” He matched her skeptical look with one of his own. “I keep track of notable prodigies, especially ones that come out of my alma mater.”
She gave him a shrug of concession in return. “Technically, I graduated at 18,” Tai replied dryly. “I continued after getting my M.S.CEP to get another master’s in materials science and engineering as well.”
“Makes sense,” Tony nodded. “You were set to become a huge name in your field, if I remember correctly. Dozens of companies were fighting for you, my own included. But you disappeared off the face of the earth after MIT. No one ever heard from or about you again.” Tony waited for an explanation he knew wouldn’t come, taking her hum of agreement as all the acknowledgement on the subject he would get. “And from the confusion I saw on your ‘friend’s’ face over there,” he nodded toward his teammate, “he has no clue who you are. I’m guessing a fake name?”
“You could say that.”
“Is whatever you’re involved in going to get him into trouble?” Tony asked point-blank.
“It will. And that’s why I need your help. I don’t care that they’re going after me, but I won’t let him get hurt because of it.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Tony began to scroll through the code, then stopped for a minute, turning back to Tai. “I’m guessing from the fact that he knows you by a fake name and that you dropped off the face of the earth that I’m not going to want to peek into these files for plausible deniability reasons?”
Tai grinned, “You’re as smart as people say, Tony.”
“Got it. Chemicals and fun things are over in the corner; go play like a good kid while Daddy takes care of the problem.” As Tai skipped away, he spoke up one more time, just loud enough that he knew it would get Clint’s attention as well, “And for god’s sake, woman, know that if you blow anything up in here in the name of science, I will force you into my employment.”
Clint moved through the motions of his evening routine with angry precision. The sharp snap of every movement sang of his frustration. But frustration over what? The afternoon couldn't have gone better, if he was being honest with himself. Stark's decryption was working its magic, Eris had somehow convinced the nosy genius to not look into the files she had left him on a platter, and nothing important had been blown up from the two of them meeting. Hell, Eris and Tony seemed thick as thieves in no time flat, with Tony eager to show off his toys to the newcomer and Eris eager to play.
So why was he so tense over how everything had gone?
Clint rolled his shoulders experimentally, and looked over toward his bow. Maybe some time in the practice range would help him shake this strange negativity.
For a brief moment, he thought about finding Eris and asking her to join him, but he quickly shut down that desire. He had no idea which guest room Stark had put her up in, and something told him that they were still in the lab where he had left them anyway, with Stark cooing over the design for a volatility suspension matrix Eris had built out of spare parts back home.
No, not Eris. Tai, as Stark kept pointedly calling her. Something in the way he kept saying the name itched at Clint, as if the man knew something he didn't. He couldn't get it out of his head even as he set up the target system in the training room and prepped his bow.
Honestly, if Clint hadn't known any better, he would have sworn that Stark was flirting with Eris. At the very least, he was sure he was trying to flatter and impress her. Was it just to try to hire her? The thought of Eris going on the straight and narrow made his stomach do somersaults, but again, he shut down that sensation.
Deep breath. Draw the bow. Focus on your target.
An image of Tony and Eris whiling away the night in the Stark lab flashed through his mind, and he loosed the bow with a little more force than he intended.
A loud thunk resounded as the arrow drove deep into the center of the bullseye.
"So," Clint relaxed his bow enough to turn and see his best friend heading toward him before returning to his form, "I hear a little birdie brought a guest to our super secret hideout."
Clint scoffed, "Isn't the birdie supposed to be the one telling you things, not getting tattled on?" He loosed the arrow on an exhale, hitting the bullseye. It wasn't the sort of practice that would keep his skill sharp, but it was soothing in its own way, and Clint still held an edge of tension within him after leaving Eris and Stark together in the lab.
"That's her, isn't it?"
A bitter smile crossed his face, and Clint lightly shook his head. Natasha was nothing if not observant; he should have realized she'd have things figured before the night was out. He nocked another arrow and drew his bow again. "Yeah, Nat. That's her." A deep breath, and he loosed again, this time hitting the nock of the first arrow. Natasha was silent where she leaned beside him, the expectant look he knew she was sporting without even looking over made him sigh and pull three arrows from his quiver. "Not sure what it is you're waiting for me say here—you're a spy; you knew the whole situation before you even walked in the room."
"Do you trust her in here despite her background? Or should I update the SHIELD profile with the alias she gave Stark?"
Clint forced a shrug at the question, pretending he hadn't been asking himself the exact same thing. "She tends to have a thing about not owing people, so I doubt she'll try to steal anything outta here until this whole mess is over." He loosed all three arrows, hitting in a perfect line down the center of the target body. "Might blow up the lab though, we leave her down there with Stark any longer."
"Ah, there is it. You're jealous." Despite her deadpan tone, Natasha was goading him, and they both knew it.
He tried to make the side-eye he shot the woman look as incredulous as possible, but it did nothing to counteract either her casual lean against the training ring or the quirk of amusement in her eyebrows. "I'm not jealous. I left someone with a penchant for blowing shit up in a lab full of malfunctioning tech and chemicals. If anything, I'm concerned about our billionaire's life expectancy."
"Because you're gonna use your precious boomerang arrow on him if he keeps flirting with your girlfriend?” She teased, poking him in the arm.
"Not my girlfriend." Clint nocked another three arrows, curious if he could hit all three of the previous shots in one draw.
"Clint."
He sighed and relaxed his bow. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Clint turned to face his best friend. "There's no point in bothering, and you know it. Her and I are on different sides. And there's still the tiny, little detail of she only does what she does to mess with me. I'm a toy to bat at idly when she gets bored. That's it." He kept his voice even, hard-edged. There was no point in getting emotional over nothing, after all. "The only reason she even came to me for help is 'cuz I'm likely the only person outside the Underground that she knows."
He turned and knelt to pack up his equipment. There was no way he was going to relax in here now. Maybe he would be able to convince the Cap to go a few rounds with him though...
"So when are you gonna tell her?"
Nevermind, Clint needed the simulation room at this rate.
Natasha carried on as Clint continued packing. "Maybe it's a sign that she's back in your life."
"You don't believe in signs. And neither do I."
"You know what I mean."
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Nat..." He warned as he stood up, shouldering his gear.
"Fine then," She rolled her eyes, "be miserable for all I care."
"Thank you." Clint gave a slight mocking bow of his head, then turned toward the exit.
"Can I at least meet her?" Nat asked, catching up to him. "I promise I won't arrest her or interrogate her or anything."
"Fine," he grumbled. She was like a bulldog sometimes, "but you're paying for lunch."
The pair made it past the door and into the common room in comfortable silence.
"But seriously, Barton," Nat spoke up only a few feet from Clint's freedom, voice turned hard like it did on missions and a glint in her eye that meant she was ready to start giving orders, "when are you gonna tell her?"
Clint made sure to groan extra loud, "I changed my mind. I need a nap. Or maybe just percussive maintenance on my face until this nightmare ends."
With that, he took off, leaving a laughing Natasha behind. "At least give me a time frame?" she called out once the elevator doors opened. "It's important for the over-under!"
"Του Αγίου Πούτσου ανήμερα!" (translation: 'right on the day of St. Dick's' aka 'fucking never')
Clint didn't even bother to wait for the doors to slide shut before he began hitting his head against the metal paneling over and over: anything to drown out that smug, all-knowing laugh burrowing into his doubts.
Clint let out a heavy breath and dropped his bag to the ground with a metallic clang. With every step he took away from his conversation with Natasha, fear and doubt swirled heavier inside his chest. He wasn't going to shake this feeling doing routine practice. "JARVIS?" he called out. "Initiate Practice Regimen Protocol Zeta."
The training room came alive at the command, launching projectiles and targets through the air. Clint snapped to attention, loosing arrow after arrow from his quiver. He was a flurry of lithe movement and deadly accuracy.
When the chaos died down, Clint was left, crouched and panting, in the center of the room. Each arrow had found its mark and in the exercise Clint had found a sort of peace. He was being ridiculous before. Tony was interested in novelty, and Eris was merely trying to return to her life... as a high-end criminal.
Paranoia spiked as that terrible thought wormed its way into his conscience and took root.
He had brought a criminal into the base. Eris may have been far from the worst of what the Underground had to offer, but he had gotten so swept up in her return to his life that he had forgotten what she was.
And just what damage she could do with access to the tools and data kept within the Avengers' home.
Clint took off as fast as he could without drawing attention to his panic. "JARVIS, where is—" he blanched as he tried to figure out how to address her, "where is my guest currently located?"
"Miss Xiè is in her quarters on the guest floor, room three. Would you like me to inform her of your arrival, sir?"
"No thanks, I've got it from here."
Purposeful steps carried him to his destination, and in his anger, he barged in without knocking.
"Eris, we need to—"
The rest of his thoughts flew from his mind. Bending over in front of him was Eris in a silk romper that left little to his suddenly running-wild imagination. He took a deep breath even as parts of his anatomy urged him to stride forward and follow the lower curve of her ass that peeked out from behind lace and silk until he found her core.
"And here I thought you were a gentleman who knocked," Eris teased as she stood up. "Your friend really is brilliant, you know. It was smart to bring the flash drive to him. I don't think Stark knows the meaning of the phrase 'scared silent.'"
Jesus, how does someone so small have so much leg? he thought before her words registered through the fog clouding his thoughts.
No. He would not be distracted. He had let his guard down around her enough. "Eris, I swear you better be on your best behavior while here. I'm risking everything bringing a criminal into headquarters, okay? Don't make me have to see you as the enemy."
Shock flashed across her face before settling into indignation. "Excuse me? What the hell have I done exactly to make you suddenly treat me like a criminal?"
"You are a criminal, Eris! That's the whole reason we know each other. I used to be a criminal, and you still are one. I just don't want to realize too late it was a mistake bringing you here."
The hurt he saw in her eyes was almost enough to break him, to make him apologize for what he had said. But he had to put his own desires below what it meant to be a SHIELD agent—what it meant to be an Avenger. He couldn't let himself get blinded by his personal affections.
He held onto this mantra as he stared into confused eyes and heard her whisper, "I thought you trusted me."
His heart lurched to hold her, to take back what he'd said and reassure her until she was back to teasing and infuriating him in equal measure. But the agent in him kept him stoic.
"Of course I don't trust you, Eris. I don't know anything about you. I never have, and that's the problem. How can I trust you here when I don't even know your name?"
Eris huffed out a curse in what seemed to be Mandarin as she crossed her arms, surprising Clint. He had no idea she knew the language. "I already told you my name earlier."
That stopped Clint in his tracks. "What?" He racked his brain, trying to remember when she might have told him her name. The only thing he could think of...
"You mean... That wasn't an alias you gave Stark?"
Eris threw her hands up in exasperation, then rubbed her temples, "Jesus, Stark was right: you really had no clue when you heard my name?"
"I didn't realize..."
"Of course you didn't," she scoffed. "You apparently don't think I'm capable of honesty." For the first time ever, Clint saw Eris shutter herself against him. "Go away, Ronin."
Frost clung to his false name, forcing Clint backward. He had no words to make his accusations better, to take back the fears that ate away at his wants and hopes. But he couldn't. Clint walked out the door, turning to close it behind him. He glanced up to catch one last look—say one last word of reassurance. Instead, Clint watched as Eris curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her legs, and cried.
I promise I'm not dead, nor have I given up on this blog. My life this the Year of Our Hell, 2021, was thrown into chaos in multiple ways, and I have had very little chance or capacity to write for fun for most of it.
For the people who submitted to the Tarot Challenge, I want to assure you that I still intend on doing it, preferably by the end of the year, as I very much love all the submissions I received. But I am still recovering mentally from the upheaval my life has gone through. I only ask your patience as I slowly (oh so slowly) return to writing.
That being said, I'm still here! I still am happy to talk about characters, media, and especially my OCs. In fact, I'm planning a little chatter fest later this week because I would love nothing more than to introduce my vast array of original characters to others.
Hopefully I will have something new to post soon for people, especially fans of Discordancy. Until then, I can only thank you for sticking with me even if most of you don't even realize you still follow me.
A/N: A second round of harassment specially written for @nellblazer. This piece is technically a continuation of my previous Chibs/Reader piece, Prayer of a Different Kind, but can be read on its own. Perhaps one day, the middle bit in between these scenes will even make an appearance.
The slick sound you make when Chibs adds a second finger into you is obscene. You bite your lip to keep from keening a whine and grip the headboard harder.
“Tsk, tsk. Now tha’s no' very nice to do, is it?” chides Chibs when he sees your attempt to keep quiet. He stills his hand, shifting over you on the bed to tug the bruised flesh out from where your teeth have trapped it with the other hand. You take the brief moment of tenderness to brush your lips against his thumb, and Chibs smiles. Then, he shifts his grip to grab your chin. “Open wide, luv. I told you I wanted to hear every sound out of that pretty mouth of yours.”
Petal pink lips part upon hearing the command, and two thick, gloved fingers slide into your waiting mouth.
“You know what to do, darlin’.”
You don’t dare to close your mouth, letting your tongue lave against the supple leather to the approving groan of the man above you. But still, Chibs refuses to move the fingers still stuffed deep inside your pussy. It’s not until you clench around them and gift him with the muffled whine you had been keeping in that he picks up again. As soon as the sound escapes around his fingers, Chibs begins to fingerfuck you in earnest, letting slick digits rip choked out gasps and moans from your throat.
“That’s what I like to hear!” The praise is laced with the dark and ragged edge of lust. He lets the two fingers in your mouth slide in deeper until the only noises coming out of you are as slick and wet as the noises between your legs. “Tha’s right, girl. Be a good one now and gag on my fingers the same way you did my cock this mornin’.”
SUMMARY: It's been so long since you've gotten to have some fun with Chibs. Luckily, you know just what to do to convince him.
CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Filip "Chibs" Telford/Reader
WORD COUNT: 245
WARNINGS: smut, sexual intent, praise kink, oral sex (fellatio)
A/N:Lovingly written for the harassment of one @nellblazer.
"Please, baby?" You pout the words between heated kisses left down the column of a stubbled throat. "We haven't had fun in forever."
Chuckling, Chibs pulls you back to his lips. "We've not the time, sweetheart. Church starts soon." He groans as you shift in his lap, letting wandering fingers find their way to work at the zip of his jeans. "Oh no. Don't you start, bloody woman. What did I just say? "
Despite his admonishing tone, Chibs does nothing to stop you as you pull his half-hard cock out. You swallow his groans, stroking him to full hardness until he's rocking his hips into your hand. It's not until you break away to slide down onto your knees that Chibs comes back to his senses.
"What're you doin' now? This is a bad idea." The words come out strangled, but still he tries. "Seriously, s'a bad i— oh, fuck."
The growled curse cuts off his protests as you lick a broad stripe up the length of him. Without thinking, his hands move to card through the messy waves of your hair.
You brush the head across your lips, letting your tongue flick out to meet him, and hum, "You were saying?
"Good girl," Chibs moans out. Letting his head fall back against the wall with a thud, Chibs closes his eyes. He never could remember what point he was trying to make whenever your lips were on his cock. "Very good girl."
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