ireadwithmyears

[ireadwithmyears]

Hi DJ! If you’re still doing the ficlet requests, can I get 24 (cuddles of reassurance) with Wolffe? Maybe fem!reader is having a hard time with sex and feels embarrassed/overwhelmed? (If that’s too explicit/uncomy feel free to ignore :))

Just a Little Bit More

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, Alli! I’ve actually been wanting to write a fic like this for a while. I feel like so much of the smut we see in fanfiction AND in published fiction/media in general is so idealized that even when it has elements of realism, it can present a distorted idea of what sex and intimacy can really be like. I’m certainly guilty of writing somewhat idealized smut, though I do try to maintain at least some semblance of realism (unless Sev is involved; all bets are off with that man). While there’s nothing wrong with having that fantasy, I think it’s healthy and important to also show the reality that it isn’t always easy or flawless, even with a caring, experienced partner who takes our pleasure seriously and does everything “right.”

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.3K of straight smut with some cuddles

Warnings and tags: cuddles; hurt comfort; language; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; nipple play; light/playful spanking; body worship; sex toys; fingering; exhibitionism; voyeurism; creampie; difficulty with orgasm. AKA, the return of SMUTKEA.

Summary: Wolffe is the best you’ve ever had. That doesn’t mean it’s always perfect.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Fruit de La Créativité by Grès (raspberry & leather)

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Wolffe gazed up into your eyes as you rolled your hips slowly, searching for the perfect angle. You knew you could find it: you’d done it before, countless times. His strong, warm hands glided up your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper, guiding you closer and closer to your pleasure. You could feel it building inside you, the tension gathering slowly.

Too slowly.

He smoothed one hand up your side, grazing along your rib cage until he cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his thumb. He knew exactly how much pressure you liked, and the way he touched you was perfect.

God, he’s so hot. Just focus on how hot he is.

Sweat glistened on your skin. The room hadn’t been this hot when he’d pulled you into bed, but after an hour and a half of vigorous activity, you were both slick with perspiration, saliva, arousal, and lube. He’d mapped your body with kisses, gliding his lips and tongue across your skin as he devoured you, bringing you right to the edge until you begged him to fuck you. 

You’d wrapped your legs around his waist as he eased into you, a tormented groan rumbling from his lips as he felt your heat envelope him. Gods, he felt amazing, and when he started to move, you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you came. 

It took longer than you expected, and after a while, you realized something needed to change. 

“Take me from behind,” you’d murmured, knowing how much he loved the way your ass pressed into his hips in that position.

“God, yes,” he’d replied, pulling out and rolling you over with enthusiasm.

You loved the way he handled you in bed. He was so fucking strong. He could toss you around so easily—it was hot as hell, but the best thing about it was the care he took to make sure you were comfortable and he didn’t accidentally hurt you. He lifted your hips up and positioned you exactly the way he wanted you. You heard a small click as he closed the bottle of lube, and then you felt his slickened fingers glide over your cunt as he ensured you were ready to take him from the new angle.

“Maker, that ass is gorgeous,” he said, squeezing your cheeks before giving you a playful smack. 

Your mischievous giggle turned into a breathless moan as he sank into you, reaching deeper, stretching you wider, as his hand slid down your body to tease your clit. You loved the way he touched you, the way he caged you in with his body, making you feel incredibly safe and protected. And of course, you loved his cock. He knew exactly how to use it to ensure he gave you as much pleasure as he took—or more.

And still, your orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He shifted, and for a moment, his body rested heavily on you before he resumed his rhythm.

He’s getting tired. Fuck. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I need to give him a break.

“Want me to be on top?” you offered, hoping that yet another angle would be the one that finally pushed you past whatever mental block was keeping you from your release.

He paused, his hands resting on your hips. “Is that what you want?”

“Sure,” you replied. “If you do?”

He trailed his fingers down your spine before slowly withdrawing from your body. You turned to watch as he rolled onto his back and kicked the blankets off the bed. He reached for you with that sexy smirk that you loved so much, and you knew without question that he still wanted you.

He’s such a good man. Gods, he deserves the world.

“Hop on, darlin’,” he invited.

You crawled toward him with a smile, pausing a moment to kneel between his thighs. You traced your fingertips up his legs and over his balls, then ghosted a line up the underside of his cock. You glanced up to see his eyes fixed on you with an intense expression. Holding his gaze, you dropped lower and flicked your tongue over his tip, then slid his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him. You could taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, unspeakably erotic. His hips flexed beneath you, and you heard his breath grow ragged.

He caressed your head gently, stroking his hand over your hair and jaw before coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he said quietly. “Come up here.”

You gave him one last defiant, flirtatious little suck before you released him, then you began to crawl up to him, kissing a trail up his abdomen and chest. You straddled his hips, kissing and licking your way up his throat, and as you reached his lips, you whispered, “You taste like pussy.”

“Then I must be delicious,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His tongue slid into your mouth as his cock thrust into your cunt, and for a moment you were overwhelmed with the sensations of him filling you. A fresh wave of arousal had flooded you as you’d pleasured him with your mouth, and he slipped into you easily, rocking into you with his powerful thighs. You braced your fists against the mattress on either side of his head, pressing down to meet his thrusts as you rode him hard and fast, chasing your pleasure with a desperation that started to border on frantic as release continued to elude you.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna fill you up. You feel so goddamn good. Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

I’m trying, damn it!

“You feel incredible,” you replied breathlessly, and it was true, so why was this so kriffing difficult?

Your hips were starting to get sore from how long you’d been at it, so you shifted positions, bringing your knees higher and setting a slower pace to try to buy yourself enough time that you’d have the energy to make it to the finish line. Wolffe adjusted instantly, not even needing a verbal cue to understand the message your body sent. You found the angle that pressed his cock against the perfect place inside you, and you focused on trying to get as much stimulation there as you possibly could, cutting out all extraneous movement.

The longer it took, the more anxious and desperate you became. You tried to shut down the voice in your head that whispered, “He’s getting bored,” because you knew it was a lie. All you had to do was look into his beautiful, mismatched eyes to see how much he wanted you. And you were so close. So fucking close, if you could just get out of your own head long enough to let go.

You traced your fingertips across his cheekbone and along his jaw, grazing your thumb across his lips. You pressed gently, parting his lips to brush your thumb against his tongue, and then you leaned down and kissed him deeply, trying to lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue against your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as you broke from the kiss and returned your hand to brace against the mattress. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Please stop talking. You couldn’t say it out loud; what kind of an asshole says something like that in response to a compliment?

“You’re so sexy,” you whispered instead. “You’re amazing at this.”

It was true; he was amazing. Unquestionably the best you’d ever had. In the time you’d been together, he’d learned your body completely, identifying every spot that made you shiver, testing different approaches until he knew exactly how and where you liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. He knew where to use his teeth, and where to use his breath; he knew when you wanted him to be tender, and when you craved roughness. 

He knew you.

He knew you better than anyone ever had, and that made your current predicament even more maddening. Because sometimes it was easy. Sometimes you came so fast that your orgasm surprised both of you. But most of the time, it took more work. A lot more. And sometimes, like this one, you would get so close to the edge that you were only seconds away, only to feel the wave of pleasure ebb and be replaced with frustration and exhaustion.

Please, please, please. Just a little bit more.

Your wrists ached. Your knuckles were raw from grinding them into the sheets. You shifted your weight and lifted one hand off the mattress, stretching your fingers and trying to get the blood flowing to them. He glanced at your hand, then back up into your eyes.

“What can I do?” he asked softly.

“Just… keep going,” you said desperately. “I’m so close—I’m so fucking close, and I just can’t—I can’t—”

Abrupt tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face against his neck to hide them, kissing his chest to try to distract him from your distress.

He wrapped his arms around your body, still rocking into you at the pace you’d set. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I want you to come,” you snapped, disappointment sharpening your tone more than you intended.

He stilled immediately. You felt his hand slide up your back to stroke your hair softly.

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Look at me.”

You shook your head and burrowed your face obstinately into the nook where his neck met his shoulder.

“Talk to me, little one,” he urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The dam cracked and then burst. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” you sobbed. “And I can tell you’re getting tired, and I just want it to be good for you, and every time I think I’m getting there, I lose it!”

Mortification swept through you that you were making a scene during such an intimate moment, and you tried to stifle your sobs, but it was too late. You felt him go soft inside you, and then he slipped from your body.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rolled the both of you onto your sides, pulling you close against his body. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Holding you tightly with one arm, he began to run his hand lightly over your back, comforting you with his touch as he kissed your forehead.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated. “You just got tired. It’s all right, love. It happens.”

“It’s so frustrating,” you confessed. “So many times, I thought I was there, and then something would distract me, and it was just gone.”

“Was it something I did?” he asked.

“No, of course not. It was just… I don’t know. A noise? Or a weird thought that popped into my head at a bad time?” You paused, feeling a little guilty as you remembered that, in fact, you had gotten annoyed at an ill-timed remark from him. “And then the longer it took, the more it stressed me out about how long it was taking, until I was stressing so much about it that that’s all I could think about.”

He moved his hand to your shoulder and began to glide it up and down your arm in long, languid strokes. “Why were you worried about taking too long?”

You paused, unaccountably hesitant to admit the truth. He waited patiently, still caressing your arm, until at last you replied, “I was worried you were getting tired. Or bored. Or—I don’t know…”

His hand stilled in its progress, then slid around your back as he pulled you even closer to him. “I would never get bored with you.”

“But—”

“I love you,” he cut you off firmly. “I love being with you. I love fuckin’ you. You’re gorgeous, and sexy, and kriffin’ amazing in the sack. Do you have any idea how lucky I am? Most men only dream of finding a girl like you, but I got you for real. How the hell would I ever be stupid enough to get bored with someone as goddamn perfect as you?”

You didn’t know what to say. You lay in his arms, clinging tightly to him as the tears finally stopped trickling from your eyes. You shuddered quietly.

“Yeah?” you asked in a tiny whisper.

He rolled you onto your back and moved to lie on top of you so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You swallowed. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I know,” he said with a charming smirk.

He pressed his lips to your sternum as his hand slid lazily up your body to play with your breast. The weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress as you cradled his chest between your thighs. You took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, releasing the guilt and stress and self-recrimination you’d built up in your body.

He kissed you again, and again, then he began to work his way across your chest until he drew your nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over your skin as he sucked gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt a spark of renewed arousal, but with it came a surge of anxiety that rose insistently in your mind.

“Wolffe,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can. I really am exhausted.”

He looked up at you as he continued to tease your breast. At last, he released your nipple from his lips, giving you a devilish smile.

“What if we tried something else?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into an answering smile when he looked at you like that. “What did you have in mind?”

He pushed himself up off of you and leaned over to rummage through your nightstand until he retrieved a vibrator—the one you’d once jokingly called “Old Faithful” for its uncanny ability to get you off like clockwork.

“I want you to fuck yourself with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

Your breath stuttered to a halt, your eyes widening and your heart beginning to pound at the idea. Your gaze flicked from the toy to his eyes and back again.

“Wh—what about you?” you stammered.

“Don’t you worry about me,” he replied. He switched on the vibrator and traced it down your abdomen, making you twitch as its buzz tickled your skin. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the toy from him. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way works best for you.”

You thought about trying to pose for him, to put on a show, but you knew instinctively that wasn’t what he was after. If he’d wanted to watch a counterfeit, staged orgasm, he would have just found a holoporn. No. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to see your genuine pleasure.

“All right,” you whispered.

You took the toy from him, and he moved off of your body to lie next to you, observing you closely. You adjusted the settings to your preferred speed and pattern, then took a deep breath and began.

The instant you touched the vibrator to your clit, your entire body tensed, and you gasped quietly. You glanced at Wolffe and found his gaze riveted to your pussy, his one good pupil dilated so wide you could barely see the amber ring of his iris around its inky depths. You felt a little self-conscious until you saw the way his lips parted slightly as his breath became heavy. 

You pushed yourself back into the pillow and closed your eyes as you adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing it exactly as you needed it. With your free hand, you began to play with your breast, caressing and squeezing and rolling your nipple between your fingertips. You felt the warmth of his hand as it settled onto your leg and then slid up your thigh. Your opposite leg curled up to brace your foot against the bed, opening your stance wider as you moved the vibrator exactly the way you needed it.

“Fuck,” he rasped hoarsely, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. His fingers grazed lightly over your pussy, but quickly withdrew.

“You can touch me,” you gasped.

He didn’t move immediately, and you continued to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the tension gather in your body and begin to tighten in on your center. Then his fingertips brushed over your cunt again, and you felt his lips and tongue descend on your hip. He didn’t try to take control, just touched you softly, kissing and licking and watching as you played with yourself. 

You adjusted your position again, bringing your leg against his body, and you felt his slick, rigid cock press hard against you. You whimpered, so turned on you couldn’t even form words, and in response, he ground his erection against you. He kissed across your pelvis until he reached your belly, pressing his face into you.

“I’m so close,” you panted.

“Kriff, me too,” he growled.

His fingertip grazed into you, and your body jerked as you gasped sharply. He froze, and without thinking, you moved your hand away from your breast to grab his wrist and push him deeper. With an urgent grunt, he began to move his finger, stroking exactly where he knew you needed him.

Abruptly, your hips arched off the bed, and you let out an inhuman wail. If your brain had been functioning, you might have also heard Wolffe’s rough groan, but at the moment, you were aware of nothing but blinding, shattering pleasure as your body finally found the release it had been denied for so many hours. You jerked the vibrator away as the intensity suddenly became too much, and your body convulsed again and again until at last you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.

Wolffe covered you with frantic kisses, crawling up your body until he reached your face. His body hovered over you as his tongue brushed between your lips and flooded your mouth with his taste. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your legs tightened around his hips, and you pulled him into you. His cock slid easily, and he thrust hard and fast, fucking you through the last tremors of your orgasm.

He came within seconds, flooding you with heat as he thrust hard, one last time, burying his cock as deep as he could inside your body. He stayed there, his entire body taut, until at last he exhaled a hard breath and relaxed onto you. His lips broke away from yours, and he rested his forehead against the pillow next to your head.

“Fuck,” he panted, the word hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You stroked your hands up and down his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin. He groaned and slumped heavily against your body. You loved the weight of him on top of you, but before long, you began to wheeze quietly as you struggled to draw breath. He heard the shift and immediately rolled off of you, pulling you against himself as he came to rest on the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his chest.

He laughed quietly. “Thank you. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

“Worth the wait?” you asked.

“Worth everything,” he murmured, drawing you even closer. “Everything, and more. You always have been.”

 ---

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[ireadwithmyears]

Kix my beloved. This was beautiful I loved it sm

Hello there! I have a request from your Clones Ice Cream page :) Can it please be with Kix and he helps the reader after they fall (reader is clumsy) with the blushing prompt?

Thank you for the ask! I had to take some inspiration from my own situation with being clumsy though.

And thanks to everyone so far for the asks sent in! I'm looking forward to everyone of them.

Hope you enjoy this!

Falling for You

Pairing: Kix x Reader Event: Sunshine's Follower Milestone Graphic dividers and Event graphics: by myself @sunshinesdaydream Rating: SFW WARNINGS: Mentioned spatial awareness deficiency, is referred to as clumsiness. Word count: 487

You had been seen to by the medics many times. The GAR frowned on even basic bacta bandages without “medical supervision”. So the scrapes you usually would have attended to on your own with a cleaning, ointment, and bandage became a trip to the medbay full of medics and Jedi Service Corp healers.

Being a mechanic with poor spatial awareness was one thing when you overstepped a rung on a loading ladder and simply went home that night, took some pain meds for your bruised “ego” and went on with life. Now it would call for a scan to make sure you hadn’t fractured your tailbone and one of the medic troopers fussing over you.  It didn’t matter who was there, you were always approached by the same trooper. Kix. 

Kix, probably the prettiest trooper in the GAR, the 501st for sure. He was kind and witty and you could probably go on all day about him. You absolutely did not want him to know exactly how clumsy you were. 

So far you had been able to play off every injury as something that happened while you worked. Cuts and scrapes were easily explained as typical to a mechanic’s day. 

“And how did you manage to get this?” He asked as he sprayed an antibiotic on your scraped knuckles. It was an odd time, he was alone in the med bay when you had arrived with your hand wrapped in a clean shop towel. 

The lie came easily as you focused on breathing and staying calm as he held your hand gently.  “Busted them on an engine compartment,” not that you had busted them when you had stumbled into a bulkhead with your hands full. 

“Hmmm” he hums, smoothing healing gel into your injuries.  He wraps your hand in a bandage. “Try to be more careful,” he said. You nod, inwardly cringing, as you stand up to leave. 

Then the inevitable happens. You make it all of four steps and your foot catches on a cart you had accidentally veered towards. You expected to hit the floor, but you didn’t.  Kix catches you before you hit, pulling you upright with his arms wrapped around you. 

“So what would have been this time? Malfunctioning hatch?” Kix teases. 

“I…” you were at a loss for words. 

“It’s cute when you blush,” he continues, still holding you in his arms. 

“I’m not blushing!” You insist even as your cheeks blaze. 

“Yes you are!” He says with a low chuckle. But his expression fell, “Will you tell me now what really happened? I don’t like to see you hurt,”

“I tripped into a bulkhead while I was carrying engine parts,” you answer quietly, your cheeks still on fire. 

With a warm smile he gently kisses  your forehead. “There, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?” He asks. “Will you let me walk with you to the mess and have dinner with you?”  

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[ireadwithmyears]

Echo pulling off his helmet to talk to Emerie has to be one of the top moments of the episode. He knows he can connect with her through emotion and it worked right away (don’t know if it’s a clone thing, and like a familial instinct or what but she instantly crumbled).

And man Emerie is so fucking doomed by the narrative, her poor face when Echo laid out all the horrors in front of her made me so sad.

Overall I think we’re getting the payoff we deserve next week. But at what cost, I’m not sure. I’m very ready to see Omega destroy that entire lab with a giant sea monster.

[ireadwithmyears]

a flight risk with a fear of falling

pairing: commander Wolffe / fem reader

Word count: two.4K

Tags/warnings: mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, but suggestive at times. Sketchy fair rides, fear of falling summary: you and Wolffe attend a local fair. You have a great time, all goes well, until you’re stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel and are pretty convinced that you’re about to fall and die. Notes: reader is implied to be visually impaired here. However, of course, that does not mean you won’t enjoy if you’re not. This was just based off of a real life experience I had, and I couldn’t imagine writing it and the fear I felt without blindness being incorporated into it. Title is based off of the lyrics of mine by Taylor Swift.

You aren’t afraid of heights.

And really, you think, it would be silly for you to be, considering how little vision you have to look down at the world as it whizzes beneath you as you fly by. 

You and Wolffe had eagerly scrambled to get on the roller coasters with the highest peaks with barely a second thought, been on the drop zone more than once in a row, and the whole time, you had only been screaming with delight and adrenaline fuelled anticipation, your commander only rolling his eyes fondly, unable to conceal the upward curve of his lips or the crinkle of amusement between his eyes as they gleam, bearing witness to your unbridled display of excitement with quiet satisfaction. 

“As much as I love watching you becoming a little speed demon, meshla,” he says lowly, tucking you beneath his arm as you stumble, slightly woozy and breathless after your most recent ride, “maybe we should take a break from these.” 

He indicates the line of brightly coloured roller coasters that stretch in front of you, loud Carnival Style music blaring from many of them, accompanied by the ambiance of constant shrieks as they speed above.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I threw up all over your new boots?” You ask with a pout, letting your head drop against his chest with a sigh.

“That’s not what I said,” he chides, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “But do you really want to share a speeder with me on the way home if I smell like that?” he gives you a slight poke, and you wrinkle your nose with a shake of your head.

“Fiine,” you say with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Boost told me that a wolf plushy is up as a prize at one of the games. We should try and win it, to show some pride for the Wolfpack, you know?.” 

His lips pull into a slight smirk as he gazes down at you. “Aren’t you actually suggesting that I should waste our precious tokens on a game that is probably a scam to try and win it for you?” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest as he gives you a playful scowl with a raised eyebrow. “Because no offense, but I don’t think your skill set lies in aiming rings at bottles, meshla,” he remarks, brushing a slight kiss against the tip of your nose.

Your pout transforms into a full on grin. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” you confirm, completely unashamedly, with an enthusiastic nod. “You win the game, and I’ll be your personal cheerleader.”

“Hm,” Wolffe tilts his head, considering. “That would be more tempting if you were wearing the outfit,” he says, voice dropping, fingers lazily trailing down your side, idly making their path to your waist.

Your breath catches and you smack his arm playfully. “I don’t have a cheerleader outfit,” you announce, with a toss of your hair, placing a hand on your hip

You raise yourself up onto your tiptoes, leaning in and letting your own voice drop suggestively with a teasing smirk. “But, if you win the game, I’ll make sure that the night ends with my outfit scattered on the floor.” 

There’s a moment of dead silence, tension crackling in the air as Wolffe’s eyes rake over your form, both hands reaching out to settle against your hips.

Then, he unexpectedly hoists you up into his arms, causing you to squeak with surprise, steadying your self by grasping at his shoulders as your eyes dance. 

“Teasing little thing,” he hums, breath inches away from your ear as he speaks, making you shiver. “I’ll do it, then. But you better be prepared for us to lose all of our tokens on this, sweetheart.”

*

When he does actually manage to win, you’re pleasantly surprised. 

Not because you had any doubt in him, of course. But because you genuinely believed that all of the fair games were scams. Wolffe is ceaseless in his determination, though, as evidenced by the very limited amount of tokens you have left. He lines up each shot with as much precision as you imagine he does on the battlefield, his natural confidence in his abilities riling up the games supervisors, as with their increasing befuddlement, they try to make it harder for him, especially, in the end, when his confidence is proven to be not unfounded in the slightest.

“Here you are, ner cyar,” he says, easy smile on his lips as he passes you the very large, gray wolf stuffed animal.

“Thank you,” you say excitedly, wrapping your arms around the plushy and jumping up to give Wolffe a chaste kiss.

Your lips pull into a smirk, holding up the stuffed animal with pride. “Looks like I’ve got a new favourite cuddle buddy, Wolffe,” you tease. “You were great, but, I think I just found your replacement,” you chuckle, and are abruptly cut off when swiftly, Wolffe reaches out, effortlessly plucking the wolf from your arms and holding him high above your head.

“Don’t even joke about that, meshla,” he warns, tauntingly dangling him just out of your reach as you desperately try to grab for him. “Uh uh,” he tsks, look of mock disapproval settling over his features as he holds the plushy above your head by his ear. “You take that back first, and I’ll give him back to you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lucky for you, the stuffed wolf won’t be able to replace you as the big spoon. So please, can I have him back?” 

“Good,” he says, smug smile on his face. Gently, he drops the stuffed animal, taking care to make sure that he lands in your arms without incident.

“We still have a few tokens,” you report, counting over the admittedly meagre supply. “We should go on the ferris wheel.” 

“I hope you’re not trying to put off us going home so that I don’t get as much time to partake in the other part of the winnings you promised me,” he quips, tilting his head quizzically.

“Of course not,” you defend, holding up the last ride tokens. “I just don’t want these to go to waste. Besides, I’ve never been on one before.”

Wolffe gives you a grin, suddenly mischievous, pulling your arm through his and bending his elbow almost out of habit, so that he can guide you.

“I haven’t either,” he admits, beginning to walk. “Let’s fix that for both of us.”

*

You are not afraid of heights. 

This, you are now reminding yourself, quite  sternly as the ferris wheel lifts you higher and higher by degree.

And maybe, you rationalize, that is still true. Because though watching the world blurring out of focus below you with your already limited vision is, unsettling, to say the least. It’s really the Ferris wheel itself, with one support bar around your waist being the only thing that stops you from plummeting face first Back down to the Earth below.

Being blind can alter or throw off your sense of balance and centre of gravity, and although this isn’t something you’re reminded of often, this is one of the times where it hits you full on, how unsteady you are, how close to teetering and falling all the way down you feel, even if, logically, you know the odds of that happening are small. You can’t convince your brain of that, so you freeze up completely, thinking that if you don’t move, that if you don’t even breathe, it’ll make it easier.

It doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

Wolffe is watching you, eyes intent, observant. At first, you’re not entirely sure as to what has tipped him off to your impending sense of doom. But then, looking down, finding that your hand has locked itself around his with an iron grip, you suppose it’s quite obvious. What’s more, your other arm is tightly wrapped around the stuffed wolf he won for you at the ring toss, your face hiding against its soft fur, eyes squeezed shut.

At your lack of response, he shifts, wanting to get a better look at you. Unfortunately, though, this causes the cart you’re into jostle, and even though the movement is slight and fleeting, you still let out a noise of distress, eyes going wide.

“Are you, scared of heights?” He asks, voice slightly incredulous and tentative.

You shake your head vehemently in denial. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s, I.”

You’re cut off as the wheel begins to move again, pulling you closer to the top before stopping. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you think that the sun must be about to set, and it must be a nice view, for those who can appreciate it. For those who don’t feel like they’re about to die right now. 

“It’s not how high we are, Wolffe,” you try to explain, hating the way that your voice comes out in more of a whimper as you stare down at the ground. “It’s just I just feel like I’m going to fall. It it would be so easy,” you point with a shaking hand at the support bar, distrustful. “And what if something goes wrong and I...” you trail off, eyes blurring with unshed tears, to your utter mortification.

“It it’s not like the roller coasters, Wolffe,” you try to explain, clutching at the stuffed animal in your lap with anxiety. “On those, I didn’t have time to think about falling.”

All sense of logic and rationality has fled your mind like birds, leaving you feeling unstable, each heartbeat that pounds within the cage of your chest convincing you further that the slightest breeze is going to push you off, send you falling down off this precarious ride and to your certain demise. 

A single tear tracks its way down your cheek and carefully, Wolffe raises a hand to gently wipe it away. “Oh, ner cyar,” he breathes, movements slow and deliberate as he reaches out towards you, keeping it cautious, predictable, so that you know exactly what he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coos at you softly, arm reaching around you to easily pull you to him.

His other hand delicately smooths over your hair, before settling to cradle the back of your head, securely tucking you against his chest.

Miraculously, the feeling of his body, protective as it curls around you, Creating a safe cocoon for you to nestle in, Immediately begins to ease the all consuming fear inside your bones. Somehow, you feel less unsteady, isolated, and on the verge of falling as soon as he’s safely tucked you in his arms.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you fall, ad’ika?” He asks, voice a low rumble as he looks down at you, the stuffed animal comfortably wedged between the both of you.

The feeling of his strong arms holding you securely against his broad chest, the way his heart is beating steadily against your ear, is much more reassuring than the seemingly flimsy support bar, and your intrusive thoughts. In spite of yourself, you find your muscles beginning to unwind, melting into him as one of his hands, large and warm, caresses over your back, pressing firm, grounding circles in between your shoulder blades.

“N no,” you say, unable to conceal the slight tremor that runs through you as the ferris wheel moves again. “B but what if.”

“Shh, meshla, focus,” he gently Chides, redirecting you’re over thinking mind back to him, giving one of your shoulders a slight squeeze of encouragement. “I want you to close your eyes, and breathe, and all you have to do is focus on me, alright? Nothing else, just you and me, right here,” he continues, voice a calm, steady stream.

You give him a small, shaky nod, before turning your face against his chest, relieved when you can no longer see the world growing smaller when you’re tucked against him like this. Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes close, and you’re surprised and relieved to find that the impending sense of dread is beginning to fade.

You’re rewarded with Wolffe lowering, a slight dip of his chin, peppering several kisses to the top of your head as he holds you tightly. “Good girl,” he praises, voice a quiet breath against your ear.

The ferris wheel begins to move again and before you’re given time to think about it, he speaks, derailing the panicked thoughts that begin to stir.

“Your hair is so pretty,” he remarks, slowly running his fingers through the strands. “And so soft,” he murmurs, dropping another kiss to your head. “How do you get it to be like that?” 

Somehow, your lips pull into a small smile. “With a lot of work,” you mumble with a slight laugh and shrug.

“And?” He prods, lightly poking you in the side. “I want details, meshla. Give me your full routine, with the products you use. Give me a step-by-step guide.” 

You know that he probably doesn’t actually care. You know he’s making you talk to distract you from the movements of the ferris wheel around you. In spite of that, though, you give in, beginning to speak and explain exactly how you maintain your hair. 

To his credit, he seems to be listening attentively to everything you’re saying, eyes never leaving you as you speak, always prompting you with questions when you seem to not know what else to say. 

Before you know it, the wheel has brought your cart to the ground, and an attendant is releasing the support bar from around the both of you, allowing you to get down. 

Wolffe clambers out first, getting down to offer you a hand, helping you down off the attraction. Taking one look at the expression on your face, he wordlessly holds out his elbow, beginning to guide you both towards the fairgrounds exit.

“Are you that eager to get us home so that you can claim your winnings?” You ask teasingly as he pulls you behind him with long, purposeful strides.

He stops, turns to face you and catches your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to look at him as he idly runs a calloused thumb over your bottom lip, causing goosebumps to rise on your upper arms.

“Hm,” he says, expression contemplative as his other hand grazes down your side, experimentally dipping beneath the material of your top to trace teasing circles against your hip.

“Truth be told, meshla,” he muses, the low baritone of his voice slightly husky with desire. “I think you’re the one who deserves rewarding tonight.”

Your face breaks into a smile, even as you arch against his touch, with your breath catching in your throat.

“Well,” you start to say, finding you have to swallow several times as a blush creeps into your cheeks before you can respond properly.

“I certainly won

#star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe #the clone wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #sw the clone wars #tcw fanfic #cc 3636 #reader insert #x reader #Fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic

[ireadwithmyears]

So we all agree we’re rewatching the bad batch in full right after the finale is released right?

[ireadwithmyears]

"I'm so depressed I act like it's my birthday every day" and getting up on a stage to sing 22 every fucking weekend is a bit insane💀

[ireadwithmyears]

the manuscript ending the album on the utter jawdrop moment that neither of the muses of the actual album were the first men to fuck her up with promises of marriage and babies, and that first heartbreak so long ago laid the scene for the woman she would become and the ways she would approach love and how we all watched her life like scenes in a show but she kept coming back to the manuscript of the first torrid affair that ruined her, to bookend an album about two love affairs that destroyed her utterly in almost the exact same way, because all her muses are acquired like bruises........ it's bone-chilling

#I don’t have anything to add #I just came here to cry #And Reblogged so that you cry with me

[ireadwithmyears]

why is this video seven hours long?😂

Vocal isolation of Rampart screaming in S3E14 🤣

Noshir Dalal hit it out of the park with this performance. I would kill to see a behind the scenes of him doing this episode.

Please feel free to share this anywhere, esp Twitter

@bad-batch-lurker

#He’s so pathetic #That’s my favourite part about him

[ireadwithmyears]

Howdy! 🤠

Super excited for this follower event! I loved reading the last event’s masterpieces, and I can’t wait for the ones produced from this event! 💕

For my request, could I get Wrecker with Tanzanite in the fall? It’s the perfect day for a cute fall date and they have so much planned, but fem!reader’s period comes early and very painfully. She tries to hide it and keep the date going, but Wrecker notices and changes their plans to make it more comfortable for her. Thanks!

A Change Of Pace

Summary: You have a date with Wrecker, a date you’ve been looking forward to for weeks. And, when your period comes early, you’re determined to make the date happen in spite of your pain.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 765

Prompt: Tanzanite - Perceptive Love

Warnings: period talk

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Sorry this took so long! This ask kept becoming invisible in my askbox. Apparently it's a thing that happens if you have more than a certain number of asks. I hope you like it~

You grit your teeth as a sharp stab of pain makes you want to double over. 

It figures.

Isn’t this how it always happens? You look forward to something, and your period decides to arrive early.

You blindly take some pain medicine, and exhale slowly to try and ignore your pain.

This date with Wrecker has been planned for weeks. You are not going to let a little pain get in the way of having fun with the man you’ve been crushing on for even longer.

You quickly make sure that you’re presentable, which doesn’t take half as long as you thought it might, and you just step out of your bedroom when there’s a knock at your apartment door.

A quiet curse falls from your lips as there’s another sharp stab of pain, but you ignore it with the ease of someone who’s been dealing with these types of cramps for the large majority of your life, and you hurry over to the door.

A blinding smile crosses your face when you see the man standing there. He looks kind of sheepish, and is rubbing the back of his neck, but he looks genuinely thrilled to see you.

“Wrecker! Welcome back!” You move to the side to let him in your apartment.

“Thanks,” He steps into your apartment, his gaze sliding from one side of the room to the other, “Was worried that we weren’t going to get back in time.”

“Oh?”

“Tech broke something on the ship,” Wrecker replies lightly, it’s a lie, you’re sure. He doesn’t like telling you about the realities of war, having claimed, on more than one occasion, that you are his pretty oasis away from the war.

“Well,” You reply with a light smile, “I hope he fixed it.”

His gaze lands on you, finally, and a broad smile crosses his face. “Course, he always does.”

“Good,” You step around him, “I’m almost ready to go. If you give me about 15 minutes, we can head out to the Fair.”

“Looking forward to it,” Wrecker follows you into the living room and drops on the couch, “And you’re sure they’ll let me in?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, they might not want you to do any of the games, but they’re all rigged anyway, so-” You grin, though it fades as another sharp pain makes you inhale sharply.

You hoped that you were subtle enough that Wrecker wouldn’t notice, but no such luck. 

“Are you alright, angel?”

“I’m fine, honest.”

He stares at you thoughtfully, taking in the way you’re holding yourself, and the way you’re trying to keep yourself from curling in on yourself, and his eyes narrow, “You’re in pain.”

“It’s normal.”

He pauses, “Your lady time,” Wrecker gets to his feet and walks over to you, “How can I help?”

You lift your chin, “We’ve had this date planned for weeks, Wreck. I’m not going to let a little pain stop me-” A particularly strong cramp has a string of curses falling from your lips in Ryl as you nearly bend in two, and Wrecker’s hands settle on your shoulders.

“You know,” His voice is light, conversational, “I’m kind of exhausted, it was a long trip from the outer rim. How about we put off the fair for a day?”

You hesitate, “Well, if you’re exhausted-” You finally say slowly, well aware that he’s lying to you to make you feel better about having to cancel your plans for the day. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

He flashes a small smile at you and smoothes his hand over your hair, “We’ll both have more fun when you’re not doubled over in pain.” He says, very logically, “Now, how can I help?”

“Can you find my heating pad while I change into something looser?”

“Absolutely.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, you’re curled up on top of Wrecker, your heating pad squished between your bodies as you watch a movie together. He presses a light kiss to the top of your head and presses his hand against the small of your back, “Better?”

You just sigh, “I hope I don’t bleed on you.”

Wrecker laughs, “Ah, angel. Don’t you worry about that. If you do, it’s just a little blood. Not a problem to me.”

You shift and look at him, “You’re the best, Wrecker.”

“Oh, I know.” He grins at you, “But you make me better, angel.”

You flush and press your face against his chest, “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

And he grins, “Well that is the plan, angel.”

[ireadwithmyears]

We are being fed😌

Echo girlies how we doing after that fine display by your man?

[ireadwithmyears]

they’re both my traumatized babies, and I’d die for them, and I can’t wait to see this duo in action next week

Spoilers episode 14

.

.

.

“Echo. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Her voice QUIVERING when she says this made me sob.

Omg.

I wasn’t expecting them teaming up and now I would die for both of them. LET’S GO EMERIE!

[ireadwithmyears]

Emerie: we must free the children

Echo: childREN? as in plural???

[ireadwithmyears]

This duo is already making me cry

The way Emerie’s voice shook when she first addressed Echo.

[ireadwithmyears]

Echo put his whole ARC Troopussy into these last two episodes.

[ireadwithmyears]

I hope my non bad batch mutuals see this and wonder what the fuck it means

Happy bad batch eve. If Hunter isn't Elmo I'm going to eat Emerie's shoelaces

[ireadwithmyears]

yes to all of this. I love Emerie so much. She is so complex and interesting and this post really does this justice. Put some respect on my girls name y’all

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them. 

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.”  Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are. 

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances. 

 “You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.”  A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.  

“It’s best not to ask questions.”  Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.  

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.”  After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock. 

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.”  Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.  

“You’re safe SP-32.”  Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not. 

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone. 

“And where did this child come from?”  Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.  

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

[ireadwithmyears]

that’s it, I’m logging off for the night

Explain the equation of your dad being the one who showed you Star Wars but at the same time you still have daddy issues and now you’re attracted to copy and paste men.

#JFC #logged on and wasn’t even scrolling for 30 seconds before I got personally attacked #have never felt more called out in my life