#but thoughts are fleeting and i am now blank

[fillinforlater]

Hello plz feel free to replace my Eunbi ask with a Rose daddy kink feet smut. She has maybe my fave feet for K idol and I dream of the day I can see this smut published. White polish Rose feet stuff, licking, sucking, tasting, feet fucking ofc, and also getting her pussy pounded cumming inside, but also cumming all over her feet. Plot line you can decide. Thanks QT.

The Interview

Male Reader x Roseanne Park

Length: 2188 words

Tags: feet kink, cheating, daddy kink, an interview gone wild, infidelity, fucking feet, feet licking, footjob, masturbation, creampie, hair pulling, cum drinking, rough sex, folding in half

TW: no editing lol

(A/N: the final request of my first request phase back in early 2022. This one is so old, sorry that you had to wait for so long buddy @sooyadelicacies. I hope you enjoy it lol)

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

"W-well, it's hard to focus, like, your legs are literally pointing down at them. Your sandals barely hide the rosie!"

Rose rolls her eyes. Slender arms folded like a pretzel, she leans back into the beige cushion of her chair, fifteen-hundred, made for her ass and her ass alone. In annoyance she watches her useless boyfriend put the back of his pen on her calves but even a heavy sigh does not stop his advance. In one continuous trail, he drags the pen to her knee before she stops him with a snarky remark.

"Will you stop it? This is important to me. I need your focus on this." She taps the clipboard in his hand, knowing all too well that his horny ass has not written down a single practice question. "Please practice this with me."

"Nah, I'd much rather practice with my cock in your pussie, Rosie~" he responds, face in a smirk so disgustingly self-satisfied at his pathetic attempt at a joke that no one would argue with him looking downright ugly. Rose turns to the side, arms entangled rightly.

"You don't give a fuck about this, hm?" Rose fires back and grips her boyfriend's wrist. "We can fuck afterwards, but not now. I need your help, so please, at least try to act like a journalist."

There he goes again, blank stare focussed on her feet, her face, turning to a smirk as he finds another horny rebuttal:

"I'm no journalist, I'd much rather be an explorer. I could write books about how smooth your legs feel and how tight your pussy is."

"He is a journalist, he can surely write better than you can ever dream off!"

Rose's shout makes the room go quiet. Not that there were more people anywhere near them—but it feels like every atom has stopped moving and only motionless, perfect silence remains. Her boyfriend sinks backwards into the couch, arms folded the same way she has, an eyebrow raised in more than light concern.

"Oh. It's a guy doing the interview?"

#

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

You straighten your neck, terrified at Rose’s carelessly spoken words. It was only for a fleeting moment that your eyes caught her bare feet, the way her slender legs seem to point down at them, it was impossible not to look. You could promise her that this was only because she decided not to wear any shoes, which would have explained it, but nonetheless, you are in deep shit.

“Excuse my behavior, please,” you quickly respond, beads of sweat forming at the side of your temple. “I was just spacing out. I know I shouldn’t, but please, forgive me.”

“You’re taking this too seriously,” Rose laughs and leans back into her chair. “Is this your first interview with…”

“With someone of your caliber—yes, though I have never felt nervousness rise in me to the point such a mistake happens. I really am sorry.” You bow your head to the idol, hoping to overplay any and every thought of her thinking that you’re thinking about her feet in all kinds of ways. “Shall we begin?”

You pull out your recording device, ready to hit play and make this the professional question and answer session it was supposed to be, but Rose interjects. God knows what she is thinking when she leans forward, slender fingers right above your thigh, voice husky and deep.

“You want them on your cock, right?”

“What?!”

“You want my feet around your cock, right

“Daddy?”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I can see you drooling.” Rose captures a string of saliva with her thumb, blowing away your coverage behind decency, and spreading it over your dry lips. “I can see the want in your eyes when you look at my feet. Aren’t they pretty?”

“R-Rose, this is highly—”

"Inappropriate?" she asks, a look of brattiness and disappointment on her stunning features as her pointy, purple painted nail pokes your cheek. “Inappropriate, like staring at a lady’s feet while fantasizing about them?”

“I-I told you I’m sorry. A-and I was not fantasizing in the slightest.”

Your explanation ends with a wince. The pointy ends of Rose’s delicate fingers sink into the skin of your neck. You throw your head back. The pain is sharp, severe enough that you want it to end, but your hands still tightly hold onto the clipboard and recording device.

“Now you’re lying, Daddy.” Rose repeats that damn word without care. “Why can’t you admit that you like my feet?”

“Because…” you stammer, trying to escape the idol by sinking deeper into the couch, but Rose gets closer to you. Her face right above yours, her thighs trapping yours, her other hand is right on your—

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to hold back!”

Rose is gone, the small of her back back in her seat, her entire body far away from yours. Her entire body? No. You could never forget about her bare feet, which she raises from the carpet and places them on your piping hot bulge. In an attempt at torture, she giggles while rubbing you in between her tiny toes, curling them, pressing them against the head of your hidden cock.

“What if I don’t want you to hold back?” she whispers and fiddles with the top of her dress.

“Rose, I—”

"Don’t talk, Daddy, just

“Take me.”

Drop these useless devices, there will be no record of what is about to happen. Rose’s last sentence has ended the interview before it even started. If you can’t talk with your mouth, your hands will have to do the talking. Nothing stops you from popping open your dress pants, yanking them down your legs, your bulge the only real(ly massive) obstacle, and getting a hold of Rose’s feet.

She smiles, pale cheeks blushing at your sight and the feeling of your cock on her soles. You adjust them, making a perfect pocket to thrust into, but before you can jerk your hips upwards, Rose has taken the lead with this absolutely dreamy look in her eyes.

“Oh Daddy~” Rose moans and moves her feet up and down your length. “You are so big and girthy. Let me worship you with my feet, pretty please.”

“I-I… you’re already doing it, Rosie,” you hiss, her soft soles feeling incredible, yet you wish for some kind of lubrication for things to go smoothly.

Rose nods, her breathing getting more rapid by the second: “It’s just that I—I can’t hold back anymore. Daddy, I need to make you cover my feet, Daddy!”

Not holding back, not holding back, not—you grab Rose’s left calf and as she still yelps in shock, you put her toes in your mouth. With all manners thrown out of the window, you slobber all over her pretty little foot, spit covering every inch of her spotless skin. Rose starts to moan, her other foot teasing the sensitive underside of your shaft, forcing droplets of clean precum out of the tip.

Done with one foot, you take the other and everything leads up to this vicious cycle of covering one foot in drool while the other massages your member, smearing it with your saliva. You take a second to open your eyes and look at the idol before you. She has melted into the chair, biting the fingers of one hand while the other is rubbing her clothed crotch.

"Take them off," you mindlessly groan, before your tongue twirls around her toes. "Take off your clothes for Daddy."

Rose is eager to nod at you using the uncalled for, yet not unwanted nickname. Her eagerness does not stop there however, as she is quick to get rid of her tight white outfit, the thin strings fly over her head, her skirt travels down her legs. Before they reach her feet, she starts to jerk you off, keeping you hard and horny the few short seconds without stimulation.

"Daddy, please plaster your thick cum on my feet!" Rose moans as she inserts two fingers into her cunt.

"I won't hold back."

Pull her ankles close to you. Rose almost falls off her chair, eyes in surprise, then bliss. She is piercing herself open, her fragile legs weak, fully under her control. She loses her mind, you help her lose it and you lose your mind, she helps you lose it and you lose your train of thought—fuck it, fuck her feet.

"Daddy, y-you really seem to like me feet~"

"Fuck, they are the softest."

Move your hips back and forth, her ankles forth and back, squeeze them tighter around your cock. Watch your tip poke through it, watch Rose's finger move in and out, watch her tongue fall out of her mouth. It's all getting you closer, your breathing is rapid, Rose's too. Is she also—

"Daddy, I'm so~close~" the idol mewls and you thrust faster.

"Finger yourself stupid!" you command. "Watch me paint your feet, fuck!"

Rose's eyes tremble. She can barely focus on your erupting cock as her own sex explodes in a violent, squirting orgasm that leaves her thighs and chair in a messy, wet puddle. A deep, echoing, dumb sounding scream comes from her wide open mouth. She is the opposite of you, quietly relishing in the bliss of a climax that sends strings of cum all over soles, feet, even up to her legs.

Before the tremble of Rose's legs makes your semen fall off of them onto the carpet, you quickly fold her in half. The surprisingly flexible woman now has her cum-covered feet dangling above her delirious, glowing face.

"Open your mouth, baby girl," you whisper and watch Rose instinctively stick out her tongue. Your cum drips from her thin legs and feet straight on her face. Rose licks off whatever she can get in desperate desire, while you poke her exposed labia with your stiff cock.

"How does it taste?" you jokingly ask, ready to penetrate her pristine pussy.

"Is this really the first question to your interview?"

"There was an interview?"

Oh fuck.

"Oh fuck!" Rose vocalizes your inner thought as her pussy engulfs your entire length. You can feel her sensitive walls wrap around you, cling onto you, like she wants to squeeze more of your initial load out of you. No, you first have to get there, but with this incredible tightness and her insanely lewd expression as she swallows your dripping cum, she will have you cumming in no time.

"F-forget the interview," Rose whines. "I'll send you the answers per, per mail."

"No, we'll do the interview. Now," you growl at her, fingers tightly grabbing her small thighs. "You'll answer truthfully, baby girl."

"Hng, I-I can't think!"

"No need to. Just tell me: who fucks you better?"

"Wha—ah!"

Rose screams, laughs when you tickle her feet by spreading the remnants of your first load over her soles. Through all of it you start to thrust slower but harder, the depths of her cunt spread widely by your tip. You watch Rose throw her head back and decide to ask again.

"Who fucks you better, Rose? Your boyfriend or me?"

"You, oh God, you!"

"And who did you wear this white polish for?"

"Y-you, I'm only fucking you."

You ponder for a second, resting a hand on her throat. Rose suddenly has these puppy eyes that lack lewdness but increase your desire to dump a ridiculously large second load in her tight cunt.

"God, you look so breedable," you groan and lean down to her face, strands of rose-gold hair not hiding but increasing her stunningness. "But remember: I'm the one fucking you."

"Yes, Daddy." Rose seems to brace for a hard final fucking, but you don't want to give it to her. You feel great, fully inside her small pussy, her juices around you, keeping you wet and warm.

"Final question, Mrs. sluttiest idol:

"Where do you want my seed?"

"I need it in my pussy, Daddy~"

"You need it?"

"Of course, Daddy~ Fill me up!"

A loving thumb crazing her cheek, that's your final showing of mercy. Her ponytail in one hand, clit pinch with the other, you start to jackhammer into Rose's pussy with all the power the word 'Daddy' has given you. You won't be able to keep this up for long, but Rose is already a mess, nothing compared to the powerful idol from before.

She wants to be the little messy nothing on the chair, drilled by a big cock, her painted feet high in the air, her pussy convulsing. That's the way she wants to milk you, get your seed, and with a final thrust (and final, very harsh pull on her hair) you start to cum inside her.

"So warm, Daddy, ah!"

Fuck the interview or Fuck: The Interview? you think as you see you either losing your job or having the most incredible career of anyone in this industry.

[just-jordie-things]

[part fifteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 5.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part fifteen] : “The Whole Truth”

___

She’d been in this room before, more times than she could count on both hands, but standing here now, (y/n) suddenly is overwhelmed with the anxiety that she’s invaded a very private space.  Despite the fact that she was asked to come in, despite the fact that she’s there with one of her oldest friends- if she could still consider him that- when she’s standing before him, she’s overcome with the urge to find an excuse to leave.

Her fingers curl around the paper bag that’s still in her hands, the parting gift she’d gotten for him, and she comes back to earth for long enough to extend it to him.

“I got you mochi,” She says softly.  Satoru takes the bag to inspect its contents.  “From that place you like that’s always way too busy”

Still holding the bag open, Sartoru’s eyes slide upwards, peering over the top of his sunglasses questioningly, already feeling a motive behind the random gift.

“So busy you had to wait overnight?” He questions, and (y/n) frowns.

“I picked them up this morning,” She says, the previously level tone she’d kept her voice at dropping, just enough to let him know that his comment irritated her.  “So they’d be fresh”

Satoru nods, before rolling the top of the paper bag shut and setting it on his desk.  (y/n) doesn’t say a word as he lets out a huff, his peace clearly disturbed by her already, before he leans back against his door and crosses his arms.

“What’s this all about then?” He asks, in an uncharacteristically bored tone.  “Is it an apology..?” He shakes his head as though he couldn’t fathom the idea.  “Because I don’t need an explanation, I’ve heard enough-”

“Satoru, I don’t want to-”

“Fight?” He finishes her thought with a scoff, a bitter laugh escaping him before he looks over her again, her nervous stance, her tired features.  His annoyance quickly burns into something uglier.  “I mean, was it worth it?”

(y/n) blinks in surprise, and hearing the same question that Suguru had asked her just a few weeks ago has her blood running cold.  What a bitter feeling of deja vu.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” She says quietly, ducking her head so that she didn’t have to look at him while she spoke.  “And… and I don’t expect you to forgive me.  I know I wouldn’t,”

That has Satoru’s muscles relaxing, and he doesn’t cut her off this time when she speaks.  He lets curiosity get the best of him as he hears her out.

“But I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t even try to tell you how sorry I am before…” She trails off, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip to keep her from saying too much.

Her throat feels like someone had just poured lighter fluid down it and dropped a match.

Satoru leans off the door then, his head cocked and his eyebrow arched as he tries to fill in the blanks she’d left.

“Before what?” He asks.

(y/n’s) eyes nervously meet his but it’s fleeting before she turns away again, this time fixing her gaze on a single photo taped to his wall.  It displayed all four of them, having a picnic during their first year.  

For a brief moment, she’s transported to the memory, remembering the way Shoko had giggled as she held out the camera, her face barely in the shot but the peace sign she held her fingers in front and center.  Satoru has his arm slung around Suguru’s neck, pulling him into view as they both grin wide.  He has his other arm wrapped around (y/n’s) middle, forcing her to be in the photo as well.  She remembered trying to scramble away before Shoko could snap the shot, and how tight but not uncomfortable Satoru’s hold on her had been.  She remembers squealing as she tried prying his arm off her, but in the picture, it looks like she’s grinning happily, clutching his arm almost lovingly.  It looks like she not only gives into his hold, but embraces it.

It brings a sad smile to her face now, and she wonders if she had embraced it, no matter how hard she tried to tell everyone she didn’t.  

“(y/n),” Satoru steps forward, jarring her thoughts as she whips her attention back to him.  “Before what?” He repeats his question.

Her lips part, an excuse writing itself on her tongue, but she can’t bring herself to say it.  In the grand scheme of things, one more lie meant nothing.  Satoru already thought so little of her that it wouldn’t matter how much more damage she could create.

But she just couldn’t do it.

“I’m…” Her voice fails her, and she clears her throat before trying again.  “I’m leaving”

Her voice still cracks when she says it, but she tries to maintain eye contact so that he knows she meant it.  This wasn’t another act of deceit, which he believed it to be as the words first processed in his mind, but the longer he stares at her and sees that her expression is unwavering, the more he realizes she had meant it.

He would have preferred another lie.

“No you aren’t” He says in disbelief, hoping, praying she’d finally fucking learned how to lie and he could call her bluff.

(y/n) nods her head in a small motion.

“Yes, I am,” She says softly.  “I just wanted to try to make things right before I-”

“No- no, you’re fucking explaining yourself this time,” Satoru cuts her off, his arms falling from their defensive stance over his chest.  “You don’t get to just- fuck- are you quitting? Is this about Suguru?”

That seemed to catch her attention, as her face fell as she shook her head adamantly.

“No,” The word comes out solid, and it’s the loudest she’s spoken since she’d come into his room, even though she still hasn’t reached a normal speaking volume.  “It’s not about him, at least, not entirely.  It certainly hasn’t helped-”

“Then why? Why do you have to go?” He asks, his words coming out in such a rush they almost slur together.  “Where are you going? What is this about?”

“I…” She wants to explain herself, but there’s nothing for her to say.  “Satoru, I can’t…”

It’s quiet for a moment, while he hopes she could just find the words to tell him, to help him understand why she’d been pulling away so much, why it had brought her to the point of leaving entirely.  He waits, impatiently so, while his eyes search hers desperately for some kind of reasoning.

After a minute, it dawns on him that she won’t explain it to him.  Even now, she won’t tell him the full truth.  He wants to hate her for giving him scraps of clues of what’s been going on in her world, he wants to tell her off, tell her to leave just as she’d told him.

But just as she can’t tell him the whole truth in fear of hurting him, he can’t tell her to leave in fear of hurting her.  It was a vicious cycle they had been putting themselves through.

A thought comes creeping up in his head, and he doesn’t want to speak it into existence, but he does anyway.  If she really was leaving, he might as well try to uncover the truth.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” He asks, quietly, afraid that it was the truth.  “The Zen’ins?”

(y/n) fights the urge to show any expression of emotion, but it’s not enough.  Satoru is quicker, and catches the flicker of recognition in her eyes.  He’d guessed correctly.

“What is it then?” He asks dejectedly.  “They’re moving you into their weird fucking compound of a house? Are they arranging your marriage? You’re just going to skip along and follow their old, backwards lifestyle? Do you really want that?”

He gets carried away rather quickly, the reality of the situation hitting him the longer he thinks about what her life would become if she really did go down that path.

(y/n’s) breathing is rapidly increasing, and she realizes that no matter what she’d done, if she’d continued with the lie or admitted the truth, Satoru was always going to be hurt.  Tears prick her eyes as she tries to come up with a solution that would put him at ease, at least until she flees first thing in the morning.

When she doesn’t say anything, Satoru takes quick steps forward to close the remaining space between them.  (y/n) has to tilt her head up to look at him properly, her eyes wide at the sudden action.

This was the part where he told her everything he’d said in her nightmare, she thinks as she stares up at him.  This is all your fault.  This is what you deserve.

He’d meant to tell her that this was her mistake to make, that he wouldn’t stop her if she went through with it, even if he found it ridiculously foolish.  But then he got a good look at her, at the way she was holding back her tears, even in her physical exhaustion, she fought the will to cry.

And Satoru softened.

He pauses before her, and everything around them pauses for a moment as he kept watch of those eyes he’d been staring at for years.  He’d seen every flicker of emotion one could in them.  He’d seen the way they brightened when she smiled, how they crinkled when she laughed, how she looked when she was surprised, or angry, and he’d seen them sad before, too.

But he’d never seen them helpless.

And although everything she’d been saying had been in an effort to push him away, there was something swimming in those irises that was trying to communicate something else entirely.  She was lost.

With a sigh, Satoru pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. Not caring that they got tangled in his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He huffs, and (y/n) blinks in surprise at the affectionate nickname.  “What’s going on?

She blinks again, but she keeps her lips sealed shut.  Even if she tried to speak, she’d be a sputtering mess.

“You know…” He speaks carefully, making sure to pick just the right words.  “You know that you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, right?” The question comes out in a whisper, as though there were prying ears to hide from.  “And if you need help-”

“It’s not like that”

Just as she suspected, her voice comes out in a strained whimper.  Satoru frowns.

“You’re crying,” He states the obvious.  “And you’re telling me that you’re leaving but you’re still not telling me why”

“Because I can’t,” (y/n) speaks again, and this time is no better.  “I just can’t, okay? I’m sorry-”

“Well you’re going to have to,” He says decidedly, his hands wrapping around her shoulders.  “Because something isn’t adding up, and I can’t just let you go when you’re like this,”

Against her will, a tear slips down her cheek as she looks up at him.  She shudders as she takes a deep breath.

“Please, (y/n/n),” He says softly, “Who’s done this to you? Who’s hurt you?”

Another shudder rattles through her as she tries to breathe normally, and she curses him internally when a warm hand touches her cheek, wiping away the stray tear and bringing her an undeserved amount of comfort.

“I… I can’t,” She mumbles, closing her eyes as she draws her face away from him, before she steps away from him altogether.  “I can’t bring you into it” She finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru shakes his head, filling the distance she’d tried to put between them.

“Well it’s too late for that, so you may as well tell me anyways,” He says, trying to sound comforting, and he has no idea just how much she longed to be comforted by him.  

She drops her head so that she couldn’t be tempted by him again.

“(y/n),” He tries to bring her to look at him again, but she won’t.  Hesitantly, he reaches his hands out to her, his fingers grazing over her knuckles.  “I won’t know rest until I know you do,” He admits.  “So I’m begging you, okay?”

She sniffles, and closes her eyes tighter while his fingers carefully wrap around hers.

“I can’t hurt you anymore” Her voice still shakes, and Satoru doesn’t know how much more of this his heart could take.

His resentment towards her these last few weeks had been washed away so easily by his overwhelming need to protect her, and he’s never felt so strongly about doing so until this moment.

This wasn’t how he’d seen her cry before.  This wasn’t how she’d behaved when Haibara Yu had passed.  This wasn’t how she’d behaved in her desperate rage to push him away.  This wasn’t her.  He knew deep down something was terribly wrong, and he didn’t care what it was, he just wanted to make it go away.  He just wanted her to be herself again, to be okay, to be happy.

“You won’t,” He murmurs, still unsure if it was a lie.  “You won’t,” He repeats himself with fervor.  “There’s nothing you could tell me that would hurt me, sweetheart, okay? So just… just tell me what he’s done, and I’ll fix it”

(y/n) looks up at him then, realizing now that Shoko must have filled in the gaps of her lies between them, and that Satoru truly does believe she’s gotten into trouble with a suitor of some sort from the Zen’in Clan.  Any thought of lying through her teeth escapes her mind, as she looks at him now, all she can find in his eyes is pure honesty.

He’s serious, and it’s almost tangible before her.  She fears that he really would do anything to put her at ease, and she fears that she would do the same for him.

She fears that she’s in this situation because she’d tried to do the same for him.

She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t understand the feeling, but she chases it, in hopes that it would guide her to do right by him.

“I’m not seeing someone from the Zen’in Clan”

It’s the clearest she’s spoken in a few minutes, but Satoru hesitates as though he still had to make out what she’d said.  (y/n) doesn’t blame him.  She’s just as surprised by herself as he is.

“You’re not?” He mumbles in disbelief, his brows drawing together in a confused knot.

“I’m not,” She whispers back.  “I… I never was” She adds with a small shrug of her shoulder.

Satoru blinks a few times, his eyes flickering between hers, just to be sure that she was once again telling the truth.  He doesn’t find an ounce of insincerity on her, but it still doesn’t bring him much comfort.

Suddenly, his hands are squeezing around hers, and he’s bringing them to his chest, holding them close as though the action alone could convince her to stay.  (y/n) almost stumbles from the action, but catches her footing before she could fall into him.

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks the nagging question on his mind.

Her tears threaten to spill over her lashes, and her hesitation tells him she still isn’t ready to give him the full truth.  She tries to think about Megumi, about Tsumiki, and everything she was going to do to ensure their safety.

“There must be a reason if you’re going to put yourself through this much trouble,” He voices his thoughts while (y/n) tries to blink her tears away.  “What is it, sweetheart? You have to tell me”

“Sa-toru,” She chokes on his name, her eyes falling shut as a last ditch effort to keep all of her tears from falling.  She tries to pull her hands out of his, but he keeps them in a firm grasp, and she doesn’t have the will to snatch them back.  “I just can’t- please, please forgive me,”

She hiccups, and closes her eyes tighter, even though she can feel wetness racing down her cheeks.

“I just have to protect you, I can protect all of you, but you have- you have to let me-” She’s cut off by another hiccup, and when she opens her eyes again all of the tears she’d tried to hold back are streaming down her face.  “I know it’s not fair, but it’s the only way I can keep you safe”

Satoru’s eyes blink wide in surprise, his brain desperately trying to connect the dots, trying to figure out who she’s talking about, who she’s protecting, and from what?

He doesn’t rush to ask her these questions, instead he shushes her gently, and brings her over to his bed so she could take a seat.  She wants to fight him, but she doesn’t.

“Alright,” He hums, releasing one of her hands so he could catch her tears against his finger, flicking them away before they could stain her cheeks.  “Alright sweetheart, let’s start slow, alright?”

She shakes her head, unwilling to drag him down with her.  Satoru tries again anyway.

“There’s nothing you could do to jeopardize my safety, okay?” He tells her, wishing she’d look up at him.  When she doesn’t, he hooks his finger under her chin and gently lifts her head so she could see he meant it.  “Okay?” He asks again.

(y/n) lets out a shaky breath, and her eyes fall from his, landing on his throat.  She takes a few more breaths before finding her voice again.

“You’ve been hurt by my mistakes before,” She whispers.

He’s certain he couldn’t have heard her right, but he doesn’t try to speak over her.

Her eyes don’t move as she continues.

“I just can’t hurt you again,” She sighs.  “I’ve done it too much and… and it hurts me too” She admits the last part in a voice that barely reached a whisper, but he hears her clear as day.

“I understand,” He hums.  “But you have to understand that I can’t ignore this anymore, (y/n).  Whatever this is, it’s killing you.  And I can’t just let that happen”

“I had a chance to kill Fushiguro Toji,”

Her voice is raw, sore from her crying, strained from her whispering, but she forces herself to speak anyways.

“The day we were sent after Riko Amanai,” (y/n) continues, still staring at the spot on his throat where he’d shown her Toji’s blade had cut clean through.  “When we parted ways that day, I ran into him,”

Satoru hung onto her every word, wondering where she could possibly be going with this, and why she hadn’t told him sooner.  Although so far, the truth didn’t seem too harmful, there was a nagging pull on his heart that led him to believe somewhere, sometime, things had gone completely wrong.

“Just by accident,” (y/n) continued, shrugging her shoulders in thought.  “Or maybe it was fate, I don’t know what led me to him that day, but…”

Finally, her eyes flickered up to his, and she swallowed the remaining lump in her throat before speaking again.

“I overheard a conversation he was having, on the phone,”

Satoru nods, understanding the story so far, while he waits patiently for her to continue.

“He mentioned… he mentioned children,” (y/n) said through a shaky exhale of breath.  “And I just… I just had to follow him, I had to learn more, I don’t know why, but it just nagged at me, and I…”

She turns her head, her eyes landing on that photo on the wall again as she thinks back to that day.  The way she felt in the beginning of this all, desperately searching for Megumi and Tsumiki like their lives, her life, depended on it.  And now, because of her, they did.

Satoru watched her as she stared at the photo for a long moment, trying to collect her thoughts.  He was on the edge of his seat, but he didn’t say anything to rush her into explaining further.

He looked down at the hand that still sat in his, limp and clammy from her nerves.  He squeezed it gently before running the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

(y/n) looked back at him right away, almost jolted by the small gesture, but Satoru kept his focus on the small motion of comfort.

“He had children,” She whispers out the truth like it was a damning piece of information.  “Two children.  Young.  A girl, and a boy”

When Satoru finally meets her gaze again, she’s no longer crying, but she’s still giving him that hopeless look, as though she’d done something terrible that she couldn’t take back.

“That’s where you were when you disappeared that weekend?” He finally spoke after listening to her so intently.  (y/n) chewed on her lip as she slowly nodded her head.

“I followed him but I… I lost him..” Her eyes trailed back down to his throat, and now he understood what she’d been staring at.

She’d been watching the place on his throat where Toji had stabbed him that day.  Oh, he realizes, all too slowly, she blamed herself.  As soon as he puts the pieces together, he squeezes her hand again, as though requesting her attention again.

“That wasn’t your fault”

“I could have-”

“That wasn’t your fault”

“But I was there”

“(y/n),” Satoru’s voice is firm now, and she snaps her mouth shut.  “You couldn’t have known,” He tells her, sure of every word he spoke.  “There was nothing that you could have done differently to prevent it.  There was nothing I could have done differently to prevent it,”

She sighs, her eyes falling to her lap as that dreaded feeling of uselessness washed over her.

“And need I remind you, I’m fine?” He adds, pulling her hand upwards, gently laying it at the base of his throat while keeping his palm over her hand.  “Just a little mark,” He whispers while (y/n’s) eyes linger on the spot.

This must be his most vulnerable spot, she thinks, after what happened, no matter what he says, he must have some trauma from the incident.  And yet, he lowers his infinity, and lets her rest her trembling fingers there.

Her eyes meet his unsurely.

“I need you to believe me when I say it’s not your fault”

“Okay,” She whispers back.  “Then I need you to believe me when I tell you I have to go”

Satoru shakes his head, his fingers curling around hers again, dropping her hand from his throat and against his leg.

“I can’t do that, sweetheart” He sighs.

“Why?” She whispers back, her eyes flickering between his, trying to figure out why it was he cared so much about this.  “I’m… I’m going to do a terrible thing tomorrow”

Satoru raises a curious brow.

“Is that so?”

She nods back at him, frowning.

“It will be unforgivable,” She whispers.  “But I don’t have a choice,” Her voice cracks again, but this time it’s just the reality of her situation crushing down on her.  “I can’t lose them”

“Lose who, sweetheart?” Satoru asks, his brows furrowing now, as he was missing a vital piece of information she hadn’t shared yet.

“I found them,” She whispered, almost gravely.  “I found Fushiguro Toji’s children”

The confession processes slowly, and then all at once, and (y/n) watches as he begins to put all the pieces together in real time.

Those children weren’t just poor abandoned things left to live their days out in some broken, unjust system society deemed charitable.  No, they weren’t your average non-curse users.  They were property.  Valuable property.  

They were Zen’in property.  And it was only a matter of time before the clan would come to collect them.

“I see,” Satoru hums.  “So you…”

“I’ve been sneaking off campus for eight months to take care of them” (y/n) whispers.

Every time he caught her in an odd lie, every time she’d go missing as soon as classes were out, the tutoring, the dodging of plans, it all came flooding back to him now, in a completely different light.

“Oh…” He mumbles, leaning back slightly as he was still processing it all.

“Yeah,” (y/n) sighs, hanging her head.  “They’ve sent a notice that they’ll be collecting the boy, Megumi.  His cursed technique has begun to manifest… just like Zen’ins to care when there’s enough power involved”

“What is it?” Satoru mumbles, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.

“Ten shadows” (y/n) answers, also refusing to look at him.

Fuck.

Satoru runs his free hand over his face, trying to come up with a solution and fast, because he didn’t know how much time they had to keep him from the Zen’in’s greedy clutches.

“I’m to bring him to them tomorrow,” (y/n) says.  “They don’t have an interest in the girl, she was born a non-curse user.  And the two can’t bear to be split apart so…” She trails off, nervously looking Satoru’s way.  “So I’m going tomorrow to… make my case”

“Make your case?”

Satoru repeats the words back to her in disbelief, because he knows just as well as she does that the Zen’in Clan don’t just hear people out.  They’ll take what’s theirs by whatever means necessary, and if she went to them tomorrow then-

Fuck.

It hits him then as he looks back at her, her glossed over eyes and frowning lips, he knows exactly why she’d come to tell him goodbye.

“No, you’re not-”

“I have to”

“(y/n) that’s a death sentence” Satoru stands up from the bed now, her hand falling from his as he stands before her.  Her expression doesn’t falter, not once.

“I’m not losing them” She tells him, clearly, and he knows she means it, but he can’t possibly accept this.

“And that cost is your life?” He raises his voice, although he tries not to yell, he can’t help it as it all sinks into his veins, the situation she’s in.  

Why couldn’t she have come to him sooner?

He begins to pace in front of her.  (y/n) remains calmly sat before him, letting him process however he needed to.  As much as it had hurt, she’d made her peace with it all.  It’s simply what she had to do.

“It doesn’t matter how much you train yourself to death, (y/n), if you walk in there tomorrow with any malicious intent, they’ll strike you down.  They’re an entire clan, (y/n), do you understand that?”

“I do” She whispers with a small nod of her head.

He shakes his head at her, his hands on his hips as he huffs and moves about the room sporadically.

“No, you can’t possibly understand it, because you wouldn’t just be sitting here right now-!”

“Satoru,” She calls his name softly, and while her voice is much smaller than his, he quiets immediately.  “I do understand,” She tells him with another nod.  “I love them,”

His features fall, softening as he sees her small smile begin to break through a painfully hurt exterior.

“I do.  I love them so much.  And I won’t let anything hurt them for the rest of their lives,” She tells him while he’s still frozen in front of her.  “So I have to go.  I have everything prepared, I’ve left them as much money as I can, a few cursed tools I’ve given them and hidden in their house that I’ve imbued with my cursed energy to protect them even if I…” She trails off, not wanting to admit the dark fate that would be in store for her come tomorrow.  “But now that you know, can you promise me something?”

Satoru doesn’t answer, still stuck in front of her, hearing her horrid confession play on repeat in his head.  She was really planning on this? She really was going to go through with this?

“Promise me you’ll keep an eye out for them?” She asks, and no matter how much she tries to keep her breaths even, he can hear the shakiness in the exhale she lets out.  “You don’t have to watch their every move but… just make sure they’re safe, here and there?”

Her brows draw together as she stares at him with utter hope.  She knows that she doesn’t deserve a favor from him, after everything she’s put him through, but if she had to, she’d beg him to make sure her kids were safe when she’s gone.

The room is silent for a few beats, before slowly, Satoru kneels himself to the ground before her, bringing himself to her eye level.  (y/n) stares at him steadily, and he’s close enough that she longs to reach out, to hold him by his jaw and make him swear he’d do her one last favor.

“You’re not doing this,” He tells her, quietly.  “I can’t let you”

“I have to”

“You don’t”

“I don’t have another choice,” She’s quicker with her words, more decided, unwavering in her choice.  “The Zen’ins, they sent men to the house this morning, to intimidate me, or scope out the area, I don’t know.  But they aren’t just going to back down now.  They’re going to take Megumi whether I try to stop them or not”

“We’ll think of something else” Satoru says surely.

“There’s no time,” (y/n) whispers back.  “Tomorrow I’ll put as strong of a curtain over their house as I possibly can and then I’ll go face Zen’in Naobito myself,” She tells him her plan in hopes that he would accept this was her final decision. “So I… I need you to promise me you’ll check in on them”

Satoru’s eyes don’t leave hers as she says this, and he can see that she means every last word.  He’d never pegged (y/n) as someone to have the stomach for cold blooded murder, but he can see now that something had changed, and the love she had for these children would drive her to do anything to protect them.

“You’ll die” He whispers back, knowing that she’s well aware.

(y/n) musters up the courage to give him a small smile, although it still carries the weight of her sadness, it is genuine.  She only hopes to bring him some semblance of comfort in knowing that this was her decision and hers alone, and that she’d found solace in it.

“Promise me,” Is all she replies with, followed by an even softer, “Please”

Was mochi supposed to make up for all of this? Satoru wonders as his eyes flicker between hers.  

While he’s sitting here fighting the urge to completely break down in front of her, she was trying to convince him that she was okay with this plan, that throwing herself into the wolf’s den in the name of love was her only choice.  He wants to tell her she’s completely deluded, that he’d chain her down and keep her here if he had to in order to keep her from making the sacrificing play.  And a part of him knows that he would really do it.

Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath and tries to run through every possibility on how this could end.  He doesn’t like what he comes up with.

“Satoru,” (y/n) calls softly, and when he looks up at her again, her hand is hesitating over his shoulder.  It takes her a minute before she lays it there, and she lets out a deep sigh before speaking again.  “I’m sorry,”

Her eyes follow the trail of a single tear slipping down his cheek, and she has to remind herself why she has to do this.

“If by some miracle I live, I’ll send you a postcard” She means to jest, but her voice is too soft, and the way her eyebrows sink as her eyes meet his again tells him she barely believes her own words.

Her hand falls from his shoulder as she stands from the bed, and Satoru’s quick to get up to his feet too, stopping her before she could leave.

“Stay,” He says before he can think of something better to say.  “Don’t go yet, stay, please, let’s think of a better plan, together, okay?”

He’s rushing through his words again, desperate to keep her here long enough that he alone could solve all of it for her.

(y/n) opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Satoru cuts her off before she could even start.

“Let me help you,” He pleads, stepping closer to her, leaving little to no space between them.  Her eyes noticeably widen at this, but she remains silent.  “You didn’t have my help before, I could get you out of this, we can come up with a way to keep the kids and you safe, okay?”

She’s frowning at him, but she doesn’t walk away from him either, so Satoru thinks he has a chance at making her cave.

“Please?” His hands grab onto hers, the action harsher than it had been before, desperate, even.  “Please, (y/n), I just can’t accept this.  You can’t do this… not without at least talking about it first, okay?”

(y/n) ducks her head and slowly begins to pull her hands out of his, although she longed to stand there with him holding them for the rest of time, as he’d always reminded her that she would never find comfort in another person the way she felt it with him.  She knows that if she stays any longer, then she’ll never leave.

And it was the right thing to walk away, right?

Satoru lets her pull her hands back to her stomach where she could wring them together as some form of control over her nerves.  He doesn’t mind that she tries to pull away from him, because he’s quicker.

When she feels the warmth of two palms resting on either side of her face, lifting her head so she’d look at him properly, (y/n) knows right away that she wouldn’t be walking away anytime soon.

Satoru’s hands are warm, smooth, and no matter where they are on her they still bring her that same blanket of comfort.  They’re so delicately firm, cupped around her face to keep her looking at him.  They’re so solidly gentle that she couldn’t break away from them if she wanted to.

She already knows her answer as soon as he speaks, although she can’t quite explain how she folds so easily, she decides to blame it on her overwhelming physical and mental exhaustion.

“Stay”

___

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru​ @kamikokii​ @nerdiel-has-no-braincells​ @googlesheetshoe​ @vzleria​ @hilzup @cole-silas @iam-mia9 @stxrrielle @ezrahour @whatamidoing89​ @idioseasworld​ @yuuuumii​ @l0diluvs​ @miffysoo​ @chibiizzy​

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[dumplingsfordays]

sighs of sleep

pairing - gepard x gn!reader (they/them)

genre - fluff

summary - a hallucination of your sleep-deprived brain keeps you awake late at night, so you visit your roommate across the hall to ask to sleep in his room.

cw! - fluff, mentions of stalking (not by gepard or reader), comfort, overly kind/doormat!reader, pining (mostly from gepard), shy!gepard, overthinking!gepard, hugging while sleeping in the same bed, swearing, gepard has a lil crush on reader <3, gepard and reader are roommates

i wrote this entire thing at like 1 in the morning so apologies for any mistakes...

kinda based on a dream of mine where I saw this white face in my window and it freaked be out so ig this is self-indulgence (again lmao)

i love this art so much 😭😭 geppie's so sweet. art credit!!

playlist : after dark (mr kitty), neglect (mr kitty), the beach (instrumental, slowed, and reverb) (the neighbourhood)

As always, thank you for reading :)

++++

It was dark in your room.

Nightfall had come several hours before, but when you leaned back in your chair and looked over at the small icon at the bottom-right of the laptop in front of you, you were surprised to read '2:26 AM' in white lettering. You didn't think that you've been working for so long, and yet, somehow, time passed much quicker than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on pulling an all-nighter - in fact, you initially wanted to watch a movie in your pajamas, maybe with a snack or something to drink, and then go to sleep at what would be considered a reasonable hour for Fridays. And then, after you slept, you would awake feeling perfectly rested, and maybe sleep in for a change. But noooo, apparently that was asking too much, because some annoying coworkers decided to call you last-minute at 1 in the morning to ask you to fill out some documents.

You were kind and helpful, and not wanting to disappoint, you did what they asked of you. Voila! Here you were - finished, emails sent, eyes riddled with exhaustion, hands aching, brain desperately wanting to sleep.

You stood up from your seat with a sigh, and languidly lumbered over to your bed. You didn't bother to put on pajamas when you undressed - you were way too tired for that. As you looked over to the window opposite your bed, however-

You saw something, peeking underneath the half-closed blinds.

In your now-fleeting memory of it, it seemed to be a ghostly, white, featureless face that briefly appeared and disappeared when you looked over to the window, and you were still naked.

Was this a stalker? Some creepy person that magically climbed up to the second-story window to look at your bare form?

Your shivered at the thought, and immediately grabbed the shirt that your were wearing. You shoved it on, pulling down slightly on its hem to help cover your body, and ran towards the blinds to lower them, just in case this face was an actual person and not just a hallucination provided by your sleepless brain.

Even when you lowered the blinds, however, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You didn't have any cameras in your room, and your roommate wasn't the type of person to install them without your request to do so.

You finally decided that you wanted to sleep, and trying your utmost best to forget this event, you crawled into your bed and turned off the lights.

But your stubborn, sleep-deprived brain was a cruel mistress, and to your anguish, kept conjuring up the blank face's image in the darkness. You adjusted your sleeping position over and over, praying to whatever god that would listen to finally grant you rest... to no avail. You remained awake and restless, and when you finally had enough of your brain's shenanigans, you turned on the lights. You hastily tossed on a pair of sleep shorts, and with a sort of fright mixed with vigor, opened the door to the hallway of your shared dorm.

You could still see a faint yellow light underneath the door across from you, and thanking nobody in particular that he was still awake and that you didn't have to wake him, you knocked three times on his door.

Frantic shuffling from inside the room ensued, and you could hear a couple books falling to the floor before your roommate opened the door.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked with obvious concern in his voice. His pale blue tank top stretched a little as he put his hands on his hips. "You scared me."

"I was about to go to bed, and then, when I was changing, I saw a white face in the window, and I tried to ignore it and go to sleep, but then I couldn't because I felt like it was still watching me, and..." you trailed off, and tilted your head downwards. "I'm sorry for ranting, Gepard."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," he smiled gently, eyes half-lidded from a similar lack of sleep. "I think it's just your head making stuff up. If that doesn't reassure you enough to make you fall asleep, well, I don't really know what to say. Sorry."

You looked up at him, meeting his deep blue eyes. "Can I sleep with you tonight, then?"

A pause ensued as Gepard processed what you just said.

"...what?" he squeaked. His cheeks turned a bright red as he gaped at you.

"Wait! No! That's not what I meant, I promise!" you corrected, also turning red. "I meant sleep in the same room. You know, like a sleepover or something, but without the "staying up late" part, because we're already... up late... You know what? Nevermind. I'm sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing, and I'll just sleep on the couch downstairs. I'll bring some blankets and I should be just fine-"

"You can stay if you want to."

You looked over at Gepard (who was still as red as a cherry, and avoiding eye contact), wide-eyed as you took in what he said. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, the couch isn't that comfortable. You'll probably regret sleeping at all if you doze off there, and I don't mind you staying in my room anyways," he reassured. "Can you go grab blankets and stuff from your room? I'll clean up the place because I knocked over some books earlier, so..."

"Oh, um, sure," you blinked. "Thank you." You were sure that he would send you back after what you said.

You ran to your room and grabbed a pillow and blanket, but when you ransacked your drawers and closet for any sort of thick blankets or mat as possible padding between you and the floor, you came out empty-handed. You were nervous to ask Gepard if he had any usable padding material - he had done so much for you already, and you were sure that he was done putting up with your antics...

Rushing back to his room to not make him wait any longer, you stood by the doorframe as you watched him put the last of his toppled books into its place on the bookshelf.

From what you could see, his room was a tad minimalistic. Paintings of snowy sunsets and mountains decorated the white walls, and a multitude of potted plants (some of which were almost withered) were spread throughout his room, peeking from the top of his bookshelf, standing in front of his window, and some larger ones sitting on the floor. His bed was rather large, and it lay at the top right corner of the room, if you assumed that the door was in the middle of the bottom wall. His desk was across from his bed, to the right of the door, and his bookshelf, which stood in the middle of the left wall, housed an array of multicolored spines of books. His window, thankfully, was closed.

"You can come in, you know," he called as he turned his head to you.

"Thank you," you muttered, stepping inside his room. "Where should I put my stuff?"

He walked over to the center of the room, where you were standing awkwardly. He looked over the items in your hands.

"You don't have anything as padding? We have wooden floors."

"Yeah, I know," you said with a sigh. "I don't have anything."

"Neither do I... I mean, I can always sleep on the floor without padding, and-"

"You're not sleeping on the floor. It's your room."

"Yeah, but you can sleep on my bed and actually have a chance of falling asleep," he said.

"But you said that you couldn't fall asleep too," you remarked. "And you're putting up with my bullshit, so you get the bed."

"How about this? We split the bed in half with pillows, and we each get half. Does that work?"

"Oh- sure."

The two of you got to work. Luckily, you both had several pillows at hand, and Gepard's bed was big enough to perform the task, so you had it done in a couple minutes. You covered yourself with your blanket as he turned off the lights, and when you settled in among the darkness, you felt him shifting in his place.

"Goodnight," you heard him whisper.

"'Night," you replied, pulling your blanket further up to your neck.

But a little while later, your blanket stopped helping against the cold of his room. You didn't notice it before, but now, it was getting pretty chilly, and you couldn't help but lean closer to the row of pillows separating you two, subconsciously seeking warmth. Your thoughts were hazy, laced with sleep that was finally washing over you, but that little itch of cold was getting annoying. So you did the only thing that would have the smallest chance of waking him up and still receiving the warmth you needed - you came closer and closer to the pillow wall, until your hands finally felt his broad back through one of the thinner pillows.

To a very-much-still-awake Gepard's surprise, he felt your fingertips press against his back through a pillow. He thought that you were dreaming, that your brain was perceiving the pillows as a stuffed animal that you were "petting", but when your hands snaked around his torso, he realized that he was probably the stuffed animal (at least in your dreams). You were now hugging him.

If he was being honest with himself, he would probably describe his current feelings in one word: conflicting.

On one hand, he wanted to push your arms away. You were dreaming, that's it, and you needed something to hug. You needed to hug a pillow, not him - he wasn't at all like a pillow, he wasn't soft or light, he was, in his mind, a walking stone, hard and cold. He could give no comfort to you.

On another hand (the hand that Gepard deemed more selfish), he was rather comfortable like this. This felt right, for really no particular reason. A voice in the back of his head told him to do the same, to wrap his arms around you and protect you from anything and everything that ailed you. It whispered sweetness into his ear, vowing that you won't remember it when you wake up anyways, that this was his chance to face his feelings and act on them.

Sure, he's had a crush on you ever since you moved in together, but that doesn't excuse hugging you back when you were this close, right? But what would happen if he hugged you back, and you somehow remembered? What if you weren't sleeping at all and this was your way of flirting?

Y/N wasn't flirting, he thought. Definitely not with me. They wouldn't. They probably don't like me anyway.

Oh, but how he wanted to not overthink the situation and just do it already. This was his chance! What if you did like him back? What if you were flirting with him? A hug couldn't really ruin a 6-month-old friendship, could it?

He sighed as quietly as possible. He was going to do it. He was going to hug you, and he was going to roll the dice of Fate. Either you won't care, or you would lean into his arms, or you would push him away when you wake up. You were kind, merciful - would you really kick him out of the apartment because of a hug?

He stiffly turned around to face you, and got a full view of your serene, closed eyes. You were so pretty like this, he almost couldn't bear it.

Steeling himself, he screwed his eyes shut and reached his arms out to your form, wrapping them around your waist, supporting your back with his large hands. To his relief, you didn't show any signs of resistance - instead, you tilted your head closer to his, resting it against his collarbone as you let out a short, low hum.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

You were so warm, so soft, so fucking beautiful to him. He felt an overwhelming sense of immense joy and relief flood his system at your actions and couldn't help but brush away a stray lock of hair from your perfect, ethereal countenance, taking care to not disturb your sleep in any way. Small breaths escaped your oh-so-kissable lips like fleeting whispers of song, tickling his neck and shoulder lightly, and his heart beat faster and faster until it almost hurt from how close you were to him.

He couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

Your own heartbeat slowed as you fully fell asleep, content in his warm embrace, but Gepard's was still racing. He wanted to stay awake for as long as possible, to savor this moment of closeness for what could very well be the last time, but his eyes betrayed him - they were closing all on their own, and the last thing that he remembered before he fell asleep was the way that your chest rose and fell in time with your quiet sighs of sleep.

#gepard #honkai star rail #star rail #gepard landau #gepard fluff #gepard hsr #hsr #gepard star rail #gepard fanfic #fanfic #gepard x reader #gepard x y/n #gepard x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #he's so cute i literally can't #gepard comfort #love him <33

[tender-rosiey]

UNFAIR — atsumu x f!reader

ᴀ/ɴ: hehe atsumu ily

atsumu hisses when the ice pack makes contact with his cheek, and you mumble a small ‘sorry’. he has his arms folded and has been grumbling and murmuring curses since he has been seated down because of the ball he took to his face.

aran wasn’t really intending on paying him back for all the annoyance he had to endure and til now, but looks like fate decided that it’s time for justice.

aside from the grumbling, the room is mostly silent, until you speak up, voice soft and cautious, “have I done anything that upset you?”

you get nothing but silence in return, though you can tell that atsumu is rather conflicted. yeah, something is definitely bothering him. he also refuses to look you in the eye which makes you sigh before you talk, “well, whatever I did. I am sorry, it wasn’t my intention—“

he holds his head in frustration, “URGH!” burying his face in his knees, and you stare in bewilderment at his reaction. soon, his arms cover his face and he hugs his knees tighter to his chest.

“atsumu…?”

you hear him mumble, “it’s unfair.”

“what’s unfair?” you ask carefully.

his hand reach once again to his hair as he ruffles it in frustration, “you’re just way too pretty! I can’t even concentrate! It’s unfair to make ya a manager!”

you stay silent for a moment before a laugh erupts out of you which makes the blonde turn multiple shades of red, “it’s not funny! ‘am serious!”

you chuckle and your hand holds his own tenderly. atsumu’s eyes widen at the contact and he purses his lips to contain a gasp and scream of joy. “if it helps,” you start, “I also think you’re very handsome as well, like very handsome.”

his stare is blank and for a moment, you’re rather scared you actually killed the guy.

he stands up abruptly, his fists are clenched and is overly flustered, “well of course it doesn’t!” he falls to the ground in a rather theatrical manner and clutches his chest, “now I am gonna keep thinking about how to look cool so I can impress ya!”

“‘tsumu, stop bothering the manager,” his brother speaks up and atsumu’s head snaps to his direction so quickly, you thought he might’ve broken it.

“she is the one being way too pretty and distracting!”

osamu grimaces, “yeah okay no,” he gives his back to you, “I won’t stand here watching you two flirt, spare me that.”

atsumu pouts, but feels a light and fleeting touch on his cheek.

his hand covers his cheek softly while he looks at you, rather love struck but you couldn’t tell. you squirm under his gaze, “well…um—I will see you later!”

he sighs happily before sliding down the wall and laying on the floor, “she is so cute.”

“‘tsumu, practice time!”

atsumu jumps to his feet happily, “coming!”

looks like practice is going to be even more fun for him or he will take another ball to the face but with a smile this time.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @waosobii @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp

copyright © 2020 tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #atsumu scenarios #atsumu fluff #atsumu hcs #atsumu imagines #atsumu x female reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq #hq headcanons #hq imagines #hq x you

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Part 10

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, reader is not the spouse, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Things are still crazy right now, but I am managing. Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate it! This is another transitional chapter. Not much happens, other than the plot moving forward. You know, the meaning of "filler episode" really changes when you write 😅 The chapter isn't exciting or emotional, but it's still important to the overall plot and contains context for future chapters. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

The ride over to the Jedi Temple is quiet once Cara settles on Wolffe's lap. Most children fall asleep to the lull of a moving ship or speeder, and Cara is no exception. Wolffe doesn't mind, though. He prefers her to be asleep and peaceful than awake and chaotic. She's been through enough already, and yet, the tragedy is nowhere near over. Not by a long shot. Deep down he knows the funeral is going to rip off every band-aid he and the others have meticulously placed.

They can lie, dance around the truth, replace facts with illusion, and carefully craft misdirection, but at the end of the day, they can't hide it forever. The pain is painted across all of their faces. A grim truth they all know but refuse to acknowledge, even for Wolffe. No one wants to speak it aloud out of fear that maybe, just maybe, if they don't say it, it won't happen. But while trying to conceal it from Cara, they have disillusioned themselves with their own blank stares and frowns.

Wolffe stares out the window and watches as other speeders fly by, lost in his thoughts about the future. Not many clones think about the future, because it's not in their brain chemistry to look beyond anything other than their immediate present, but that changed for Wolffe after he met his wife. There was a moment where it felt like he unlocked a part of his brain. The part that wants to survive and thrive, instead of fight and die. It's a fleeting feeling, but there nonetheless.

He's wondering, not only about the funeral, but what comes after. What will he do when he gets a new assignment? He can't stay on Coruscant forever. No clone can. Wolffe scoffs at his own thoughts and corrects himself. In reality, the only clones who can stay on Coruscant forever are the Coruscant Guard. At this moment, Wolffe thinks they're lucky, even if they don't. Fox would kill to be back on the battlefield, and Wolffe would trade his command with Fox’s in a heartbeat.

However, Fox has his own life to lead and his own things to worry about on Coruscant. This is just how life is for the clones. It's a luck of the draw in who gets to be a commander and who gets stationed where. To the Republic, all clones are the same, so it shouldn't matter what clones go where, but to the clones, sometimes, it does matter. Clones who haven't been around long enough don't understand, and those who have, don't live long enough after they find out.

Wolffe is pulled from his thoughts when they arrive at the Jedi Temple. He peers out the window at the towering structure and breathes deep as he feels his heart rate increase. He's never been enthralled with the Jedi like other clones; finding their religion strange and their battle tactics even stranger. Perhaps it's the deep-seeded Mandalorian genes coursing through his veins that makes him wary of the so-called peacekeepers, even if Rex tries to convince him otherwise.

The only Jedi Wolffe remotely likes or cares about is his own. General Plo Koon saved him, Boost's, and Sinker's lives, and for that he owes him his undying loyalty. The rest he disregards. He serves them as he should, like any good soldier who follows orders, but that doesn't mean he has to like them or worship them. It's the Jedi that caused him to lose his first battalion, even though he alone received the demerits for it, much to his general's disgruntled displeasure.

To stand at the precipice of the Jedi Temple with the intent to leave his beloved daughter in the care of these Force-wielding wizards that aren't his general makes his skin crawl. Even with his disdain for the Jedi, it's still better than the alternative of Cara entering the foster care system, or even worse, being left in the care of her grandparents. That thought alone makes Wolffe bristle. At least with this arrangement, he can come and go within the Jedi Temple without explanation.

"Do you want to put your armor on?" Comet asks from across Wolffe.

Wolffe moves his gaze from the window to look down at Cara, who's still asleep in his lap, and then up at Comet. "Whenever I put my armor on, she thinks I'm leaving."

"Understood," Comet nods. "I'll have Aug– Warthog lug it to your new quarters."

Wolffe chuckles.

"I'll grab a box," Sinker says as he exits the speeder.

"I'll grab the other box," Boost says as he also exits the speeder.

Comet, Cara, and Wolffe are left alone in the speeder and Wolffe isn't keen on moving.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?" Comet asks.

"Would you?" Wolffe retorts, his disdain bleeding through. "Would you leave your kid with strangers? With Jedi?"

"It's not that bad," Comet says.

Wolffe huffs and looks back out the window. "You'll never understand."

"Guess not," Comet sighs. "I'll probably die before I fall in love and have a kid like you did."

Wolffe snaps his gaze back to Comet and glares at him. "Don't get insubordinate with me, Trooper."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Comet says before leaving the speeder.

Wolffe tilts his head back against the top of the seat and groans. He is such an idiot. Even after everything Comet did for him following his wife's death, everything he did for Cara, Wolffe still has the audacity to bite at him like he's some random shiny that stepped out of line. Pathetic. At least he continues to live up to his namesake, whether he's proud of it or not, because when you corner a wolf, it will lash out. He needs to get his fears, anxieties, and his temper under control.

"Daddy?" Cara says sleepily as she stirs on his lap.

Wolffe tilts his head back down and smiles. "Hi, baby."

Cara whines. "I wanna sleep."

Wolffe picks her up so she's sitting on his legs instead of laying on them, much to her protest. "Not yet. We need to get settled in our new room first, then you can have a nap."

Cara whines and wriggles against Wolffe.

"I know," Wolffe soothes as he exits the speeder and sits her on his hip. "Daddy wants a nap too, but can you stay awake for me for a little longer?"

Cara groans and moves restlessly in Wolffe's grasp.

"Close enough," Wolffe sighs.

Wolffe carries Cara towards the edge of the stairway leading up to the Jedi Temple, where his general and men are waiting for him. He grips her tightly in his arms, afraid that at any moment someone is going to rip her out of his arms and he'll never see her again. It's not an entirely irrational fear. The Jedi take children away from their parents all of the time. What makes his daughter so different from those children? What if he leaves her here and never gets her back?

"Calm yourself, Commander," Plo says when he senses Wolffe's trepidation through the Force. "There are no enemies within these walls, only the enemies we bring in from within ourselves."

Wolffe heeds his general's words of wisdom and steadies himself. He stares up at the daunting, stone stairway, takes a deep breath, and releases it slowly. He's as ready as he will ever be, and he hasn't even gotten to the hard part yet. Nevertheless, he steps forward, and his men step forward with him in solidarity. A silent march up the Jedi Temple steps towards a new normal. A terrifying new normal, for both him and Cara, and this is only the beginning of it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @arc-trooper-8008 @knightprincess @kell-of-storms @skellymom @grindeeloo @totallyunidentified @ladylucksrogue @tesahuy1629 @tanaka @gjrain20-starwars @roboticsuccubus83 @totally-not-your-babe @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @asyas-daydreaming @vithe-potato @haybellewrites @unicorngirl17

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

#tbbb writes #commander wolffe x fem!reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x fem!reader #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #clone x fem!reader #clone x reader #clone x you #commander wolffe #tcw wolffe #wolffe #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #star wars #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fic #tcw fanfiction #tcw fanfic #tcw fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

[readyforthegarden]

Silver Springs - Part One

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Original Female Character

Synopsis: The year was 1976, the season was summer. The days were hot and the nights were hotter. Music was the best it had ever been, especially rock music. Sam Kiszka has been riding the high of being in one of the top bands on the scene, but when his bands tour is accompanied by another up-and-coming band, with a lead singer that gets on his very last nerve, will everything come crashing down or will they end up making music that changes the world?

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, misogyny typical of the 1970s, 18+ only, Minors DNI

WC: 2712

🎶 🎶 🎶

“What is it like, being on top?” Sam smirked at the question, dragging his hand across his forehead in the hot sun as sweat beaded against his tanned skin. He held back a laugh at the obvious innuendo, leaning against the warm brick of the building.

“It’s a crazy feeling,” Sam answered the interviewer, who was holding a microphone out to him with a slightly shaking hand. “I never thought in a million years our music would reach so many people. We’re just some kids from the suburbs of Michigan, so to be at this level is insane.”

“You’re turning into hometown heroes, really.” the interviewer replied, chuckling at his moniker. “Record sales are at an all time high, you’re at the top of the charts, do you have any advice for any kids back home in their garages, trying to be the next Greta Van Fleet?”

“Yeah, don’t try to be the next Greta Van Fleet.” Sam grinned. “Be yourselves, write what speaks to you, play what sounds good to you. As long as you’re yourself you’ll go far.” They wrapped up the interview and Sam parted from the young man, starting his journey back to his bus across the parking lot. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in the front pocket of his half buttoned shirt, slipping a lighter from his jeans pocket and lighting it.

“Hey, you’re Sam Kiszka, right?” Sam squinted in the sun, turning and seeing a young woman walking fast to catch up to his long stride.

“I am.” he replied. “If you want an autograph, I’m afraid I don’t have a pen. If you wanna shag, there’s a line forming over on the other side of the venue.”

“I don’t want either of those things, thank you though.” the girl scoffed lightly, slowing down now that she was beside him. “I’m actually a musician, a singer-songwriter, and I was wondering if you’d look over a few of my songs? I really dig the music you make, and it’d mean a lot.” Sam stopped with a sigh, turning to the girl. Her light, sandy brown hair was frizzed from the humidity, unkempt waves looking like she slept with her hair wet and the window open while tossing and turning. 

Her wide hazel eyes blinked up at him, and Sam glanced down, seeing her clutching a worn, tattered journal in her hands. She wore overalls with patches on the wide legged knees. They hung loosely on her and were faded, the t-shirt underneath short and snug to her body, making them clear signs of hand-me-downs or thrift finds.

“I guess,” Sam sighed, holding out his hand. The girl opened the book in her hands, flipping through the pages before handing it over to Sam. The page Sam looked down on was scribbled all over, words etched out, messy writing across the lines. A few spots were discolored, spots where maybe some water, possibly even tears had spilled over. His eyes scanned the lyrics, keeping a blank face as the young woman bit her lip nervously, ruffling her hair, a smattering of bracelets clattering along her wrist and forearm as she moved. 

Sam flipped through a few more pages before snapping the book shut, looking over to her. He thought carefully about what he wanted to say. The words she had written were good, and he couldn’t help the artistic jealousy that bubbled up in his chest that he never thought of stringing them together himself.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Brandy.” she responded. “Brandy Lawson.”

“Well, Brandy Lawson,” Sam held up the book in front of him. “I wouldn’t quit your day job. You’ve got some potential, but nothing big in here. No one wants to hear a woman whining about her broken heart.” he watched Brandy’s eyes dim, her cheeks turning pink as she rolled her shoulders back against the blow to her ego.

“I appreciate the honesty.” Brandy reached out, taking her book back from Sam. “Really, thank you.” Sam felt a small twist in his gut, guilt setting in at crushing the girls’ dreams. He ran a hand through his brown, shoulder length hair with a sigh.

“Listen, it’s nothing personal,” he shrugged. He wanted to continue but couldn’t find decent enough words to tell her he thought her words were shit.

“No, no it’s not.” Brandy shook her head, clutching the journal to her chest again, a new spark in her eyes. “Thank you for your opinion, Mr. Kiszka. Have a good show.” she began to move away and Sam reached out, placing a large hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want an autograph or something?” he offered, trying to take the edge off the conversation. Brandy turned, smiling at him with a shake of her head.

“No. But you’ll be wanting mine one day.” she replied, so self-assured Sam was taken aback by the confidence. “See you around, Kiszka.”

Sam watched her walk away across the venue parking lot, the heels of her boots thunking against the pavement. She propelled herself with enough force the wind blew her hair back around her as she went. Something in him felt an inkling of admiration and a pang of annoyance at her sudden conviction.

“Hey, you coming to sound check?” Sam looked to his left, seeing his brother Jake ushering flagging him down. He and the rest of the band were heading inside the venue now. Sam nodded, jogging over to him. “What kept you so long? The magazine guy left a while ago.”

“Just some fan, wanted me to give advice on their songwriting.” Sam replied, waving his hand in front of him like Brandy had been an annoying fly buzzing around his head for the few minutes they interacted.

“Were they any good?” Jake asked curiously. Sam huffed out a laugh, holding open the stage door as his brother shuffled in.

“Just some school-kid drivel.” Sam shrugged.

“Aw, you mean like what you used to write?” Josh, Sam’s eldest brother wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulder, using his knuckles to give him a playful noogie to the side of his head. 

“Knock it off,” Sam pushed Josh off of him gently. 

“We all have to start somewhere, Sammy.” Josh reminded him. 

“Well, she seems to think I’ll be asking for her autograph one day,” Sam rolled his eyes. “So she must think she’s ahead of the game.” He followed his brothers onto the stage, taking place at his microphone as a roadie handed him his guitar.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll even be opening for her.” Jake joked into his mic, making the other men laugh. That was the last they had spoken of it, and the last Sam thought of Brandy Lawson for a very long while.

Until she stormed back into his life, a new name, a new band, and fiery attitude. 

🎶 🎶 🎶

“Los Angeles are you ready for a night of love and rock and roll?!” the crowd in the Troubadour roared. “My name is Harlow, and with me are the Blue Jean Babies. And we’re here tonight to make sweet love to you through music and leave you wanting more.” a few wolf whistles echoed through the room as Harlow gripped her microphone stand, bringing her body towards it. The bell sleeves of her dress fell back towards her elbows and she shook her shaggy bangs out of her face, licking her lips before beginning to sing.

“It’s a little crowded tonight.” Jake groaned, worming his way through the crowd to the bar, nodding at a few people who recognized him.

“You were the one who wanted to come.” Sam laughed back, finally resting against the sticky bar as his brother ordered them beers.

“Yeah, well I heard this band is really something.” Jake turned, handing a tepid, sweating amber bottle to his younger brother. “They’ve been blowing up the charts, and the label is thinking of having them on tour with us.”

“You mean the tour we’re about to go on in a little less than a month?” Sam was wide-eyed. “Who dropped out?”

“I guess one of the openers, one of their wives just had a baby and she’s threatening divorce if he doesn’t stay home with them since he was gone most of the pregnancy.” Jake shrugged. “It’s bullshit, but if you love the woman you do what you have to.”

“Happy wife, happy life and all that, yeah?” Sam chuckled as he took a sip of his own beer. He could never imagine himself kowtowing to anyone like that. No one was going to keep him from being on the road and living out his dream. If he was going to be with someone, they had to understand that music was the most important thing to him.

“More like he’ll have to pay out the ass in spousal and child support.” Jake rolled his eyes. Sam laughed loudly before having a few dirty looks thrown his way for interrupting the show. He smiled sheepishly and put a finger to his lips, promising to keep quiet with a wink. He turned his attention to the stage, allowing himself to focus on the music. 

The woman singing was vaguely familiar, he’d probably seen her out and about in the LA scene. It was a small circle, no matter how many new faces moved to the city of Angels, so he was sure he’d met her at some party somewhere. Maybe they’d shared a joint or a bump. Maybe a beer. 

“She’s pretty good, huh?” Jake leaned over to Sam, yelling over the music. 

“Yeah, she’s all right.” Sam sniffed. He watched the singer on stage as she danced around, singing and banging a tambourine against the heel of her hand. Her hair flew around her wildly as she spun, and Sam couldn’t help to smirk at her free movements, they reminded him of his eldest brother in a way, and how he would move on stage during Jake’s guitar solos. “I think they’d fit in nicely as openers.”

“Yeah?” Jake quirked an eyebrow over at Sam, watching his eyes carefully. The singer was now leaning down, smiling as she interacted with concert-goers. She had a wrist laden with bangles and beaded bracelets, and Jake caught the small smirk on Sam’s face as he watched the singer slip a few off and put them over the hand of a fan who was reaching out before standing back up and continuing the show. When the band left the stage, Jake patted Sam on the shoulder, and they moved to go backstage.

As they approached the green room, they heard loud laughter, the clinking of bottles and energetic talking between bandmates, and Sam felt the energy inside him prick up. There was something so contagious about a post-show high, and he could tell Jake was feeling it too as they rounded the corner into the room. It took a few minutes of the chaos to settle down as they joined the party, and someone stopped to notice them.

“Woah,” a young man stopped when he saw Jake and Sam, his lips still glistening from the pull from the bottle of Jack Daniels he held in his hand. His mustache was barely grown in enough to collect any droplets and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he stared in awe. “You’re…you’re Jake and Sam Kiskza.”

“Yeah, we are.” Jake chuckled, reaching a hand out. The young man switched the booze to his other hand and shook Jake’s outstretched hand, before shaking Sam’s as well. “We came out to see the show, you guys are good.”

“No shit!” the man grinned. “I’m Billy, I’m the guitarist. It’s an honor to meet you guys, I’ve looked up to your guitar playing since I heard your first record.”

“Appreciate that, man.” Jake grinned. “Are the rest of your bandmates here?”

“Yeah!” Billy turned, putting his hand on another man’s shoulder and getting his attention, whispering to him before gathering a few others around. “Where’s Harlow?”

“I’m right here.” they turned around again, and parted, making room for the leading lady of the night to join. It took him a few moments, but up close, all it took was a few moments, and the glimmer of gold in those hazel eyes for him to fully recognize her. His memory pulled up the scene in a parking lot where he’d essentially told her she was a talentless hack. “Hello boys.”

“Hi, I’m Jake,” Jake reached out his hand to her with a smile. She took it gently, squeezing his fingertips and holding his hand in hers for a few moments, telling him how nice it was to meet him before letting go. She turned to Sam, a smirk tugging at the corner of her smile. 

“And, you are?” Sam felt his cheeks prickle with heat flushed with embarrassment that she would pretend she had no clue who he was in front of everyone, in front of his own brother. All the while her eyes glimmered with recognition. He swallowed down his pride and put on a smile, taking her hand and instead of letting her feel like she had control like she did with Jake’s, as she squeezed his fingertips he brought the back of her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to it as he kept eye contact, smiling as he lowered her hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly and he felt his chest swell at her reaction.

“Samuel.” he replied. “But you can call me Sam.” he tossed in a wink for good effort, her cheeks turning pink from it.

“Well, to what do we owe the honor of a visit from you both?” Harlow tore her eyes from Sam, glancing back to Jake. 

“We just wanted to come check out the potential new openers for our next tour.” Jake grinned. It took a moment for what he said to sink in, and the band began jumping around excited.

“What, for real?!” Billy exclaimed, and Jake nodded. 

“We don’t know for sure, but they told us you guys were in the running, and we thought it’d be a good idea to check you guys out when we saw you were playing tonight.” Sam offered. 

“It was a really good show,” Jake chimed in, smiling. “Reminded me a bit of us when we were first getting crowd attention, feeding off of it. I’m definitely putting my name behind you guys for our openers.”

“And what about you, Sam?” Harlow’s gaze was back to him, the question leaving her lips and cutting through to him sharply. “Did you like the show?”

“It was very entertaining.” Sam replied coolly to her challenge. “You guys are up on my list, for sure.” Harlow kept her eyes on him as the rest of the Blue Jean Babies celebrated behind her. After a few moments more, they were called to their bus to start the next leg of their journey to the next city, and had to begin packing up. 

“It was great to meet you all, hopefully we’ll see you soon.” Jake told them all as he and Sam headed for the door.

“Hopefully very soon.” Harlow agreed, shooting him a charming smile. “Have a good night Jake. You too, Sam.”

“Goodnight, Harlow.” Sam replied, meeting her eyes one more time before wishing everyone else a goodnight too. 

“I really liked them.” Jake turned to Sam as they walked out of the building. Most of the concert-goers had left, only a few stragglers smoking or drinking at their cars. “They seem really cool and they genuinely are excited about music.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” Jake smirked at Sam’s blaise response. 

“You seemed to have a connection with that Harlow chick.” Jake nudged his little brother in the ribs with his own elbow. “Are we going to have to worry about some hanky-panky if we bring them on tour?”

“Not at all,” Sam rolled his eyes. “If anything, she has an attitude that’s annoying to me.”

“Well, if they come on tour with us, maybe it’ll humble her a little bit.” Jake shrugged, getting into his car. Sam climbed into the passenger seat, thinking of all the ways he could humble Brandy “Harlow” Lawson.

Taglist: @joshsindigostreak @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @kkdarling @demonrat444 @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal @allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @starcatcherkiszka @indigofallingsky

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka fanfiction #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka #josh kiskza #danny wagner #sam kiskza x oc #sam kiskza #silver springs fic

[limehaspassed]

Trepidation

(Thomas Hewitt x GN Reader)

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭��▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬

In which you come across the Hewitt family who decide to take you in.

Chapter One

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Prologue

Texas heat bore down on you as you walked across the parking lot of a worn down gas station. The painting along the outside walls had peeled off so much to the point you could barely tell it was painted in the first place. Dirt had accumulated along the bottom of the walls, staining the wood and weakening the stability of the structure. As you moved closer, you noticed small plants growing from up underneath the wood, or what used to be plants. With the drought season at its highest, living plants were becoming harder to find.

The door opened with the jingle of a bell, alerting the elderly woman behind the counter of your appearance. She stared over at you as you walked in, her eyes scanning you up and down. For a moment, there was a twinge of distaste present in her expression before she replaced it with one more friendly. You could only pretend you hadn’t seen the fleeting emotion, more thankful that you had finally found someone else in this deserted town.

“You’ve seen a ghost, dear?” The woman asked, her southern accent thick against her tongue.

You slowly made your way up to the counter, your head heavy and body going numb. “I need … help.” You whispered, your voice breaking, straining to escape your throat. Leaning against the counter, you used it as support, the corners of your vision going black. “Please, help me. I-..” Your mouth hung slack, your mind going blank. You couldn’t think nor could you move, it was as if time had frozen for a moment.

Within the next minute, you found yourself on the ground, your eyes heavy and fading quickly. Your brain went fuzzy and your entire body buzzed with a distant ache.

“Am I dying?”

When you awoke, you found yourself in an unfamiliar setting, your vision slightly blurry and head pounding. You were sitting on an itchy couch, surrounded by tables and shelves full of random objects here and there. As your vision cleared, you noticed the thick layer of dust that coated everything, as if the place hadn’t been cleaned in years.

“Where am I?” You whispered under your breath, throat screaming in protest.

“My you’re awake.” You started at the sudden voice, jumping in your seat. This only caused your head to weigh down on you more, swimming in the motions of a whirlpool. “Calm yourself, dear child, I’m not here to harm you. Lay back and relax. That’s a bad heat stroke you had there, you’re in luck I was there. Thought you wouldn’t make it, dear.” The woman spoke, stepping into your line of vision.

It was the lady from the gas station. She moved closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently pushing back against the couch. Your body gave way, holding no energy to retaliate, and you stayed in the position she left you in. Soon after, she removed her hand.

“Now you rest. When you wake, I want you to meet my boy, Thomas. Oh, how sweet the two of you would be, deary.” That was the last thing you heard before drifting off once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Part 1/11

#gender nuetral reader #slashers #multiple part series #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #reader insert #trepidation

[ddarker-dreams]

I would kill for that document of Scara lore…I have my own but I don’t think it’s all that good 😭

I GOT YOU !! it's still in a rather bare bones stage, i plan on expanding it more once i've finished writing the story i'm currently working on. ideally, i'll happen upon a transcript of all his lines or i'll. put that together myself. in the meantime, here's what i've amassed. i'm mostly looking for motifs that will help me in my writing so that i can stay true to his character. i need to make a chrollo version of this sometime ...

for anyone who doesn't want to sludge through lore, here are some interesting snippets i've picked up on:

scaramouche has been compared to a blank sheet of paper twice — once in the artifact description for husk of opulent dreams, and the second time during the archon quest III part V. something i'm really curious about is if there was any wordplay, since phonetically, god and paper sound kinda similar in japanese i Believe?? the kanji spelling is different but still. i thought it was interesting.

the engulfing lightning description (ei's signature weapon) mentions 'The naginata was a lethal weapon by which scattered dross might be cut away / Not a single speck of dross could be permitted in an eternal paradise' and the husk of opulent dreams, in describing scaramouche, says: 'but he was cast aside like worthless dross.'

in the husk of opulent dreams description, we get the line 'And all tales were incinerated in karmic flames till nothing remained.' which i never understood until the 'divine' will cutscene came out. i'm speculating that this refers to scara burning down the child's house after discovering him dead.

for what i still don't understand from these descriptions:

"But it was but a mere prop for lies and deception." "Now, you will finally obtain what belongs to you," "And this false construct of a body can at last aspire to power over this world."

"Yet, this is all but a fleeting dream of glory." "And it will all one day drift away amidst the sighs of a suffering earth…" Was it a "him" from the past who said this? Or "him" from the future? The vagrant cared not, for when he awakened, It was not he, but that ethereal future that dissipated.

my assumption at the moment is the wanderer will say something like this or have a similar sentiment before/after he obtains his anemo vision in the upcoming story. since we know leylines contain memories of the past, present, and future, i think it's possible.

also this:

As the boat gradually approached the shore, a lady in foreign garb could be seen standing by the shoreline, (signora) And she threw a small crystal sphere at the youth (scara) from afar. Catching it with ease, he lifted it up to the dying, bloodied sun.

WTF IS THE SMALL CRYSTAL SPHERE ?? is it a delusion?? crystal marrow ?? it's probably not a big deal but i still am really curious. anyhow. that's enough mental illness on display for today. i'll stop rambling like a madman about a fictional character... for now.

#yes i will transcript all of scaramouche's lines if that's what it comes down to #having them all in one place would be so useful #scaramouche brainrot #answered #Anonymous

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Hiiiii how have you been doing 🥰🥰

Actually this is my very first ask on this site so 😭😭 just wanna say i adore your Studious series A LOT from the pining to the pace you set to the misunderstanding EVERYTHING

May I ask do u have any plan to post the next parts 😭😭😭 just wandering if u have any new update or a sneak peek maybe 🫣🫣🫣 dont pressure urself pls no matter what u put out i would appreciate it like so much

Pls stay healthyyyyyyy ilu

I am so honored to be the recipient of your first ask! And I am BEYOND flattered by your compliments! 🥰

The next part should be out this week! My laptop was out for repairs basically since I posted the last part, so my writing process has been slowed. I've literally been writing with pen and paper.

(That's actually been very conducive to writing the Aemond diary pieces tbh)

But now, my laptop is returned and fully functional again! So I just have to type up everything in my journal and add some of the in-between bits and viola!

And because you were so sweet, you may, of course, have a sneak peek:

Studious III Sneak Peak

The 16th day in the third moon of the year.

The betrothal has been settled. Finally.

I doubt I could have endured another miserable day of sitting in Grandsire’s study, listening to him read each of the letters sent by lords from throughout the realm, desperate to pawn their daughters off to a Prince of the Realm. Though I suppose I should be grateful he had already whittled the list down to only the two-score ladies he found the most politically advantageous.

Aegon told me that more than a hundred letters arrived. So, it could have been much worse.

Every letter was nearly the same, listing the family’s wealth and assets along with their daughters ‘accomplishments.’ In truth, calling them such seems far too generous. What does a scrap of embroidery or a reasonably well-played song truly accomplish, other than a few fleeting moments of mediocre beauty? It always fades.

Besides, every highborn lady is trained in the same skills, so they are hardly exceptional.

You frowned, looking up from the journal and at the dozens of examples of your own embroidery scattered throughout the room – including on the blanket you laid under. True, they were not always perfect, but you were proud of each and every one of them.

Then there was your little lyre, sitting by the sun. You hadn’t had the chance to play since coming to the capital, and you realized in that moment that you truly missed it. Once, it had been second nature to pick it up immediately upon waking and pluck nonsensically at the strings as your maids readied you for the day.

Those songs – if they could be called songs at all –were always your favourites. Wholly unique creations of your mind, never transposed, never to be played the same again. For a moment, you almost stood and retrieved the lyre, just to see what your hands would create in this moment.

But that would require setting down Aemond’s diary.

You looked back down at his words and frowned again. It took no small amount of time and effort to develop your skills. In fact, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished. No one was born knowing how to embroider or play music.

Neither was anyone born knowing how to wield a sword or ride a dragon.

Your frown faded at that thought, as you imagined how Aemond would look if you said that to him. The memory of him in the library when you snapped back at him, looking like a befuddled fish, returned to you. It was so enticing that you called for one of your maids to bring your diary, a pen, and ink.

Turning to the first blank page, you noted the date of Aemond’s offending entry and wrote out exactly how you would rebuff him if he had said such a thing to you.

Perhaps, when you were done reading, you would tell him. That is, if you wanted to talk to him at all.

#studious #aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic

[blondie20000]

Love Never Dies - Wanda Maximoff x Stephen Strange

"Love never dies. Love will continue. Love keeps on beating when you're gone. Love never dies once it is in you. Life may be fleeting; love lives on! Life may be fleeting! Love lives on..."

Andrew Lloyd Webber, Love Never Dies.

.............

Stephen Strange." She greets him.

"Wanda? You're alive?"

Strange did his best to keep his voice calm and professional. His face is blank not wanting to express his shock.

Wanda stood across the room from him. Alive and well. The darkness in her is gone. Strange can see her fingers have returned to normal and color has returned to her cheeks. However in her eyes Strange can see the grief, the pain and the loss, feelings Strange knew all too well.

A flash of guilt goes across her face as she looks down. She takes a deep breath and looks up at him.

"I am." She replies.

It goes silent. They stare at each other. Last time they saw each other was Mount Wundagore, as enemies fighting each other. Strange's mission is to save the girl while Wanda planned to do the opposite. She was going to sacrifice the child in order to bring her own children back. Her family. Eventually her eyes opened and she realized what she has done.

What she became.

Monster!

That word has rang in her ears since Mount Wundagore. The horror on her sons' faces vivid in her mind. An image that will haunt her for the rest of her life. Wanda may have made the right choice by destroying the Darkhold but the bodies, all those lives she killed their blood was on her hands and she couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard she scrubbed.

She is a murderer. Death follows her, leaving bodies in its wake. All her loved ones have suffered because of her and now she had no one.

She is alone.

Wanda closes her eyes. She willed herself to stay calm and to not break down. For ages she focused on only one emotion. Anger. However now Wanda can feel all her emotions raging inside her, battling it out in her head. It hurt so much Wanda wanted to scream but she didn't, she wouldn't she needed to suck it up, appear strong. Keep the mask firmly in place.

Do not show weakness. She told herself.

"Wanda?" Strange's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He gives her a cautious look. "Why are you here?"

Wanda rubs her arm. Her eyes scan the room.

"How's the child?" She asks.

"She's fine."

"Good." Wanda nods. "That's good."

Strange sensed there is something else the Scarlet Witch wished to tell him but he decided to not push her. He will let her to talk when she is ready to talk.

Wanda walks and runs her fingers along the books on the shelf. She has back to him. She then sighs.

"How do you do it?"

Strange frowns.

"Do what?" He asks.

"Go on with life knowing you can't be with the one you love."

That question knocked him off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean." She turns her head towards him. "You can't be with her. Every universe your relationship with her is doomed to fail."

Wanda didn't need to say her name for Strange to know who she is talking about. Strange sighs heavily.

"If that's what the universe wants, if that's how my life is suppose to go." He shrugs. "I can't fight it."

"But it is not fair." She shakes her head. "The universe is cruel."

"Life is cruel." He agrees with her.

"Life is a bitch." She glares at the ceiling. "What happened to balance? Free will? It is all a lie. No matter what I do the love of my life and my children are gone." She swallows. "I can't move on. I can't forget about them. Life is not worth living without them."

She looks down. Her fingers curl up into a fist. Her lips tremble.

So much for hiding her weakness.

Strange calmly steps forward. He goes to reach out to comfort her but decides against it. He takes a deep breath and folds his arms.

"Is that why you are here Wanda? You come to seek my advice?"

She lifts her head. Her face screws up with confusion.

"It does not bother you? Not being with her?"

"It does." Strange nods. "But like I said we are not meant to be and I have to accept the universe has other plans for me."

"Bullshit." She turns sharply towards him. "You do not believe that."

"I don't have a choice in the matter." Strange raises his hands. "We can complain, argue it will not change a thing. That is something you have to accept it Wanda."

"I do accept it." She answers. "I know they are not coming back but at least I feel, I mourn on what I could of had. You on the other hand show nothing. You claim you are okay with it but deep down you are not okay...not really." She eyes him up and down. "You are in denial. You refuse to acknowledge your true feelings on the matter." His lips press into a thin line. "I have messed up, I have regret the pain I have caused but I do not regret the mission. At least I gave a damm, I fought back, I tried to bring them back."

"And turned to the dark side because of it."

"A mother would go to extreme lengths to save her children." Wanda nods. "What have you done?" Her lips curl in disgust. "You haven't even tried to make a difference."

"I didn't lose my humanity." Strange glares at her. "As you know when you do fight you lose yourself in the process. It is not healthy."

"And sitting back and doing nothing is healthy? Continuing to live your life alone is healthy? Thought life was about taking risks. I took a risk and blew it but at least I tried and I wasn't a coward."

"I am not..."

Wanda places her finger on his lips.

"Don't lie to me." She whispers.

He sighs.

"What do you want from me?"

"To not be a hypocrite. Be truthful to yourself. Be human."

He scoffs at that.

She wasn't laughing

"You say you have humanity? Prove it? Show me how you really feel."

Strange hesitates. Wanda cups his cheek.

"I don't want to be alone. I admit to that. Do you want to be alone? You accept your fate?"

He again hesitates. Wanda looks up at him. Her eyes are pleading for him to be honest, to open up and admit he is not happy either show they are on the same page. If Strange did open up maybe Wanda would to. Confine in someone, let it all out. Wanda did need to let it out she couldn't hold it in much longer. If she felt like that Strange must feel it too. The dam threatening to break.

It is one of the reasons she decided to go to him. They may have been enemies once upon a time but Wanda couldn't deny there is a connection between them, they are same. The universe has screwed them both over, forbid them to be with the ones they love, grow in power but lose everything else in the process. They got to carry that loss with them for the rest of their life.

Wanda can see the tornado of emotions swirling behind his eyes. His jaw tightens and he grits his teeth. Wanda slowly nods. She ensures him that it is okay. She will not judge him, all she wants is for him to tell the truth.

"It's not hard." She tells him.

He grabs her hand where it still rested on his cheek. He increases his grip on her hand but she doesn't pull away.

"I'm not doing anything." She said sensing his suspicion. "I'm not forcing it out of you. I am giving you the choice to be honest with yourself."

"Wanda." He said his voice hoarse. He is struggling. Her presence caused those feelings he buries so deep to rise. The grief of his former life, the pain from the accident, the disgust he feels about his hands, the loss of Christine, and the heartbreak when he had to make the choice to let her go in order to keep her safe.

Anger.

Angry at the universe, the timeline, the path that was forced upon him that he had no choice but to follow, become the all powerful sorcerer and hero the people needed him to be, put everyone's needs above his own. His needs didn't matter anymore. His opinion didn't matter anymore.

He is a pawn and nothing more.

It is not fair.

Not fucking fair.

Strange loosens his grip on her hand. He drops his hand and runs it along his face.

"You're right I don't accept it. I hate it. I hate how this all works. I don't even know what I have done to deserve it." He barks out a laugh. "I done so much good in this world but this is what I get in return? I get nothing but more pain and suffering."

He again laughs. The laughter soon fades and his eyes start to turn watery.

"I miss her." He said his voice cracking. "Christine." Saying her name out loud caused a sob to rise in his throat. "Every universe...Every fucking universe we fail, if we are not meant to be then why do I fall in love with her? Why does every version of me fall for her?"

The words came tumbling out. Strange couldn't stop. He has bottled it up for far too long.

"Why?" He asks out loud. "I..."

I don't want to be alone.

He didn't voice it out loud. However, judging from Wanda's face he had a feeling she has read his mind.

Damm it.

He mentally curses her for causing him to break down like this. He didn't want to appear vulnerable or weak.

A look of relief passes across her face. Her reaction irritates him. This is all her fault. He was fine until she came along.

Fine? His inner voice questioned him. We know that's not true.

Strange sighs.

"Happy now." He places his hands on his hips. "You got what you wanted? Hmm?"

Wanda shakes her head.

"I didn't mean to inflict pain on you Stephen." She sighs. "I just wanted you to understand."

"I understand perfectly."

She steps forward. She tilts her head at him.

"I miss Vision." She said. "My relationship was doomed to fail from the start and I question myself why make me go through this? I realize now if I never met Vision I would have never known what true love would feel like. He brought me happiness. He made me feel human." Her intense gaze shifts on to him. Strange found himself going silent. It felt like she is looking right into his soul. "Everything he gave me, everything I shared with him I can give to someone else." Wanda slowly nods. "That way he will always be with me."

"You could do the same, spread your love, cherish it with others." She continues with a small smile. "It wouldn't be betrayal if we are doing it for them. Forever in our memory."

She places her hand on his chest. Her touch causes him to shiver. He knows he should pull away but as each second passed he found himself being drawn to her. Her words had a affect on him, made him see everything from a new perspective.

He has been alone for so long the need for company suddenly consumed him.

Strange tilts her chin back. He gazes into her eyes and imagines those are Christine's eyes looking back at him. That sweet memory is there within his reach.

While he saw Christine, Wanda saw Vision.

The love of their lives reflects back at them.

Love never dies. It lives on, through others.

Strange smiles and draws Wanda in for a kiss. Wanda kisses him, slow and tender. It has been such a while since she has kissed someone. It has been a while for Strange as well.

They take their time, feeling their lips brush against each other, tasting each other. Wanda moans when he sticks his tongue down her. The gentleness abruptly turning rough and eager. Wanda takes him in and wraps her arms around him. She pulls him in and allows herself to fall into this moment. This long blissful silence.

Eventually Strange pulls away and goes to her remove her dress. As he is about to do that, his hands start to shake. Strange curses. The familiar feelings of disgust and shame rise in him. His hands, his once perfect hands now couldn't even remove this dress.

Wanda gently takes his hand. She removes his glove and examines his scars. Even though Strange has accepted his injury he still couldn't bear to look at them. They reminded him of his old life.

Wanda rubs her thumb along his scars. She then brings his hand to her lips. She kisses his palm and rests it on her cheek. Wanda sighs as she felt the warmth from his hand. She leans into his touch, memories of moments similar to this come flooding back.

Vision cups her cheeks and smiles fondly at her.

"Have I ever told you I love you?" He asks.

Wanda smiles back at him.

"Many times."

"Really? To me it doesn't seem enough." He shakes his head. "I must tell you more often."

"Vis you tell me every day."

"I love you." He repeats with a laugh. "I will never stop loving you."

Wanda leans into his touch. Her smile widens.

"I love you too."

Wanda felt the tears forming in her eyes. This is what she hoped. She hoped she would still feel his presence. She does, she can feel him everywhere.

"I will be with you always." His voice echoes in her mind. "Share our love to those who need it, make them feel what we felt, make them happy."

Wanda nods. That's exactly what she is going to do. She is doing this for Vision but also for Strange. She gazes into Strange's eyes. He looks so vulnerable now. She did that, she made him like this.

He is opening himself up to me.

Wanda knows her and Strange are the same, she can feel their connection getting stronger. She will be there when the dam breaks, when he fully accepts what he has lost. When he does, she can let go as well. Wanda hopes he will do the same for her when she falls apart.

"Wan..."

"Shh." She silences him.

She reaches out and removes his other glove. Then her eyes glow red. Seconds later their clothes vanish from their bodies.

Strange is startled at first but Wanda points across the room where their clothes are, folded up on the chair.

"I didn't plan on making a mess." She tells him.

Strange on the other hand had other ideas.

He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around him as he carries her over to the table. He flicks his wrist and all the items slide off the table and crash on the ground.

Wanda looks at him. Strange shakes his head.

"Wong can't know about this."

"My lips are sealed." She assures him.

Strange allows himself to relax and he slowly lies Wanda down on the table.

Strange steps back and looks her up and down. She is attractive. Strange had to admit.

But can I do this?

He hesitates. A wave of unease goes over him. This is completely out of his comfort zone.

"Face your fears." A familiar voice whispers in his ear.

When Strange looks down again he didn't see Wanda.

He saw Christine.

A sharp intake of breath, Strange felt his world spinning. He mumbles her name. Pain goes across his face.

Christine smiles softly at him.

"Face your fears." She repeats.

Strange closes his eyes. He can still remember their conversation. In the other universe, the other Christine he admitted to her how he truly felt. He is scared to care for someone, scared to allow someone to care for him. She touched his cheek and told him those three words.

"Face your fears."

He looks down at her again.

Christine nods, giving him her permission, assuring him that it is okay to do this.

He did not want to be alone.

Not anymore.

He blinks.

Wanda is looking at him.

Wanda is here for him.

Despite what happened between them, Strange wants to be there for her as well.

It is time to face his fears.

Allow himself to feel again.

Be human.

Stephen leans down and brushes his lips against her stomach. He kisses her. Wanda sighs as he continues to kiss her. He kisses every part of her, allowing himself to enjoy this moment with her.

His hands grasp her breasts. He fondles them, squeezes them, teases them. Wanda gasps when he bites down on her nipples. He tugs at her nipples, sucks them. It wasn't long before his lips returned to hers again.

He claims her mouth with his own. She bites his lip, causing him to groan. Blood forms on his lip, but it didn't bother him. Wanda licks the blood and grins. She takes him in her hands and stares right into his eyes.

"Fuck me!" She growls.

He nods. His eyes go dark with lust.

"As you wish."

Stephen positions himself between her thighs. His eyes remained locked on hers as he slowly goes in. Wanda gasps as she felt him go inside her. He smirks at her reaction.

Then he starts to thrust her.

Stephen went in hard and fast. He thrusts her with all his strength knowing so well she will be able to handle it. She is the Scarlet Witch, a fighter, a survivor, nothing can stop her.

She is powerful.

Stephen respects her for it.

Wanda gives him a wicked grin, delighted by this sudden turn of events, relieved that they are going all out here. Wanda did not want to take precautions, she did not want to be careful, she wants to let it all out, she wants to be quick, she wants to keep going until they are both breathless. The thought of him panting like an animal, growling for her, wanting her, all it made Wanda feel turned on.

"Yes!" She yells. She throws her head back and enjoys every grunt, every moan, every growl that escapes his throat.

Vision was an animal in bed.

She loves hearing her animals roar.

She pushes herself into Stephen, she curses out loud, and her eyes blaze red. Their hands connect. Sparks of magic bounce of each other. Chaos magic and sorcery combining together as one. His hands start to shake again, but Wanda grasps his hand tight, grounding him. She assures him she is here and she will not let go.

Stephen responds with another hard, mighty thrust. A look of understanding passes between them.

"Fuck them!" Wanda said. "Fuck the universe! Fuck fate!"

He pulls her forward. His hot breath on her face causes a chill to go down her spine. His lips tug upwards. His eyes shine bright.

"Fuck it all." He grins.

Their loved ones couldn't be with them physically but they can be with them in spirit. Their love for them will live forever in their memories and their hearts.

The universe could not take that away from them.

Stephen feels the fire forming at the bottom of his belly. His eyes go wide as the orgasm takes over. Wanda grips his hand, daring him not hold back. She wants to hear that roar, that release.

"Go on." She encourages him.

He does.

He releases it. All of it. He screams to the top of his lungs. His cum spills all over the table. Stephen takes a deep shaky breath, his body is shaking. He felt something else as well, he felt full, content. A weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He also felt proud of himself. He took Christine's advice and faced his fear.

He is not afraid anymore.

Wanda scoops the cum up with her finger and sucks on it. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. Stephen can already feel himself going hard for her again.

Damm this witch.

Reading his mind, Wanda's hand goes on his cock. Her fingers brush his hardened length.

She laughs.

"So easy to tease." She shakes her head. "Oh sweetheart." She guides him inside her again. She smirks.

Wanda is happy to ride it out again.

They repeat the pattern. Fuck each other until no one could form a coherent sentence. Wanda is panting now, sweat is pouring down her. He licks up her sweat, coated skin. His hot tongue against her cool, wet skin made her cry out. It causes a jolt of electricity to go through her. That feeling goes all the way down to her knees.

Her thighs shake, her knees threaten to buckle. Stephen notices this and chuckles.

"Falling apart already darling?"

She grits her teeth. Her nails dig into his skin. The need to let go consumed her. Her eyes widen, her lips tremble. She silently communicates to him that she needs him. She wants to be reassured that he will return the favor.

Stephen lifts her chin and nods at her.

He will be there when she let's go.

He will catch her when she falls.

Wanda makes the decision to trust him.

She then let's go.

She screams.

The dam explodes.

The emotions all come flooding out

She keeps going until there is nothing left.

Few moments later, Wanda cries.

She sobs loudly, tears stream down her cheeks. Stephen carefully lifts her up and carries her over to the couch. He sits down with her head on his lap. He strokes her hair and remains silent.

Eventually Wanda stops crying. She takes a deep breath and wipes the tears away. A box of tissues form in Stephen's hands.

"Here."

He places the box next to her.

"Thank you." She replies.

She grabs a bunch of tissues and wipes her eyes. She blows her nose causing the sorcerer to laugh.

"Charming." He said.

She tosses the tissues into the trash and sighs loudly.

"That felt so good." Wanda said.

He nods.

"I agree with that."

Wanda sits up and waves her hand.

The clothes return to their bodies.

"Uh, thanks." He said, sounding awkward.

She responds with a shrug.

"You must be hungry?" He said. Her stomach rumbles. He laughs at that. "I take that as a yes then."

He stands up.

"What about the mess?" She asks.

He rolls his eyes and waves his hand.

The table becomes clean, and the items return to their original positions.

"No problem." He grins. Then his face turns serious. "But Wanda, I am serious when I said Wong can't know about this."

"I hope our paths do not cross." She grimaces. "He will not be pleased to see me."

Stephen couldn't argue with her on that. She is right. Wong wouldn't be happy to see her.

"So food?" Stephen said, changing the subject.

"Want some help?"

"Sure." He points at her hands. "Wash your hands first."

She rolls her eyes. He shakes his head. "I mean it, no food until your hands are clean."

"Old habits never die, huh?" She said. "Dr Strange?"

She is referring to his former job. The days when he would scrub his hands for surgery.

Stephen folds his arms.

"It is basic hygiene, Wanda."

"I know." She raises her hands and smiles. "I know."

After washing her hands, Wanda joins Stephen in the kitchen. Stephen watches her as she chops up the vegetables. It fascinated him seeing the Scarlet Witch doing something so mundane.

Sometimes Stephen forgot what it is like to have a normal life. The concept of a normal daily life seemed so foreign to him now.

Yet here he is with Wanda making dinner. This felt like a dream. It didn't seem real.

It is real.

What they did, the sex, that was real as well. All this is real.

He then saw Christine's smiling face. She bumps her hip against his as she goes around the kitchen.

He turns round and goes to follow her.

Wanda looks over her shoulder. She gives him a small smile.

"It's okay." She said. "I see Vision all the time. I am seeing him now as we speak."

She read his mind.

Stephen shakes his head.

"Wanda, we need to set some boundaries."

"Hmm?"

"The mind reading needs to stop. It is an invasion of my privacy."

She puts down the knife.

"I'm sorry." She said. "It just happens. I can't exactly switch it on and off. You are an open book to me."

"We'll work on it." He assures her. "We'll figure it out okay?"

She nods.

"Okay." She said quietly.

Stephen hesitates.

"Are we doing the right thing?" He asks.

"You know the answer to that question Stephen."

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"It feels wrong but also feels right?"

"Yes." She raises an eyebrow. "You want to stop this?"

"No."

He is sure on that. He didn't want this to stop.

Stephen rests his hand on hers. Wanda locks her fingers with his.

After several beats of silence, Stephen said.

"We got this?"

Wanda squeezes his hand. She smiles at him.

"We got this." She answers.

We got this.

The End

#fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #smut #angst #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff #stephen strange #wanda x strange #scarletstrange #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange multiverse of madness

[zemkzone]

That Rare Arctic Thunderstorm: Ch13 (on AO3)

FULL FIC LINK HERE

··· Waverider, Temporal Zone, T minus 66 minutes until timeline settles ··· The lights came back on in the Waverider’s secondary lab, and Sara nearly jumped out of her skin. Martin stood in front of her, completely solid again. Jax was too, flailing in Mick’s arms. “I’m okay, big guy, I’m back again!” the younger half of Firestorm yelped. “What just happened?” Sara demanded, making sure everyone in the room was okay. “Where did you go?” Amaya helped Jax steady himself. “I’m not sure.” Jax looked past Sara to Martin. “But we really need to get back home.” “We’ve left Ronnie alone too long,” the professor agreed. “He might become unstable.” “The last time you merged with him was… when?” Nate blinked hard. “I met Ronnie when we all went back… for some reason. It’s like there’s a big blank spot in my head. There’s three parts to Firestorm in this timeline now. But I can’t remember why only two of you—” “Enough chatting,” Mick barked, glaring around the room. “Gideon, get us back to Central City—without the month-skipping this time.” “Time jumps are unadvisable until the new timeline crystalizes,” the AI apologized. “What’s the sudden rush, Mick?” Ray stared incredulously. “Doesn’t matter.” Mick glared at him. “As long as we get back before February 2017.” “Okay, what am I missing now?” Sara didn’t think stabilizing Ronnie was the only reason Jax and Martin were anxious to go home. Why did Mick want to go back too, though? And why did she have the urge to visit Keystone City? “We’ve got one hour left, Rip.” Sara turned to their former captain. “We can’t go anywhere from here until the timeline settles anyway. If you know what we’re missing, tell us.” “I cannot.” Rip sank down into a chair. “My memories are as incomplete as yours now.” Something about those words stirred a memory in Sara’s mind—a sterile room, white light, a tall, narrow cylinder. No, a containment chamber. “I’m n-not s-supposed to touch it! Doctor Thawne s-says it’s t-too d-d-dangerous for m-me.” That voice sounded familiar. She’d heard it so recently, but her mind was full of blanks. She wished she had her phone to call— Nothing. The memories remained out of reach. Gideon’s shifting headlines still showed Barry and Len in their signature suits. For one fleeting moment, Sara thought she saw a photo of Iron Heights and glimpsed the deep green of the Arrow suit. This was ridiculous. They’d fought Civil War zombies, prevented an American president from making the Cold War even worse, stopped the reshaping of the whole country, even. Through time itself, they’d chased down a would-be dictator then fought an evil speedster and his coterie of self-interested villains. After all that, what couldn’t they handle?

READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTER HERE

#coldflash #coldflash fanfiction #barry allen #leonard snart #captain cold #the flash #cw the flash #legends of tomorrow #they're idiots your honor #wip update #the legends are just getting jerked around by whatever Barry and Len do #the author regrets nothing #sara is so done #sara lance #white canary

[writermask-0807]

A SIMPLE COMFORT - PROFESSOR SNAPE X PLATONIC STUDENT READER

A/n: this has been my mind for a long time, and now thats its finally written, me can't wait to show you guys this! Now, I may have gone wrong wrong the title and other things too but this is my first time doing something like this in Tumblr, so please don't mind, and if you could, please leave me a few tips. And this may be a somewhat long (who am I kidding this long AF), but i hope it is wholesome.

Warnings: Mentions of self harm (if u blink it'll go away), crying, and overall maybe some triggering and sensitive stuff?

" Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."

- Albus Dumbledore

SOMETIMES you felt as if the entire world was against you. Your uncaring parents, the entire school, even your friends, if they could even be called that.

You labeled these times as the dark days. Times when you would be brimming with feelings, complicated emotions pulsing through your veins that left you baffled; emotions that left you feeling everything and nothing at the same time. It was hard to explain.

Today was one of the dark days - perhaps even worse than the other episodes.

You sat cramped in some forgotten corner of the large castle, tucked away from sight as you let the stoic, fierce facade you had built around yourself crumble away and you huddled in the suddenly heavy, damp tension that latched onto the frigid atmosphere, as if smothering the air itself and choking you, just like how you were clinging onto a last shred of hope, a false, flickering thought that seemed to be so tempting to believe, even though you knew it was a lie, a fleeting sense of comfort that maybe you had read the letter wrong, or that your parents really hadn't meant what they had written, a warmth that you hoped would protect you from the cold that bit into you like a beast.

And you didn’t mean just the literal biting cold that cut into your skin like the prickle of a thousand sharp needles digging into your sallow flesh, or like the feeling of the razor blades you used to cut yourself with being buried beneath your skin.

You meant the cold of the pain you felt - the feeling of a bucket of icy water being poured onto you, numbing you and making you feel intense, agonizing, excruciating pain. You meant the cold of the announcement your parents had sent, the cold of their cruel, harsh words tearing at the seams of your flesh and heart, shattering them over and over, but threading the fabric of your flesh and piecing the fragments of your broken heart, only for them to be torn and broken apart once again.

For a moment, you were numb, devoid of any emotion as your cheeks were cracked and split by the memory of the unhealthy amount of tears you had shed, your breathing and heartbeat erratic, your small frame shaking like a leaf in the wind as you hugged your knees to your chest, shivers and shudders erupting along your skin and rattling you to the very core, your delicate face scarily blank and your e/c orbs glazed over with the salty droplets that had carved cool streams down your cheeks, before the whole impact of their words slammed into you once again, burning like a white-hot rod, searing with agonizing pain that made your heart ache and writhe again. Your blood ran cold, your heart pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break the bones, and you could hear the blood rushing to your head, blocking out all other sounds.

Disowned.

Where would you go, when you had no-one but your cruel parents that considered you a liability? Where would you go, when all of your friends were fake? Who would you turn to, when no-one was able to offer you the meager comfort and love you so desperately craved?

disownedDiSoWnEdDISOWNEDDISOWNEDUSELESSLIABILITY -

Your thoughts had become desperate, pushing against one another, overlapping, distorted voices that echoed in your mind as you struggled to get rid of the dark voice that screamed at the back of your head, that had spat out the bitter, bitter truth that burned on the tip of your tongue.

The air was suddenly forced out of your lungs, the damp atmosphere that was frigid with Winter's freezing breath snaking around your throat, strangling you with its invisible fingers. Hot, salty tears welled up within your hollow e/c orbs that had dimmed with the absence of the light that had always shone within them, leaving them blanketed with a layer of liquid glass, your vision spinning and bleary because of tears and exhaustion.

All of the willpower, all of that sheer hope that had ignited within your soul like a flame and had guided you through many dark days, in the most dire moment of need, vanished into thin air as though it never existed in the first place, swallowed by the darkness, just as how you were threatened to be consumed by the oblivion.

It suddenly felt like the weight of the world was planted upon your slumped shoulders that sagged with defeat as your lungs burned for breath, as if something invisible and heavy was pressed against your small, cowering frame as you shook with uncontrollable tremors, stifling you to the point where not even ragged, short pants escaped your mouth as desperate, greedy gulps for air. Your throat was tightly clamped shut, not a sob nor a scream available as you hyperventilated, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

You tried to breathe, but failed, and your lungs felt as if they had been doused in liquid fire, swimming and drowning in raw lava, and you vaguely wondered if you were going to die, alone and afraid, with no-one by your side.

" L/N? Are you here?" A strong, deep voice spoke from the darkness, and the tip of a wand flared with blinding light as it illuminated you in your little hide-away. In your disheveled state, you did not notice who it was, but the voice of the person was vaguely familiar as you wound knots in your scalp, grabbing fistful of your hair. 

You did not reply, you couldn't, and your answer was stuck in your throat, choking, CHOKING - 

You were vaguely aware that a strong, lean pair of arms much larger than your own had wrapped around your shoulder in a surprisingly strong grasp, pulling you closer towards the person in a swift, but gentle manner, so as not to harm you further. You could tell that the person had knelt beside you, because you hadn't felt yourself being lifted from the hard, stone floor above the chaos that wreaked havoc within your head.

You still couldn't breathe - you couldn’t -

The person reached out for you - ever so gently, ever so carefully, their thumb grazing softly against your cheek to tuck away wet strands of your hair that clung uncomfortably to your face, and then the slender, long digits hesitantly combed their fingers through the rich locks of your h/c colored hair, slipping the other free arm around your smaller frame, pulling you into a warm embrace, into a hold that was hesitant and with the same awkwardness one would possess when holding an animal for the first time, as if they feared you'd shatter at the slightest of touches like the porcelain doll you looked like you were. But, it was comforting nonetheless, considering that you had never been hugged or comforted by anyone else before.

And then the voice of the person was whispering into your ears, murmuring sweet-nothings, though you could barely hear the voice above the deafening sound of blood rushing to your head, and your pulse ringing in your ears.

" Y/N, just focus on my voice. Count to ten with me, one, two, three…"

And so you did. You focused on the voice. The masculine voice was moon-stone smooth like velvet, raw with power and authority, fluid and graceful like the fresh flow of a youthful river, sweet and thick as the words tumbled past (his) lips, rich with silk and baritone, creamy and dark like chocolate and freshly brewed coffee - bittersweet. It was musical to your eardrums, silky and delicate as each word passed their lips without a hitch, soothing and comforting as it lulled you to breathe, easing your hammering heart.

Eventually, you just melted into their arms, your heavy head resting against their broad shoulder blade, as your cries died down to soft sniffles and the occasional hitch in your breath.

Their fingers were still stroking your hair, the other hand drawing sensous circles on your back, calming you down.

Your eyelids grew heavy with undeterred sleep and fatigue, a bone-deep weariness that latched itself onto you, a shapeless oblivion that whispered and coaxed you to give into the much-needed slumber.

You were tired. You were tired of everything, so you let sleep consume you whole, your eyes fluttering shut as you slipped from one world of nightmares to another, cradled in the arms of your awkward Potions Master as he comforted you.

{...}

YOUR eyes slowly fluttered open into the world once more, like the powdery wings of a butterfly beating into life, lustrous pools of e/c orbs that sparkled underneath the dim sunlight peeking through the window, though tearless, gentle opals that swirled with a kaleidoscope of colors, rich and intense and vivid beneath the sun's warm, loving kisses.

For a moment you laid immobile on the soft mattress beneath you, your limbs heavy with fatigue, every pore of your body drenched in a slow, lethargic sensation that made your mind feel hazy and disoriented. So instead, you snuggled in closer to the warmth of the bed, relishing in the rare tranquility the peaceful moment provided, basking underneath the heat of the sunlit kisses that peppered your skin and illuminated your soft, supple flesh in rich pools of molten gold, heightening the vibrant color of your large, deep beds of e/c that seemed to hold an entire constellation of stars within their depths.

You welcomed the warmth of the sun that danced across your petite frame, a delightfully warm, fuzzy blanket that bathed you, and the flecks of dust swirling within the beams of light wreathed around your h/c tresses, as if crowning your head in a halo you so rightfully deserved.

In that moment, you looked ethereal, radiating warmth that rivaled the sun itself in all of its magnificent glory, angelic even, your delicate face a canvas painted by serenity, when it was usually strained by a fake smile, or a melancholic sadness that was contagious.

Wait…

Bits and pieces of the memories of the previous night flooded your mind, and you stood upright on the bed, your limbs getting further entangled by the blankets, your spine rigid as panic slowly began to crawl into your senses.

You had been crying last night, in some foreign part of the castle. You had swept out of the Great Hall in a hurry so that no-one would see the tears brimming in your eyes when you had read the letter your owl, Nether, had delivered. Your parents had disowned you, you reminisced.

The dark, unwanted reminder wss enough to sour your mood, and all senses of tranquility and peace you had felt earlier evaded you. Your face darkened, and the tears returned to your precious gemstones of eyes again with a strong vengeance.

You quickly wiped them away from the corners of your eyes before they could soak your cheeks again. You lifted a delicate palm, tracing the tears stains that were cracked open into your cheeks like the remnants of a dried river split open into silky earth.

You froze, remembering, you hadn't returned to your dormitory that night. Someone had been there with you, though you didn't see who it was. Someone had comforted you, someone had seen you at your lowest, but hadn't left you there to suffer. Someone had actually stood by your side, and hadn't left you alone like everyone else had.

Your heart warmed at the thought, and you lifted a dainty palm to feel the weak pulses fluttering within your ribcage like the fleeting kiss of a dove's wings.

Tears pooled in your eyes, the glassy layer shimmering in a tender glow because of the cascade of the rich, golden sunlight, but this time, these tears were not of remorse or despair, but tears of pure happiness, something you hadn't felt in a while.

A powerful emotion rose within your chest, something fortifying, plucking at your heartstrings, almost like a slow-burning fire in a kindling hearth, dancing like a flickering flame within your soul, an emotion you had felt when you heard the pheonix' song, and you recognized it as hope.

Perhaps you hadn't lost everything. Perhaps there was still something salvageable within the disaster your life was in right now.

You rose from the bed, the loose, baggy shirt you were clad in falling down your hips, the sheets imprinting the shape of your body as your dainty feet met the icy cold tiles of the floor.

A small squeak of surprise escaped your parted, chapped lips and you almost immediately retreated your feet, before cautiously allowing them to come in contact with the freezing floor again. It was then you realized, after a long, dumb moment that you were not in your dormitory, not in your bed and certainly not in your clothes.

You freaked out.

You eyed your surroundings warily, suddenly wondering if you were too quick to judge that you had been helped by someone. It was a luxuriously larger room, with bookshelves crammed against the cool cobblestone walls, a somewhat small cot draped with comfortable, woolly blankets. You wondered who could own a room that was so welcoming and yet so cold at the same time.

Then you turned your attention to the large, black shirt that was draped over your small frame. It was definitely not yours; though it was quite comfortable. The fabric was soft and velvety in your hands, slipping from your fingers as delicately as silk when you grabbed a fistful of it. You breathed in its scent, and you were overwhelmed by the sharp fragrance of fire whiskey and the fresh aroma of rich earth and books that it was soaked in.

As you raked another glance over the room with your e/c orbs, the whole impact of the situation rammed into you like the white-hot tip of a spear, flooding your senses with panic. Despite how homey the room looked, you were in an unknown room in an unknown place, and the possibility of being kidnapped dawned on you as you bit your lips in anxiousness.

Almost as though the thought had escaped your mind and floated into the warm atmosphere, a deep, cold voice interrupted your internal musings.

" Took your sweet time in realizing. But then again, you have always been quite dense, L/N."

You let out an ear-piercing shriek that was sure to have woken the dead, startled by the sudden appearance of the owner of the voice.

Casually leaning against the wooden doorframe for Merlin knows how long, with his arms folded across his chest, and a perfectly manicured eyebrow arched at you, was the owner of the calming voice, your Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

It was then you realized that the person that had been with you last night was none other than him, and your cheeks burned ruby when you came to this realization. It was not because of anger or shame, but rather, embarrassment, because you held great respect for your Potions Professor, as he was the last person you wanted to see in your disheveled state the night before.

Grabbing a fistful of your shirt, you averted your gaze elsewhere, unable to meet his eyes. Wait…

It wasn't YOUR shirt.

It was HIS shirt you were dressed in, and heat rushed to your cheeks as the lewd possibility of him changing your clothes slipped into your mind. Almost as if he had read your mind, (which wouldn't be much of a surprise due to his Legilimency), he was quick to assure you that he had not changed your clothes, that Madame Pomfrey had, and you heaved a sigh of relief you didn’t know you had been holding in.

But then, all seriousness returned to your stoic Potions Master as he reattached his usual cold demeanor, the embarrassment fading away and his voice came out strict and stern, monotonous as it rang throughout the room that had filled with a loud, impenetrable silence.

" Care to tell me why you were choking on air last night L/N?" He inquired in his usual baritone voice, toneless as he asked, successfully lacing his rich voice with slight sarcasm so that he could conceal his growing concern. You were one of the best in his class, other than the know-it-all Granger, and though he would NEVER admit it, you had begun to grow on him with your cheeky smiles and witty remarks, and perhaps… he was growing a little fond of you.

You could feel Professor Snape's eyes boring into your skull even before you met his calculating gaze, and you didn't answer, your eyes burning as you desperately tried not to lose your composure in front of him.

" L/N, look at me!" He demanded, and you shook your head, your gaze lowering to the floor, eyes pooling with unshed tears as sobs threatened to wrack your body once again.

His question had unearthed old pain from where you had buried it deep within your heart, the feelings of anguish and bitterness rising within your chest again, hopelessness overwhelming you as you reminisced about your helpless plight.

You were vaguely aware that Professor Snape had drawn closer to you, but you were barely able to register anything as tears glazed your e/c orbs once more, making your vision spin and fill up with bleariness.

" Y/N, talk to me," He whispered, and this time, his voice was tender and raw with emotion as he addressed you by your first name, all formalities long gone and forgotten. You still did not meet his eyes, lacking the courage to do so, too afraid. He reached out for you, and a calloused but somehow gentle palm cupped your cheek as he took your chin in his forefinger and thumb, so that your gazes finally collided.

Instead of meeting hard obsidian that cut sharper than broken glass and steel blades, pools of darkness that glistened dully underneath the sunlight, your e/c orbs clashed against tender ebony optics that swirled with inky shadows of night. They were colorless and bleak, brimming with dark waters you could not wade within, starless skies that somehow thrived with a galaxy of dying stars, pooled with concern and rich with pure, unadulterated love and care, a small light twinkling within his dark orbs despite the fact that his sharp, black irises bled nebulous clouds of darkness, devouring light in their intensity.

" Please. "

Your efforts to keep your feelings at bay were in vain as a small whimper escaped traitorously through your parted lips, as you heard his voice, begging, pleading, and his eyes full of pure love that coaxed you to cry your woes away, and the dam burst. The anguished sobs burst from your lips, and the bitter cries and despaired wails that spilled from your lips shook the older man to the very core.

Before you knew it, his arms were wrapped around your smaller frame, pulling you close to him and enveloping you in a warmth that you been had deprived of. You latched onto him, clinging onto his robes for dear life, into a hold so desperately firm and with a fierce intensity that one would have to move mountains to pry him out of your surprisingly strong grasp. He stroked your back and comforted you as all the bitterness and raw agony you had swallowed and had harbored deep within your soul spilled past your lips, 'ugly' sobs wracking your small frame as you cried into his robes.

His hand reached up to stroke your hair, all the hesitancy and reluctantness that had been there the other night reduced to nothing, his soothing voice murmuring into the crown of your head, other hand rubbing circles around your back as you let the emotions your kept bottled up within your heart spill its poisonous contents, mumbling incoherent words through your tears. 

" Parents… Disowned… Nowhere…"

" Shh… I’m here, aren’t i? What do you think I'm going to do? Leave you out on the streets?" 

A small chuckle escaped you through your tears, and you smiled, despite the tears streaming down your face. You could feel the corners of his lips tilt upwards in a rare smile above your head, and your heart warmed. And as he cradled you in his strong, lean arms, the depression and worry that had cloaked you and suffocated you simply melted away, in his warm, secure embrace, evaporating into thin air. Your sobs stilled, the tears halting. But you didn’t let go of him. On the contrary, you gripped his robes even tighter (if possible, considering you were already choking the life out of him), silently begging him not to go just yet. This time, you were sure he was using Legilimency to scour your mind as he whispered, " I'm not going anywhere. " You forgave his intrusion, and snuggled in closer to his chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart it echoed melodiously within his ribcage. 

Maybe you could do this everyday, you thought to yourself and felt his warm smile above your head once again.

" Yes, perhaps we could do this everyday." 

#professor snape x platonic student reader #disowned reader #sad reader #harry potter feels #idk how to tag this shi

[noperopesaredope]

My Voltron Self-Insert OC

Recently, I've been choosing to embrace my inner "cringe" and start creating/reviving my more self-indulgent and goofy fan OCs. Specifically, ones that I'd typically feel "embarrassed" for making. I haven't made too many self-insert OCs over the years, however, I have made one or two, and did have a special "can travel between worlds OC" (who turned into a psychosis-induced coping mechanism for depression). Recently, I remembered one of these self-insert OCs of mine, and decided to bring her back to life.

She holds such a special place in my heart, and I can't bring myself to hate her, especially since she was created during a time when I was still discovering a lot of myself. She is actually an early sign of my gender fluidity, as she has a very masculine name with a very feminine appearance and pronouns. But even then, she’ll fuck around with gender. It doesn't matter to her. She was how I first realized that maybe I’m not cis, and I love her for that.

Plus, I lowkey kinda like her as a character? She was just really fun for me to work with. She was also both very similar to me at the time and very different. For example, she used she/her pronouns, as I was still figuring out my pronouns and gender identity at the time, and I prefer making female characters.

Her personality and the way she presents herself is also very different from both how I was then and how I am now. She honestly seems like a completely different person from me, but I still think of her as a self-insert, because that was the intent at the time. She is pretty cringy in some areas and a little bit OP, but even at the time, I tried to tone her down a bit.

So, without further ado, here is my old Voltron self-insert (warning: this is gonna be long):

Daniel Nathaniel!!!

Daniel is the "Orange Paladin". She is a bit complicated in backstory and stuff, so get ready guys, because this is gonna get a bit wild. There were a lot of intentional "holes" in the backstory with a few twists here and there, so I decided to write what I remembered and fill in the blanks with what I thought would be cool and fit.

Plotline:

Daniel Nathaniel was introduced in Season 2 in an episode titled “The Orange Paladin”. It starts where Voltron is battling a fleet of Galra, and is beginning to get overwhelmed. They aren’t completely losing by any means, but in order to win, they just need a tiny bit of backup. Suddenly, out of nowhere, what appears to be another Voltron lion (but a bit smaller and orange) bursts in and starts assisting them. Everyone is shocked, but they continue fighting, and they win the battle. They then manage to contact the person piloting the strange new lion, and tell them to meet up with them on a nearby planet.

The person agrees, and when they all step outside and watch the new lion land, the entrance to the lion opens, and out steps Daniel. She introduces herself and says that she has a lot of explaining to do. They invite her inside the castle, and once they all sit down, Daniel begins telling her “backstory.” 

She was once a cadet at the Garrison, and when she heard about the missing cadets, she decided to do some investigating. She ended up discovering the cave where the Blue Lion was originally hidden, and found a few clues related to Voltron. She managed to do some digging on the little bits and pieces of history that gave clues to what the lions even were. This led her to a different remote location where she discovered a secret "arch" type thing that turned out to be a portal to a different planet.

There, she stumbled across the “Orange Lion”, and was able to connect with it. Due to the link between lions and their paladins and the fact that the Orange Lion has more telepathic abilities, Daniel was able to learn more about what exactly Voltron was and what the deal was with the Orange Lion. Allegedly, the Orange Lion was not one of the original lions, but one that was made later as a sort of “power up.” 

It didn’t need to be present to form Voltron, it would just be able to attach itself to it and give it extra strength. It was made much later than the others, as a new comet was found around the time Zarkon was beginning to act up. Altean scientists turned it into a small, extra “upgrade” lion that could attach to Voltron, a failsafe for backup due to the escalating conflict. Due to it being finished right near the end of the war, there was no time to find a paladin for it, and it was hidden even further away than the other lions.

Allura and Coran are confused, as they don’t remember any of this. Daniel says that her lion said that Haggar probably messed with everyone’s memories of the Orange Lion so that, in case they managed to get Voltron back together, nobody remembers to look for the Orange Lion. Allura and Coran vaguely recall the Orange Lion, but the memories feel fuzzy and off. However, they don’t question it much.

(Important sidenote: Daniel is lying)

Daniel becomes a member of the team and fights as backup in battle. She also becomes close to the others quite quickly. There are hints here and there of Daniel knowing more than she says, and being in on secrets that she shouldn’t know, but it is continuously brushed off. There are also a lot of holes in her story, especially when she talks about her life before Voltron. In general, there is something incredibly suspicious about her, but it’s just subtle enough for the characters not to question it. However, the show draws just enough attention to these inconsistencies for it to be clear that the viewer is supposed to notice that something is wrong here.

She is wary of Lotor and believes that he is lying, and she says that something feels off about Shiro during Seasons 3-6. There are generally a lot of moments where she appears to know more about people than she lets on.

When everyone learns that Shiro is a clone, they all clearly seem to feel betrayed and want the real Shiro back. But Daniel cautiously argues in favor of the clone, saying that he is currently being mind controlled, and that even if he was kinda being the worst, they still spent a while getting to know Clone Shiro. 

For all they know, he himself might not know that he isn’t the real Shiro. Maybe he himself wasn’t real, but the memories were, and she “knows in her heart” that he wasn’t pretending. Every battle they fought together, every memory they made together, every moment of friendship, all of it was genuine. This speech is written to be emotional, but slightly suspicious, as though Daniel is hiding some things.

The other characters begin to suspect that something is up, and it seems like she is speaking for more than just Clone Shiro. They question her a bit, but eventually decide to just leave it be for now. Small side note about the Clone Shiro plotline: we at some point have a scene in the special realm (can’t remember what it’s called) where the souls of OG Shiro and Clone Shiro get to interact. OG Shiro reveals to Clone Shiro that he was a clone. Clone Shiro is clearly distraught by this, and starts having an existential crisis. He understands that OG deserves to come back, but Clone also doesn’t want to disappear.

OG realizes that despite not being the best, Clone still clearly cares about the team, and he is still his own person. OG ends up giving him an offer. They both want to be Shiro. And right now, their team wants OG back, but OG understands that Clone doesn’t deserve to be left behind or erased. So the best solution would be to merge their souls together and become one person. That way, they can both exist and have the best of both worlds. Clone is hesitant at first, but realizes the advantages to this, and he agrees.

They shake hands, and when Shiro wakes up, he reveals to the team that they (evenly, so it isn’t like there is a dominant personality) merged together into one, and he might be a bit different now, but he’s still Shiro. I believe that this allows everything to be mostly the same, but feels less cruel to Clone Shiro and is more sweet. I remember watching it for the first time and being upset by the whole thing, since Clone Shiro clearly wasn’t trying to betray anyone, and he still formed those bonds with the others. So I decided to fix it a bit by explaining it a little further.

Anyways, back to Daniel. During the latter half of the series, it is revealed that Daniel has been lying about everything this whole time. And when I say everything, I mean everything. I might make this occur during the Season 6 finale, soon after Clone Shiro is revealed, making it a bit of a double hit. Partway through the battle at the end of Season 6, during a big and important moment, Daniel is dramatically injured in front of everyone in the fighting.

An important thing to note here is that, despite fighting multiple harsh battles throughout the series, Daniel has never really gotten hurt before, even minor injuries. Things that have hurt the rest of the team don’t hurt her, or she is consistently the quickest to recover, with no notable damage. It’s almost unusual, and may actually be subtly pointed out at some point. It’s often played off as a coincidence, but astute viewers will notice that something is wrong here.

But when Daniel finally gets injured, it’s significant, as she straight up loses an ear, causing her to bleed in excess. It isn’t overly gorey, with her covering that area with her hand, and the injury isn’t focused on, but the blood is clearly there. But instead of red blood, she is bleeding green. She stands there in shock as the other characters present look at the ground to the detached ear, which has turned into what looks like a blue, bat-ear-shaped ear. Daniel looks at the ear, then the others as different areas of her body begin to shift and change into something different, but in a held back way. She is trying to hold it back.

Pidge (who is likely the one standing closest to her, asks “who are you?” Daniel quickly says that she is still Daniel, and that she isn’t a fake version. Pidge then says “well, you clearly aren’t who you pretend you are.” And finally, Daniel admits that the Orange Paladin never really existed, that it was all a lie, and almost everything they knew about her was made up. There is no Fake Daniel, because Daniel was always fake.

She then passes out due to blood loss, and they manage to patch her up while trying to figure out their next steps. When she eventually wakes up, Daniel decides to tell everyone the truth.

She is what’s known as a Mutivesstallus, a member of a species which was nearly wiped out by Zarkon and the Galra. Mutivessallum (the plural for Mutivesstallus) have two primary abilities: shapeshifting and extreme mind powers. They are able to read minds, peer into others’ memories, slightly alter existing memories (though this is harder, and once someone realizes that the memory was false, they will remember the original memory), and generally scan people’s psychies. They can often figure out more about a person than the person knows about themselves. Mutivessallum are often hyper-empathic and very understanding, and have the unfortunate flaw of constantly giving others the benefit of the doubt and being overly forgiving.

Mutivessallum’s shapeshifting is only limited to organic and living species, and they have a harder time shifting into beings that are larger than them. However, with time and practice, a Mutivessallus is able to shift into a large variety of things. Daniel, having lived for a long while (she’s still somewhat young for her species, but has existed for quite a while due to longer lifespans), is relatively experienced enough to shapeshift into something like a human, which is about her size. However, due to me not wanting her to get too OP, she has a harder time shifting into bigger creatures, or can only shift into a select few due to practicing shifting into specific ones with similar biology to her kind.

After many of the Mutivessallum were destroyed, Daniel (who’s real name is something else, but none of the other characters can pronounce it, so she says they can still call her Daniel) was left alone and vengeful. She wished to destroy Zarkon, but didn’t have the means to, and all she could do was wander space and travel to other planets. Then, word spread about Voltron, and Daniel became hopeful. She wanted to help them defeat Zarkon and maybe become a member of their team. For complicated reasons (even before this reveal, she is consistently shown to think in a very different way from everyone else and has an unusual line of logic), she decides to go and find a legendary wish-granting being who is able to create most anything in the universe. Due to already being close to said being, she asks them to help her make a Voltron lion of her own so she can join Voltron and help them.

The being thinks that this is a bad idea, but Daniel manages to convince them to do it, and together, they design something extremely close to a lion that can be semi-compatible with Voltron. The being then grants her wish, and Daniel's beloved ship is transformed into this thing. Daniel believes that the team won’t accept her if she is her real self, so she decides to make a person for herself that will “make them more comfortable around me.” She does some research on humans, and gives herself a unique human form with a false identity. “They will trust another human like them than a random creature like me.” 

Upon meeting the team and them beginning to ask questions, Daniel begins to panic, and worries that they will kick her out if they learn the truth about her and her lion. So she lies. She later works on constructing a more stable and well thought out backstory for herself, and using her powers, she manages to trick everyone into believing her story.

Everyone feels extremely betrayed and conflicted, because she has been a legitimately great friend to them, and she seems legitimately sorry. She’s also done a lot of stuff that has gained their trust, and proven that she genuinely wants to be a part of the team. She cares about them and thinks of them as a second family to her, and she fully believes in their cause. The problem is that she lied to them for a long while, and basically gaslit them. They decide not to kick her out, but they do let her know that she’ll need to earn their trust back, and stop lying. From then on, Daniel mostly remains in her true form, and she changes her lion to be its own thing.

This is good, because the Orange Lion was previously slightly messing up the balance between the lions, and it was already basically its own thing. Daniel begins to let her true self show and separates herself from her human persona. But everyone soon realizes that her persona and her true self weren’t completely separate. Yes, her identity was fake, but her personality was not. Some of her human-specific interests were things she used to seem more human, but once she tried them, she genuinely enjoyed them, and even continued to engage in the same hobbies as she did when she was pretending to be human.

Even elements of her fictional life on Earth are not that different from her real life. She had a younger sibling, and most of the stories she told about her friends and family are slightly true, just altered to fit with Earth customs.

About 5 or so episodes into Season 7, a few of the others catch her hanging out in her human form, and she admits that she feels comfortable in it, and that every form she creates for herself feels like one of her “true forms”. Her human form isn’t just a persona, and she confesses that she feels like her real self in both forms. They all agree that she can still go into her human form, she just shouldn’t pretend that she was born a human, and that this is merely one of her alternate forms.

So for the rest of the series, Daniel switches back and forth between forms, and even shifts into other forms that she has taken on in the past. She also is more open about using her powers, letting the others know when she has sensed something with her powers or found out something. She later admits that she feels incredibly free being every version of herself and not hiding anything. 

Gradually, the others forgive her, and begin to trust her again, especially since she doesn’t use her powers on them. She still senses their emotions and can subtly read what is generally on their mind, but that is because she can’t turn off that part of her powers. They understand this, and she rarely does anything with any knowledge she has on them. Even though her role in the team has somewhat changed, everyone still feels like she is a part of the team, she is just more similar to Coran or Season 1-2 Allura now.

So, that’s most of what I have for Daniel’s storyline in the series! This post is getting pretty long, so I will soon make a part 2 explaining her personality (which is probably more important than her storyline, but whatever) and her relationships with the other characters. But for now, I hope you liked her.

When I first created Daniel in middle school, I realized that there were lots of holes in her backstory, to the point that I even made it so that the others were suspicious of her. It just didn’t make much sense for there to be another lion, and I always wanted her to pick up on more than she should. I early on had given her mind powers that allowed her to know more than she should, but even then that felt out of place. Slightly later on, but still during middle school, I wanted her to secretly be an alien, but it just added a few more holes. Why wasn’t anyone questioning it? 

Then, recently, while coming back to her, I thought, “what if all her odd character traits were the point? What if she was a character who was able to slightly manipulate the world around her so that she could be important to the story? What if she was a slightly meta commentary on how self-inserts will manipulate the entire story and lore in order to make the author feel like they can belong in this fictional world?” I thought that could be pretty fun, so I ran with it. Daniel is not supposed to fit. Her backstory is supposed to not make sense. She is not supposed to be there. That is the point.

However, she doesn’t do all this out of malice. She does it because she wants somewhere to belong. She wants to belong to a specific group of people, she wants to fit in with them and join them on adventures and be cool like them. But she can’t find a way to do that, so she twists the world around her in order to fit into the narrative. I try to be careful about how I present her morality, and how she isn’t a bad person, but she has done something bad by manipulating and lying. It does take some work for the team to forgive her, but they do learn to forgive her, because she changes and grows. And even if her story was fake, the bonds were real. Her personality is real. Even her fake identity has some genuineness to it.

I really loved working on her, especially the meta aspect of her story, and I enjoy writing about her and her interactions with the team. She is a sweetheart who is flawed and messy, and even though she can be a bit of a Mary Sue, I don’t really care. Plus, that is the idea. She is supposed to be a Mary Sue on a narrative level, and even then, she breaks some of the conventions because her actions have consequences and she fails frequently.

So she is generally a fun character to me, and I hope other people think she’s interesting. But at the end of the day, she was born a self-indulgent self insert, and I don’t really care if people think she is cringy. I enjoyed writing about her, and I hope to make more art of her, since she was really fun to draw. I hope some of ya’ll are willing to hear more about her. Stay tuned if you’re curious!

#thing whole thing is about three thousand words long and took hours. god damn #voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron oc #netflix voltron #dreamworks #dreamworks voltron #vld #my oc #voltron fan oc #self insert #vld oc #my self insert #self indulgence at its finest #art #fanart #oc fanart #voltron fanart #voltron fandom #my art #non binary #gender queer #queer characters #queer journey #she was a part of my journey and she was an important part #i need to acknowledge that #fandom #fan creations #fan character #vld fanart

[numerousbees1106]

Wasteland Scraps

Various cut tidbits from my Wastelands story! These are from various chapters, specifically chapters 5-8 :)

…

Where was he?

His limbs were heavy and somewhat tingly, but otherwise responsive and relatively pain-free. He moved to cover his face with a hand, only to smack someone else in their face.

“Uhnhgggg…” said person groaned.

“Max,” Piett called, recognizing that groan from a few-too-many drunken Imperial hangouts.

“Hnng?” Veers moaned again, twitching.

“Max, get off of me.”

The Imperial General swiftly rolled over, flopping next to Piett with no shortage of wordless complaint.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Piett scanned their surroundings.

It seemed to be a medical room of some sort, with a blinding, sterile atmosphere and an abundance of related machinery. An active bacta tank sat in the middle of the room, and a quick buzz from the Mindlink confirmed who it was.

He had been so certain that this week would be his last. Now, bound in chains and forced to kneel in absolute darkness, he wished more than ever that he had died like he was supposed to.

He remembered shattering the mindscape (he refused to think about why he had spiraled, lest he spiral again) and causing his Hivemind to collapse, injured but alive. The others in the group hadn’t been so lucky, and neither had the remainder of all the lifeforms in the base - even the stray tookas loitering around had not been spared.

He remembered his Master looming over him, a scowl on his features as he ordered Red Guards to lift him to a nearby hoverstretcher. He remembered watching as medics from his own fleet approached Piett and Veers, and he remembered the way his Master instructed the guards to cover him with a sheet, lest anyone else see. He remembered the shame, the humiliation that such an order brought, like he was something disgusting that needed to be hidden from view.

Mostly, he remembered how his severed jaw hung grimly from the wire necklace, glinting in the light, making him sick with fear.

“You must grow stronger,” Lord Vader insisted. “It is pertinent for our relationship for you to be able to defeat me in battle, for you to be able to kill me should the need arise.”

Piett blinked at him, stunned.

“Why, in all the Galaxy, would that be a needed skill?” Piett snapped, horrified.

Vader simply tilted his head, equally perplexed.

“It is important for relationships to be balanced, to be equal,” he said, finally. “I have been researching healthy relationships, and that seems to be a recurring sentiment.”

Piett pushed away the amusing absurd mental image of Lord Vader googling “how to have healthy relationship??? help???” and instead continued to stare at his idiot other.

“I must admit, I do not have very much experience with ‘healthy relationships’ or ‘boundaries’ or any of the other things I found in the advice I have received. I suppose that I will be… learning.”

Piett took a deep breath, resisting the urge to place his face in his palms.

“My Lord. Darling. Babe. That’s not what that means.”

Silence, save for the rhythmic breathing.

“They don’t mean physical prowess when they talk about a balanced relationship dynamic, though it is incredibly sweet that you thought so.”

“Then what do they mean?” Vader huffed, annoyed.

“They mean, like, financially, or when it comes to household chores, and stuff,” Piett replied.

“I… I do not have any money, personally,” Vader admitted. Piett just stared at him, unsure of what he meant.

“If necessary, I am permitted by the Emperor to utilize funds given to me, but I do not have anything else.”

“Hold on, excuse me?” Piett squawked, incredulous. “Aren’t you getting paid?”

Another blank stare from underneath the mask - Piett could feel it.

“For what?” He asked.

“For your job.”

“I do not have a job.”

“Then what do you call this?”

Staring at the screen, he found himself enraptured in what he saw, yet in disbelief of it at the same time.

After passing out in the mindscape, Piett had awoken to the crisp, sterile atmosphere of Recovery. The front of his skull had been fractured, just above his frontal lobe, and the medics said it was a miracle that he survived, let alone that he’d continue to survive with no further complications or long-lasting effects. Even more shocking, they said, was that the same exact thing had happened to General Veers.

He had felt much the same way hearing that tale as he did now, staring at the I-SORE (a rather unfortunate name, if you asked Piett - the place really was beautiful, and in no way an actual eyesore) report, seeing his name listed as the co-discoverer of a new species of warbler.

Of course, when Lord Vader had inexplicably called to him, a small bird in his hands, he had been… perplexed? Bemused? Experiencing an odd mixture of ‘what in the galaxy is happening’ and ‘oh shining stars that is SO romantic’? Either way, he didn’t quite know how to express, with words, the confusing mixture of emotions he felt.

He hadn’t seen what Lord Vader had opted to name the bird, or if he had even decided to name it at all. In fact, he hadn’t even known Lord Vader to be the least bit interested in birds, and Piett couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling he felt in his chest when he realized they possibly had a (very unexpected) shared interest. Still, never in his wildest of dreams could he have imagined that Lord Vader would have named the bird after him. And yet, staring in front of him in unyielding text were the words Piett’s Warbler, and Piett felt ready to just pass out then and there.

#ao3 #ao3 author #cut content #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #original trilogy #darth vader #firmus piett #piett/vader #pieder #maximilian veers

[swallowtailed]

parsley, sage

The Bloom is beautiful.

It’s the first in a century—the first since the war, since the annexations, since the upheavals. Hob had hoped to refuse his invitation, up until his king gave orders for him to attend alongside the Lady Sylmenar. His aim, beginning from the very first day, is to keep his head down and get through without thinking about the last Bloom he attended.

And Hob, head thus lowered, stumbles over the hem of a silken robe. He rights himself hastily and looks up into the blank, grinning mask of a member of the Court of Wonder’s Chorus.

“Forgive me,” he says quietly, doffing his hat in the Seelie fashion. “I was unaware of my surroundings.”

“No, please,” the Chorister says. Their voice is low and sweet, and melodic, seeming to ring with the vibration of strings. “I was lost in thought. The fault was all mine.”

Hob doesn’t have it in him to argue. He bows and continues past the Chorister, toward the Seelie encampment.

Then the Chorister speaks behind him. “But—pardon me, but you must be Major Hob?”

Hob stops and turns back, facing the grinning mask again. “Colonel Hob,” he corrects. “Of the Goblin Court.” It’s been twenty years since he was lieutenant colonel, sixty since he was major, a century since he was captain. Still, strangers occasionally mistake his rank.

“Colonel,” the Chorister repeats. “Of course.” It sounds hollower. Hob deduces that the harmonic hum of stringed instruments has gone, leaving only their voice. They sound oddly familiar.

“May I inquire whether we have met before?” he asks. “I apologize if I do not recognize you; these many years…”

The Chorister’s smiling mask hangs silently above their shroud.

“I apologize,” Hob says again, hastily. “I believed that we might have had some meeting—you reminded me briefly of an—an acquaintance, someone... I am sorry.”

“We’ve met,” the Chorister says quickly. “We have met before. At—a long time ago.”

“I see,” Hob says. He’s not entirely sure whether he wants to inquire further. If this Chorister knows him as Major, they must have met either in battle or at the last Bloom. Neither possibility is particularly welcome.

The Chorister steps forward, one gloved hand rising as if to reach out—Hob stiffens—but then they pause and look back toward Wonder’s tower. A trio of Choristers are approaching, moving smoothly and steadily toward their position.

The Chorister addresses him: “I’m sorry to have taken up your time. Good afternoon, Colonel.” They turn and start toward their approaching fellows. Then, fleeting, they take one last glance back over their shoulder. The void eyes of their mask meet Hob’s.

He’s seen that glance before.

He recognizes them in their haste away. A forest glade, a twilit sky, a peacock feather—even in their glamour, they moved with such grace and dignity. Even now, in the mask and robe.

A hundred years dry his mouth. His sash, hung with medals, weighs him down.

In the distance, across the field, the Chorister rejoins their compatriots and sets off toward Wonder.

After a moment—seconds too long—Hob turns his back, and continues away.

#are you going to scarborough fair #parsley sage rosemary and thyme #remember me to one who lives there #they were once a true love of mine... #a court of fey and flowers #delloso de la rue #kp hob #ruehob #battlemaster of ceremonies #SORRY THIS ONE IS SAD #just had to get it out #hello world #my fic