#hoping the writing momentum continues

[foreveranevilregal]

Pepa with insomnia? And how it affects Felix?

I'm back! I know I took a bit of a break from writing, but I'm back to doing prompts. This was a really fascinating idea; I loved delving into how her anxiety spills into insomnia. It's more of a character study, but I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you like it!

It was happening again. The dreams. One minute she was sound asleep, the next she was bolting upright, chest heaving from her jagged breaths. There would be no getting back to sleep. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, planting her feet on the ground.

He must have sensed the shift in the mattress; the way it dipped lower before rising abruptly. A hand reached out towards her. “Can’t sleep again?” He murmured sleepily.

“No,” she answered quietly. Her hand closed over his, giving it a quick squeeze. “Lo siento, mi amor.”

And sorry she was, she reflected; standing up and turning to face her still sleeping husband, whose body sprawled over half the bed, yet did not encroach on the space meant to be hers. Space that was rapidly cooling, leaving the hand resting there touching cold sheets.

She was familiar with the phenomenon, of course, having experienced it on the other side of sunrise. When her racing mind would finally run out of fuel and allow her to rest, she would collapse into bed. If she was lucky, her sleep would overlap somewhat with Félix’s. Usually, she would fall asleep just as he was rising. And then it was her turn to touch cold sheets.

Of course, they were never quite as cold in the morning as they were in the middle of the night when she would rouse.

Everything was worse at night. The darkness thick, enveloping her like an inky fog. The cacophony of jungle sounds all the more jarring without the noises of people going about their day to camouflage it. The thoughts in her head free to take over, unencumbered by the endless list of errands she would undertake during the day to stave them off.

Thoughts that were currently rendering her unable to sleep next to her husband, the way she should be. That caused her to wake up, trying to smooth out the deep shuddering breaths and calm her pounding heart. That hung the cloud over her head whose smothering presence she could feel more than see.

When her mind raced like this, she felt like a windup toy that someone had wound until the key jammed and then stuck in a box; rattling restlessly, unable to rid itself of the pent-up energy inside. Fortunately, though her mind felt trapped, her body was entirely free to move. So move she would.

Crossing to the other side of the bed, she pressed a gentle kiss to Félix’s cheek, whispering another contrite apology. They both knew that her sleepless nights rolled into miserable mornings, when she would show up for breakfast too late, gulping down scalding hot coffee just to keep herself awake through the meal. The coffee made her heart race, and she didn’t love the bitterness, but she’d learned to accept drinking it black.

She’d learned to accept a lot of darkness in her life.

Like how when she was a young girl, she saw things lurking in the shadows that danced on the walls. Things that her mamá insisted firmly were just a figment of her imagination, sometimes accompanied by a touch of exasperation. At a certain point, the idea that Pepa was too old for such nonsense got peppered in. Pepa had never wanted to make her mamá mad, and she knew how hard she worked all day to keep the encanto running smoothly. After a while, she stopped bothering her mamá with her nighttime torment. But she kept seeing them.

Things that Bruno told her were all manner of scary monsters, waiting to snatch her up. The wider her eyes grew in terror, the more he kept embellishing his stories, lips spreading in an indulgent grin until he would break down in laughter and say he was only kidding.

After Julieta realized this was happening, she scolded him sternly, telling him to knock it off. She tried to reassure Pepa, that the shadows were merely objects around the room leaving their grotesquely stretched imprint on the walls. It wasn’t a bogeyman, just a table and lamp casting an unfortunately distorted shadow.

When they turned 5, their casita had given them magical gifts. Bruno had gotten the gift of prophecy. His stories, though they had gotten rarer, were all the more terrifying now, especially when he made his eyes glow green while he was talking.

Julieta had gotten the gift of healing. Pepa had lost count of how many times she had begged her for an arepa or pandebono or something to heal her from the horrors inside her head. Even though Julieta always obliged her with whatever food she had on hand, it never helped.

Pepa got the gift of affecting the weather with her mood. It was small things at first, like a light drizzle when she was upset, or a few extra rays of sunshine when she was happy. But as she grew, her power did too, and soon, her stormy moods became literal.

Although Casita had provided them with their own magical rooms once they received their gifts, the triplets preferred to keep sharing. They had grown used to having each other around as they slept. Pepa especially craved the closeness, clinging to Julieta fiercely, as if her sister could protect her from the threatening shapes.

Eventually, they got too old to keep sharing and relented to sleep in their own rooms. But Pepa snuck in to see Julieta and Bruno more often than not. Mostly Julieta, but she also liked her brother more at night now that he wasn’t exacerbating her fears. Sometimes she would just curl up into Julieta and cry as sleeplessness took over her young self, relishing the comfort her sister would offer in return. But then the next morning, she would see Julieta with bags under her eyes, and her mother’s words would ring in her ears.

Pepa had to learn how to get through nights by herself.

The way she was doing now, she mused, wandering aimlessly through the hallways. Bright moonlight bathed the floors where it shone in through the windows. She climbed down the stairs gingerly, careful not to wake anyone else. Old wooden floors creaked under her feet, and she did her best to keep her footsteps light. The steps cast a strange shadow on the floor, a violent zigzag stretched so far that if it were a physical object, it would have snapped. But she didn’t fear shadows anymore.

Life had gotten a bit easier once she realized that the shadows weren’t figures lurking there just to scare her. It coincided with the triplets going off to school. Being around other kids, she learned very quickly what was normal and what wasn’t. Shadows, even weird ones, were normal.

Her gift, on the other hand, was not. Most of the time, she could keep it in check. Control it, even. Every time she made it rain on the crops, or sunny to dry clothes, people were always grateful to her and her Madrigal gift. But when her emotions overwhelmed her, when she felt the tears flooding her eyes… well… sometimes she actually flooded. Lord knows the floor of her classroom wasn’t in need of rain. Yet rain she did after failing her first test. And the courtyard didn’t need an ugly gash running through it, but she couldn’t control the bolt of lightning that crashed down next to her. In her defense, those boys shouldn’t have been trying to touch her.

Of course, the piéce de résistance of her long list of weather-related disasters was the hurricane she caused on her wedding day. Okay, it wasn’t exactly her fault. Bruno had provoked her. Again. It was his fault she caused a hurricane.

The shadows that haunted her morphed from literal to figurative. Her dreams were no longer filled with shadowy figures waiting to ambush her. Now they featured her schoolmates, laughing at her for crying so hard she ruined her notebook. Calling her names behind her back, many of which her mamá would have washed her mouth out with soap for repeating. Mocking her mercilessly for anything and everything they could think of, from her hair to, later on, how friendly she was with boys. Mostly from boys she wasn’t so friendly with.

She would always wake suddenly, panting hard, with a shadowy cloud overhead. Her heart would pound like a drum and her hands felt clammy and cold, like they did when she’d get sick all the time before Julieta got her gift. Sleep was impossible, so she’d toss and turn futilely until the sun rose above the horizon, heralded by the rooster.

Until she realized that, if she was already unable to sleep, there was no point staying in bed. After that, she would get up and wander around until she tired herself out enough to sleep again. People would comment on her tiredness, and she’d always make up some lame excuse. They’d also comment on how quietly she walked, and how often she’d startle them. It was an ability born of involuntary practice.

When she got older, she started leaving the house; sneaking out silently to meander around town. Seeing her animal friends always helped her feel a little better, especially the dogs, to whom she’d give an affectionate pat on the head. There were a few spots she liked to visit when the worries got too loud, but her favorite was the river.

Her mother didn’t like her going near the river, always cautioning her against it. Pepa supposed she thought it was too dangerous, that Pepa would fall in and get swept away by the current, never to be seen again, or God forbid, drown. This supposition was never brought up to her mother.

However, Pepa was careful not to fall in (and unbeknownst to her mother, a strong swimmer as well). She’d sit by the bank, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she stared into the gleaming blackness of the river, broken up by starlight skittering across the surface. What she really loved about the river was that it was loud. Loud enough to drown out the roaring thoughts inside her head.

This was where she was headed now. She knew Félix would be worried if he woke up yet again to find her half of the bed still empty, so she hoped the thrum of the current would soothe her sooner.

Meeting him had been a godsend. Maybe she was the one that could produce sunlight at will, but he was the real sunshine. Many couples joked about how their spouses were the sun in their lives. In her case, it was actually true.

He’d moved to the encanto when the triplets had turned thirteen. He was a little older, and made his presence known from the get-go. Félix was outgoing, lively, charming, funny... He was able to calm her down when no one else could. She hadn’t even realized she was falling in love with him until one day she saw him holding hands with another girl and got the urge to knock her lights out.

Granted, the other girl would have been all wrong for him. Her friend deserved someone way better. Someone who he enjoyed spending time with, who made him laugh too, who could keep up with his dancing. Someone like…her.

He’d given her a pair of sun earrings after they started officially courting, claiming that when he looked at her, he saw the sun. But he was the real sun. If anything, she was the moon; absorbing brightness from him and reflecting it out into the world. It was a more apt comparison, in her opinion. He was an insufferable morning person, like Julieta. When his enthusiastic effervescence wasn’t getting on her nerves, it gave her the boost she needed to get through those awful morning hours before she fully woke up, even after the coffee kicked in.

And she was a night owl. She liked to stay up late, reading, until his snoring caused her to be unable to focus on what happened with María anymore. Then she’d set her book down and snuggle up next to him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. At first, she slept a lot better just having him there next to her. But after a while, her night terrors returned once more.

It got worse after Dolores was born. The pregnancy had been so exhausting, she slept clear through the night. But once she was born, Pepa was back to being as twitchy as a mouse. Her dreams changed to accommodate her new fears of being a bad mother, of not caring for her child properly, losing her, hurting her, failing her. Félix, fortunately, was a heavy sleeper, and hardly woke when she did. Pepa would always take care of any nighttime baby business. It just made sense, seeing as she was already awake. Besides, Félix worked so hard…he deserved his rest.

In between caring for her babies, her sleep fluctuated; sometimes better, sometimes worse.

(Except after Bruno disappeared. Then, she would sleep all day and toss and turn all night. But she couldn’t bear to remember that.)

Félix had been wonderful to her throughout all of parenthood. He insisted on taking a more active role with Camilo, hoping that her insomnia stemmed from motherly obligation, and would always give her a kiss and whispered “sleep well”. But it was pointless. Worse, it was affecting him. Where before he would be the first one at the fields, ready to work, now he would lumber in last, stifling yawns the entire time he was there.

Pepa couldn’t stand to see him like this, so they went back to their earlier routine after Antonio’s surprise arrival. For some reason, he’d been easier. Sure, he had all the typical baby nighttime needs, but more often than not, it was his cries that awoke her rather than the twisted voices in her head chanting their litany of all her shortcomings. She guessed that she’d worked through those particular worries by then.

Eventually, her nocturnal turmoil resumed. It had become a sick sort of routine for them: Pepa waking in the middle of the night, Félix sleeping alone, Pepa stumbling into bed exhausted in the early morning just as Félix was getting ready to start his day. They slept alone more often than either of them would have liked, and she knew he missed her as much as she missed him.

Thankfully, it wasn’t happening nearly as often now. Losing her gift was ironically the best gift she could have asked for. Without a physical and destructive manifestation of her emotions, she’d been able to work through things that had been bothering her since she was a child. Even after it returned, she slept a lot better, and as a result, Félix did too.

She passed the church, its steeple distinctive even in the darkness. When she was younger, she used to pray to God to take the fears away. It didn’t seem to help much. Now she prayed for more important things, like the health of her husband and children. They were all doing fine. Perhaps God liked those prayers better.

A cobblestone jutting up made her lose her footing. She rubbed at her bleary eyes, looking up towards the horizon. The sky was still dark, lacking even the faintest tinge of gray, so she guessed not that long had passed. It wasn’t like she could look at the clock to check. Her feet had become uncertain in her weariness. Time for her to return home.

She slipped into the house unnoticed, climbing back into bed as quietly as she could, taking care not to lie on top of Félix’s hand still stretched over the empty expanse of mattress.

As soon as she was under the covers, his arm swung over her hip, pulling her closer to himself subconsciously. He mumbled something unintelligible and smiled in his sleep.

Pepa pressed herself closer into his body. He felt so warm after the chill of the nighttime air. Soon, he would warm her up too, and then they would be sharing each other’s warmth together, asleep in bed at the same time.

The way things were always supposed to be, and the way she hoped they’d stay.

#pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #julieta madrigal #bruno madrigal #pepa x felix #felix x pepa #feliepa #writing feliepa #writing encanto #writing pepa madrigal #writing answered prompts #asks #anonymous #foreveranevilregal writes #this ended up being mostly about pepa's experience #but she reflects on how it affects him too #always open to new prompts #hoping the writing momentum continues #pregnancy mention #forgot to tag this earlier sorry

[natsaffection]

Reward | N.R

MINORS DNI 18+!

Summary: Natasha is proud of her best player.

Warnings: g!p Natasha, kinda manipulative, desk sex, rough sex

Word count: 1,9k

A/n: first time writing g!p. It’s a little rushed, but that came suddenly in my mind 🧍🏻‍♀️

The halftime buzzer echoed through the gymnasium, signaling a break in the intense game. Natasha, clad in her coaching attire, surveyed the court with a stern expression. The tension in the air was palpable.

Natashas piercing gaze followed the players as they retreated into the locker room. Her team was trailing, and the urgency of the situation reflected in the crease of her brow.

As the players settled into the locker room, Natasha’s eyes remained fixed on you. A silent understanding passed between you both – Natasha knew that you were their last hope for a comeback. The weight of expectations rested squarely on the your shoulders, and Natasha’s intense stare conveyed the gravity of the moment.

Inside the locker room, the air was charged with anticipation. Natasha, standing at the center, addressed the team with a steely resolve. “This is our chance to turn the game around. We’ve got the skills, the talent, but we need to play as a cohesive unit. Y/n, you’re our linchpin. The team looks up to you, and we need your best performance out there.”

Her eyes bore into you, emphasizing the crucial role you played in the team’s destiny. Natasha delved into the intricacies of the revised strategy, urging the players to synchronize their movements and capitalize on their strengths. The locker room echoed with the intensity of Natasha’s words, each one a call to action.

You, absorbing Natasha’s gaze, felt the weight of responsibility but also a surge of determination. This was the moment to prove yourself, not just as an individual player but as the catalyst for the team’s resurgence. Natasha’s demanding coaching style became a beacon of inspiration rather than an obstacle, pushing the team to elevate their game.

As Natasha continued to outline the strategy, her eyes never wavered from you. It was as if she could see the potential waiting to be unleashed. The halftime break ended, and the team, led by Natasha, returned to the court with a renewed sense of purpose. The second half unfolded with precision and determination and your team executed Natasha’s strategy flawlessly.

Under Natasha’s watchful eye, you showcased her your exceptional skills with a fierce determination. Every move was calculated, every shot purposeful. The team rallied around you, the synergy evident in their coordinated efforts. The scoreboard gradually shifted in their favor, the gap closing with each passing minute.

Feeling the weight of Natasha's expectations, you drove towards the basket with a newfound determination. The opponents, sensing the shift in momentum, intensified their defense. Yet, you maneuvered skillfully, executing a flawless layup that brought the crowd to their feet. A quick glance towards Natasha revealed a subtle nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal play.

However, the game was far from over. The opponents retaliated, scoring a basket that widened the gap. Natasha's stern expression betrayed a momentary tension – a coach acutely aware of the precarious situation. Her jaw tightened, and the lines on her forehead deepened as she contemplated the next move.

Gathering the team during a timeout, Natasha's voice cut through the air, firm and resolute. "We're running out of time, but we don't back down. Tighten your defense, trust the plays. Y/n, lead the charge. We're not letting them dictate this game."

Fueled by Natasha's unwavering belief you rallied the team. The court became a battleground, each possession a testament to their resilience. Natasha, though stoic, radiated a fierce determination that reverberated through the team.

In the closing minutes, you orchestrated a series of plays that saw the scoreboard narrowing the gap. Natasha, on the sidelines, displayed a subtle shift in demeanor – a mixture of anticipation and confidence. With seconds ticking away, you seized the moment, sinking a game-changing shot that tied the score.

The crowd erupted, and Natasha, unable to contain her pride, allowed a rare smile to grace her features. The final buzzer echoed, signaling a dramatic turnaround. As the team celebrated their hard-fought victory.

———

Natasha approached you with a subtle yet undeniable glint in her eyes, a mix of pride and something more enigmatic. The post-game euphoria lingered in the air, creating a charged atmosphere between coach and player.

"Y/n, that was an exceptional performance out there," Natasha commended, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "You truly stepped up when the team needed it the most."

Natasha's hand brushed against your shoulder, a subtle yet deliberate touch that sent shivers down your spine. With a glance towards her office, Natasha extended an invitation. "Why don't we discuss the game in more detail?“ You were too naive to understand her real intuition, so you just agreed. She is your coach after all, so what could go wrong?

As the two of you enter her office, Natasha walks ahead and you close the door behind you. She leaned against her desk, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that surpassed the boundaries of a post-game analysis. The subtle hum of the air conditioner was drowned out by the unspoken tension between coach and player.

"Y/n," Natasha began, her voice a low murmur that seemed to draw you closer. "There's something about you on the court... a fire that's not easily extinguished. It's intriguing."

You, still caught in the afterglow of the victory, met Natasha's gaze with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. "Thank you, Coach. I just did what I thought was best for the team."

Natasha circled the desk, closing the distance between you both. "You did more than that. You showed a level of skill and determination that goes beyond the court. It’s rare."

The air in the room thickened as Natasha's fingers lightly traced the neckline of your jersey, a subtle yet deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine. Your heartbeat quickened, the unspoken tension taking a more palpable form.

"I see potential in you, not just as a player," Natasha whispered, her lips mere inches from your ear. "But as someone who understands the game beyond its rules."

Caught in the magnetic pull of Natasha's presence, you felt a swirl of emotions. Confusion, anticipation, and a hint of something more. Natasha's gaze bore into you, a silent invitation that transcended the boundaries of a typical coach-player relationship.

"C-Coach Romanoff," You began, the words catching in your throat as Natasha's proximity became more pronounced. "I'm not sure I understand..."

Natasha silenced you with a finger against your lips, her eyes locking onto theirs with a smoldering intensity. "Sometimes, Y/n, the best plays happen off the court," she murmured, her voice carrying a seductive undertone. "Let me show you a different kind of victory."

You look up at her innocently and she leans down to kiss you. As she continued, you felt her hand slide down to your pussy. She runs her hand over your panties and rubs her fingers further inside. She held onto your shoulders a little with her other hand so that you wouldn't squirm too much. “M-Mrs Romanoff, I don't think we-”

She continued until she could feel your wetness through your underwear, "It's pretty wet down here.." she whispers in your ear and now starts to knead your breast. She grabbed your nipple and twisted it between her fingers, her head still in your neck “Should I stop?” The action was already sending waves through your body and your body twitched, “I..D-Don’t know...." she twisted them more, "Do you want it or not? You decide.“

Her movements ran through your whole body. Even your fingers were starting to cramp, “Comon, Detka, Say 'please don’t stop'..” She let go of your nipple, but now pushed it into your breast and you twitched again. “p-please don’t stop! Do not stop.."

This turned Natasha more on. You give your complete control only to her. She smelled your neck and licked it, “Say 'I want you’. ” Your head was so covered that you didn't even know what you were actually saying, “I-I want you..”

Now she let go of you completely and you staggered briefly to find your feet and stand again. She took a step back and took off her leather jacket, “Good girl.”

She walks you back and pushes you against her desk. She holds your waist, lifts you up and sits you on her table. She stands between your legs and her hands caress your soft thighs.

She kisses you again, moving her hands further up. She grabs your ass, pulls you a little closer and lets her cock rub against you. You moan into her mouth and pull away. You put your hands behind you and brace yourself on her desk. She continues to rub herself against you, her eyes scanning your body. She moans and pulls away, quickly pulling your panties to the side. She kisses you as she slides her finger into your pussy.

Your eyes close as she begins to slowly pump her fingers in and out of you. You gasp as she curled a finger inside you. But then she lifts you off her desk, turns you around, and presses your chest flat against the desk. She spreads your legs, bends down and presses her chest onto your back.

There was a slight rustle as Natasha opened a packet of condoms and slipped it over her member and then she pressed herself against you, cursing and cursing under her breath. You let out a breathy moan at the penetration, pushing yourself back onto hers. "God, you're so tight..." Natasha hissed as she was fully inside your vagina.

She didn't start gently and wait for you to get used to it, she immediately started hitting you roughly. Within moments you were moaning and panting wantonly, your body almost melting into the table. “Mrs R-Romanoff!”

She moaned in agreement, your knuckles already white from gripping the edge of the desk so tightly. Natasha began rocking you, first with small, hard thrusts, then longer and deeper. She changed positions a few times until she managed to hit your perfect spot, causing stars to appear in your vision.

The desk creaked and rocked under the force of her thrusts, and you were sure someone could probably hear the rhythmic tapping of the desk, but that only added to the whole excitement. “That’s it, make some pretty noises for me.” The dark sound of her voice echoed through your body, sending your racing brain into hyperdrive.

Every time her hips slammed into you, you felt white, hot ecstasy pouring from your core and coursing through your entire being. You couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers that fell from your lips, no matter how much you wanted them to.

“Such a good fuck toy,” she purred, burying a hand in your hair and tugging painfully. “Taking my cock so good.” Suddenly and violently, she jerked your head up so that her lips touched your ear. "Since you've had so much practice lately, I’ll give you a little reward.”

You arch your back and scream, "F-Fuck!" felt a lot of joy and couldn't hold back your salivation any longer. She stares contentedly at your drooling face, knowing that she is the only one who has the privilege of fucking you senseless. “Fuck yes, baby, cum for me. Cum on that damn cock!” she grits her teeth as she penetrates you. She feels your tight little hole begin to twitch around her and doesn't let up, feeling you buck your hips against her. “I think I c-can’t, I can’t...”

“Yes you fucking can, baby, let go..Lose control for me..” She pumps into you faster, getting dangerously closer to her own release. “You can do it, baby, just fucking let go!”She throws her head back and rubs circles on your clit with her thumb as she relentlessly drills your pussy. “Fuck yes!!”

“I-I’m coming-“She grabbed your neck and pulled your face towards hers. She brutally claims your pretty little mouth, swallowing your screams as you cum hard on her cock.

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#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

[nonasuch]

Did you ever write more to the "vader finds out that leia I'd his daughter" story?

No but it’s been percolating in my head for a while so let’s go

(continuing from this)

The first thing Vader does is cover his tracks. Wipes the security cameras for the whole cell block, wipes the prisoner logs, makes sure that no trace of Leia’s capture or escape will be in the files synced daily with Imperial Center. Puts in transfer orders for that nervous junior officer to somewhere very far away and very quiet. Saves only one short vid clip, to the secret hard drive hidden in his own respirator.

I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.

While he’s doing this, his children (children! plural!) are getting themselves into trouble, and out again. Apparently the trash compactor was involved. He will have more footage to scrub. Somehow they��ve acquired a Wookie.

Kenobi is with them.

Vader should have foreseen this. Of course, Kenobi.

His presence saturates the Force, nearly drowning out Luke— and Leia, too, now that Vader knows to look. It’s enough to break Vader free from the chill of shock, his rightful fury seen as through a window right up until it shatters, and engulfs him again.

But he forces it back. He wants answers, before he kills Kenobi.

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

He hasn’t played the clip again, but it echoes in his ears nonetheless.

When he faces Kenobi, Vader is still off-balance. Kenobi seems as calm, as unruffled as he ever did, though he’s far too obvious in buying time for Leia and Luke to attempt an escape.

Vader asks him: “Do they know?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Kenobi says, light and unconvincing.

“You kept them from me,” Vader says, and that is a thought that feeds the Dark, that lets him hammer at Kenobi’s saber until he’s nearly past his guard—

“I kept them from your master,” Kenobi says, his voice still even and pleasant and false, hardly betraying his exertion.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Vader vows.

“I expect so,” says Kenobi. “I swore I’d die before I let Palpatine harm another child in my care. If dying will keep them from him, it’s well worth the cost.”

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

By the end of this speech Kenobi recovers a little of his old skill, turning Vader’s blows aside instead of merely bearing up under their weight. Too soon, Vader falters, losing the momentum of rage. They both fall back to defensive positions. Any living troopers have long since cleared the area; the whole deck is a ruin of saber gouges and shattered armor.

Vader rarely speaks without thinking. The nature of his breathing apparatus makes this a necessity, more often than not. But the words escape him anyway.

“Who named them?”

And now Kenobi is the one who falters. It is satisfying, if short-lived. “Their mother,” he says. “With her last breaths.”

A long time ago — a lifetime away — there was a list of names. Two lists, really, to start with, and then another of the names held in common to both. No record of it survives, not even on the hard drive hidden next to Vader’s heart.

On Naboo, children are often named for virtues. A child might be called Aluuk, for kindness, or Alié, for wisdom.

On Tatooine, a child’s name is the parent’s hope for its future. Perhaps Lukka would grow to be free; perhaps Leyah would grow to be fierce.

And perhaps they have. Vader does not know. Kenobi took that from him.

Vader won’t kill him yet, though. He still has questions.

#asked and answered #star wars #i wrote a thing

[cweampier]

in honor of your bio i think it would be fitting to write a blurb about riding leon 🧍‍♀️

i hope you enjoy!!!!! he makes me crazy… re2 leon is in mind lolllll he has a mouth on him! vv cute ><

the sounds of skin slapping together could be heard throughout the apartment as leon panted against the lobe of your ear, breath hot as it fanned into your neck. he had a firm grip on your hip, offering stability and the other had a complete handful of your ass, guiding you to somehow fuck onto him harder. “hmm baby.. fuck me, just like that.. fucking … ride my cock..” he choked between sharp breaths, his adam’s apple bobbing underneath the tender flesh of his throat as he cranked his neck back into the couch’s cushion.

he went all cross eyed on you for a brief moment before coming back to earth. your hands were trembling as you pressed them onto his bare chest that was sheen with sweat to steady yourself, eagerly bouncing atop him as he bucked up into you with perfect momentum. he whined, clammy hands finding the small of your back, gently pushing you to crash onto his chest as he took your hips into his hands, opting to assist you.

“this.. fuckin’ pussy, baby.. haa.. excuse my vulgarity but.. fuck..” he cursed, rutting up into you as you dug your nails into his back. he forced your hips up before slamming them down, flushed against his own, spearing you back down onto his dick. “as soon.. as i walked into that door i wanted to be inside you, baby.. thank you..” he spoke up, tone laced with desperation as if he wasn’t the one jouncing your hips back onto his. he chuckled as your pussy grew messy, a white ring forming around the base of his cock as you mewled out meekly, tongue lulling out of your mouth.

“stay with me, pretty.. at least till i fucking fill this pussy..” he said dryly, continuing his ministrations. “mhm.. hmm, feel m’up, lee.. wan’ it..” you hollered dumbly, your cunt practically vise around his cock as he abused that same spongy spot inside you that made your eyes fog up, opaque with sheer ecstasy. he nodded profusely, hair sticking to his forehead messily as he felt himself nearing the homestretch. “noisy..” he muttered, alluding to your sloppy little pussy as it struggled to stretch around him despite taking each inch with fever. “‘s cute.. so so cute baby, fuck!” he heaved as he came deep inside you while you were stuck there with the sensation of it flooding out of you.

you panted, burying your face into the crook of his neck, assessing to your senses. leon’s chest rose and fell madly beneath you as he kept a firm hold on your waist. he stroked your hair, tucking it behind your ear before offering you a crooked smile. “there she is.. how’s my girl? you alright? didn’t expect to execute it that way,” he took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, “not that i’m complaining.” he sat there admiring his work, his work being your completely dazed expression. he pressed a feeble kiss to your forehead, hugging you close.

“such a good girl f’me.. can you give me another, mm?” he cooed softly into your ear, oh leon, how needy he could be at times.

#bread crumbs for the whores of this page #(i love you) #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil 2 #cweampier

[writerscall]

i don’t have any specifics but i’d love to see you do a jealous hazel :>

author’s note/s: 873 words. this embarrassingly took me a while to finish but in my defense, i’ve been in a real slump for writing. but this definitely got the momentum back a bit! enjoy hazel not exactly enjoying when someone thinks you’re pretty the same way she thinks you’re pretty.

In spite of the collective fear that the fight club might disband after the game, either by school orders or with all of you growing apart with more and more schoolmates wanting to be friends, it stayed intact. Surprisingly no new recruits, but that was probably why the bond of the club was stronger than ever. You were all there from day one and you all knew everyone still wanted to be there, even if getting punched in the jaw or kicked in the shin still hurt like a bitch.

It meant continuing to have Hazel as an everyday fixture in your life, though, and you weren’t going to complain about that. Or about any of the new friendships you’ve created, of course — especially Stella-Rebecca, whose realization and acceptance that she’s actually a lesbian was a very entertaining sight to see.

“I feel no different, but I also feel like I should be doing something to be more out, you know?” She asks you one day as you’re washing your faces in the locker room after practice. “Like, maybe not go around wearing a t-shirt that says ‘lesbian,’ or ‘i love girls’ or something, but like… should I go shop for a cute flannel later?”

There’s a chorus of no, don’t do that among the burst of laughter, and you hope the look you’re giving her looks more sympathetic than amused. “Lesbians come in all kinds of outfits, Stella-Rebecca. Don’t worry about it.”

“Or, you know, in no outfit at all, I won’t mind,” PJ quips with a shit-eating grin. Josie audibly groans and promptly drags her out of the locker room.

“A top that says ‘i love girls’ would be pretty cute, though. I’d wear one,” you tell her. Hazel comes into view at that same moment, smiling at you knowingly through the reflection in the mirror. Your heart flutters as you smile back. It was no secret that you and Hazel have been participating in a will-they-won’t-they dance for a while now. Everyone — or at least everyone in the fight club — knew about it.

Which was why you found Stella-Rebecca’s next words so surprising.

“Maybe we can go look for one together. I think you’d look real cute in one, too.” She winks at you as she squeezes your shoulder, then says her goodbyes as she sashays away. Huh. You can’t help but smile to yourself in amusement, though it’s immediately wiped off when you notice Hazel staring (rather, glaring) after Stella-Rebecca’s retreating figure.

You turn away from the mirror, saying, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.”

“You know she’s flirting with you, right?” Hazel grumbles. “While I’m right here. Literally just right here, and then she still goes and does all that. She knows!”

“It’s not… she probably didn’t even mean it like that. Stella-Rebecca’s just very touchy and sweet—”

“I think I’m sweet to my friends too but I don’t go after people who are obviously accounted for.”

Okay, this was serious to her. Not that you had any intention of shrugging it off and letting Stella-Rebecca continue to flirt with you, if she would; you just didn’t think Hazel would take it so personally. She’s known the girl longer than you have and has definitely seen her flirt with other people before to know the difference between her being playful and actually being into it.

Then again, until recently, Stella-Rebecca was only coming on to boys.

You walk towards her, fighting the growing smile on your face as you take her own in your hands. “Your pout is really cute but there’s no need for it. I could go out with Stella-Rebecca after school every day of this week, even spend the whole weekend with her, and I’d still be ‘accounted for.’” Your nose wrinkles a bit at the last part. Hazel could either say the most random things or be strangely articulate.

She sighs, head tilting to the right in your hold. “Am I a horrible person for not liking the idea of you spending so much time with each other? I know you’re friends, we all are, but… I don’t know…”

“No,” you breathe out, rubbing your right thumb across her slightly smushed cheek. “It’s a hypothetical situation, anyway. The most she’ll get of me is one day because we’ve got a bunch of after school dates lined up, remember? We’ve got all those Lego plants to build.”

“The new additions to my botanical collection,” Hazel says, her mood noticeably picking back up. You give her face a gentle squeeze before wrapping your arms around her shoulders instead. Her arms wrap around your waist not a second later. “Yeah, the succulents came in yesterday. I think you’ll really like them.”

You smile at her. “You know I will.”

The feeling of her relaxing in your arms makes you relax too, although she’s still got that look on her face. Well, a different one now; like she was battling between saying something or shoving it down.

“What—”

“You and Stella-Rebecca can get matching ‘i like girls’ shirts, but only if we get matching ‘girlfriends’ ones.”

Oh. Not in a bad way, but still… oh.

There’s a part of you that’s thinking, already? but you’re a little too giddy about her clarifying what she wants — and it being exactly what you want too — to do anything but nod and beam at her. “Whatever you want, Hazel.”

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #requests

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Roadside Assistance

Summary: When you breakdown on the side of the road and only one pilot seems to answer the phone.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Some minor swear words, lots of fluff ahead.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: So sorry I’ve been MIA. But tomorrow is my birthday and I thought I would all gift you with one of my WIP’s! Hoping to be writing again more regularly! As always, my inbox is open for you. Thanks for reading!!

Your car made a noise you didn’t even know was possible to make. While that might have seemed a tad concerning, you didn’t give it much thought as your car still drove fine. Yeah, there might have been a few lights on the dashboard, but you viewed them more as suggestions to do something later.

You happily continued towards your destination, singing along to a song on the radio, when your car decided to stop working. The entire machine seemed to shut off, causing panic to rise up. It was kind enough to at least give you enough momentum to pull off to the side of the road.

A few choice words spilled out of your mouth as you tried and failed to restart your car. You looked up and saw you were in the middle of nowhere, stranded midday in the California heat.

A sensible thing would have been to call a tow truck, but something about being stuck in a vehicle with a stranger didn’t sit right with you. So, you did the next best thing and started calling your teammates to see if one of them would be kind enough to come and save you.

You started with Rooster and prayed your mustached friend was by his phone. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as you were met with his voicemail. The same went for nearly every other person on your team until you were left with one number.

You couldn’t exactly fault them. It was the team’s one Saturday off and everyone was taking advantage of it. Something you were in the middle of doing until your car decided it wanted to be dramatic today.

The thought to take your chances with a tow truck came back up as you debated on calling the last number. Even if he did answer, you know you would never hear the end of it.

Who knew how close the nearest shop was and thinking about either trying to make small talk with a stranger or being stuck in an awkward silence, sent shivers down your spine. So, you dialed the number and prayed he wasn’t in his normal, annoying mood.

“Seresin.” He answered on the second ring, catching you completely off guard at the quickness of it.

“Umm, hi. Yeah, it’s me. Look I wouldn’t be calling unless it was a near emergency, and it seems like no one has a phone today. But I’m stuck on the side of the road and need someone to come get me.” You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you quickly explained what was going on.

“Side of the road? Are you okay? What happened?” The urgency in his voice made you freeze. Hangman didn’t care about anything but the brand of hair gel he uses. Which led to you asking, “Are you drunk?”

An exasperated sigh was your answer. “No, Y/N. I’m as sober as a judge. No can you tell me what’s going on?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the saying but answered him anyway. “My car broke down on the way to this beach and it won’t start.”

There was a long pause, “And you called me?” You threw your hands up in the air, knowing he couldn’t see your reaction.

“As I previously stated, no one else answered. I also don’t want to call a tow truck for personal reasons. Can you help or do I need to start walking?” You tried not to sound irritated at him, but the heat was starting to get to you.

“Yeah, not a problem. Send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are your hazard lights on?” You looked down at your car and started trying to find them.

“Uh, yeah.” You didn’t miss the chuckle on the other end of the line, letting you know he caught your lie.

“I’ll be there shortly. Don’t get out of your car until I get there.” You gave him a hum in response and hung up. After a few more minutes of searching, you held your fist up in victory as you found your hazard lights.

It didn’t take too long for your teammate to pull up behind you and you hoped that whatever the problem was, he could fix it quickly. You got out of your car to greet him, and he took his aviators off and looked you over, making sure you were still in one piece.

“You good?” There he went again, asking about your well-being. The jet fumes must be getting to him.

“Yeah, just hot.” You looked away before you saw his smirk at your response

He walked over and reached inside your car to pop the hood. “What happened before it died?”

You thought about imitating the noise it made but thought better of it. Lord knows you would only sound like a dying animal. “It made a weird sound and the died a few minutes after.”

He didn’t ask any other questions until he bent over the front of your car. “When was your last oil change?”

You went to answer him, but he took off his shirt, successfully distracting you for the moment. All the guys in the Navy were in shape, but Jake seemed like he was sculpted from the Gods.

A snapping of fingers brought you out of your daze. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You shook your head at your obvious misstep in stroking his ego. And his ever-present smirk was the cherry on top.

“I can’t remember. Maybe before my last deployment.” Your eyes followed him as he bent back over, using his shirt to unscrew something. You didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the movements or the sweat slowly dripping down his back. It was hot outside, but not lord not this hot.

You had to physically turn around to stop ogling the man before he caught you again. Hangman didn’t need to know you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, just like every other girl in this world.

He pulled his head out from under the hood and smirked at you. “You don’t know a single thing about cars, do you?”

Although his looks might have nice on the eyes, it was comments like that that pulled you back to reality. “I’m a pilot. I don’t need to know about cars.” Your answer seemed to amuse him more as he shook his head and chuckled.

You thought about your decision to not call the tow truck and mentally slapped yourself. “I don’t see how my lack of knowledge is funny.”

He wiped his hands off on his shirt and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just funny that one of the best pilots in the US can work on an F-18 like it’s nothing, but a simple car engine is out of your depths.”

When he said it out loud you knew it sounded bad. “I’m sorry I’m your typical girl and don’t care about cars.”

He shut the hood of your car and stepped towards you, “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you. But you are far from your typical girl. As for your car, it’s gonna cost you.”

You looked over at the dead piece of scrap metal and asked, “What will? The car or you?”

That question had him throwing his head back and laughing. “As much as I would love to cash in whatever your mind went to, I meant the car. The transmission is blown.”

A person didn’t have to know much about cars to know that a blown transmission was a near death sentence for both your bank account and the car itself. You didn’t know if it was the heat or the situation itself, but you could feel your anger start to bubble to the surface.

Jake must have seen it too and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, no need to worry. We will get the car towed and I know a guy in the area that can give you a good deal. It’ll be fixed by the end of this mission. Sound okay?”

You nodded your head and let him lead you to his truck. He turned on the A/C and told you to sit tight. The cool air on your face had never in your life felt as good as it did in this moment. He walked back out to your car, and you leaned your head back on the seat and closed your eyes. The one Saturday you have off and it’s spent on the side of the damn road.

A noise had you opening your eyes and you saw the dreaded tow truck start loading your car up. You made a move to get out, but Jake held a hand up telling you to stay in the car. You don’t thank this man for much, but in this moment, he was your god damn savoir.

Before too long, Jake got back in the truck and started driving like he didn’t just send your car off to be slaughtered. Before you could dwell too much on that, you realized the two of you were headed the opposite way of the base.

“Where are we going?”

“Well Darlin’, seeming that neither of us got to spend this day like we originally planned, I figured I’d go buy you a drink.” He was casually holding the steering wheel with one hand while the other rested on the center console. Not looking like he had a care in the world.

“You want to buy me a drink? Me?” You thought about the way you treated him at base and couldn’t fathom why he of all people would go out of their way to buy you a drink. He always acted like he was better than everyone else and you were the constant reminder that he wasn’t.

“Why do you find that so hard to believe? Can’t I take a pretty girl like yourself out?” He tossed you a Hollywood smile. One that got every single girl he talked to, to drop their pants for him. Which is why you said what you did next.

“Yeah, I’m not doing this. Pull over so I can get out and walk.” You took off your seatbelt, just for him to reach over and buckle you back in.

“That. That right there is why I want to take you out. You are the one girl who I know won’t take anyone’s shit. Do you know how hard I’ve tried to get you to even think about spending a minute with me outside of work? Hell, I’ve never in my life tried so hard for a girl to notice me. It took you breaking down on the side of the road with zero other options but for you to call me. So yes, sweetheart. I’m going to take advantage of you being hostage in my truck and buy you a drink.”

You opened your mouth just to shut it, not knowing how to respond to that. Your mind was reeling, trying to put together pieces you didn’t know went to the same puzzle. Jake had been around you more recently, but you thought it had to do with him trying to beat you out of a spot for this mission. Not that he might actually have feelings for you.

Had you been this narrow minded the entire time?

“Still with me?” The southern drawl of a voice snapped you out of your downward spiral. You glanced over at him and saw he was studying your reaction. The casual demeanor was now gone as his fingers tapped along the steering wheel. Was the all mighty Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin nervous?

“Why not simply ask me out? Ever think of that option?” You watched in amusement as he turned to face the road again, clearly thinking over what you just said. Going from nervous to downright frustrated was two things you didn’t get to see from him often. And it sounded a little cruel, but you loved it.

“It was that easy? This whole time it was that easy?” He looked to you in what seemed like complete exasperation, and you nodded your head.

“With all the praise you gave me earlier about not being like every other girl, yeah it was that simple. I’m not as complicated as you make me out to be. Flowers would’ve been nice though.” You gave him a smirk, just like the one he tortured you with day in and day out.  

He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Well alright then. Y/N, would you do me the honors in letting me buy you a drink?”

You tried to hide the blush that crept up onto your face by turning to look out the window. “Seeing that you have already kidnapped me, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

His snort had you turning back around and smiling. “Thank you for helping me with my car. Who knows how long I would’ve been stranded on the side of the road.”

He grabbed your hand and squeezed, “No one else I would cancel plans for.”

You froze as you processed his words. “What do you mean by canceled?”

The smirk was back as he said, “I was headed out with Coyote and a few of the other guys. So, with us being gone this long I think it’s safe to assume they know what’s going on.”

You sank back into the seat and shook your head. “I take it back. I’ll walk home from here.”   

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you so so much for reading!!!

#jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #chelsea writes

[adorethedistance]

I Don’t Just Like You - Trevor Zegras x Hughes!Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, tension/fighting, jealousy, Dixie lmao

Words: 2161

Summary: Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.

A/n: Y'all I am so not doing well rn. I am processing a break up and questioning my social circle and im so lonely that I needed to write some angst to cope with it all. Hope yall like this one and maybe it'll get a smut part two depending on whether or not I can handle writing that rn lol. Enjoy!

Moose: call me ASAP

Me: sorry Luke. can’t rn

Moose: Awesome 😎

My hands quake with anxiety as I fiddle with the tarnished silver ring adorning my pointer finger. The moisture of my skin eases the movement of turning the ring around my finger. I hiss when the gemstone catches on the skin of my middle finger and immediately drop my hands. 

Currently, I’m staring down at the risky text I just sent Trevor. About an hour ago he had messaged me:

Trev: hey sorry can’t swing tn after all 

Trev: rain check?

My jaw tightens with contempt and I huff out a sigh as my bottom lip trembles. I feel pathetic for just how impacted I am by his every word. I angrily hit the digital keys of my phone’s keyboard as I type my reply.

Me: really? 

Me: again??

Trev: don’t be like that

I’m not the most confrontational person. On any given day some might say I’m the furthest thing from confrontational. To put it rather plainly, I just don’t like it. I hate the way I get anxiety butterflies in my stomach. I hate absorbing the emotions of the other person, especially when rejection is involved. I hate what projections I’m opening myself up to receiving from the other person. There are too many pitfalls and not enough landing pads. Which is why it’s so out of character for me to press him on this.

Me: like what Trev?

This is the third time in a row Trevor has cancelled plans on me. I don’t know if he’s aware of that. I don’t even know what he’s been up to lately. He’s refused to tell me what he’s been doing instead, which didn’t raise my suspicions by any means until mom sent me an article. She knows about how my crush on Trevor has had roots in our childhoods. 

Trev: you know what I’m talking about

After I stopped playing hockey with my brothers, I was still always around to notice Trevor’s presence in our home. When I moved to California for college, I wanted to chase my music dreams but I didn’t realize it would come at the expense of my support system. Being long distance with my family put me in a hard spot, but having a familiar face to rely on made the adjustment easier. As we spent more time together independent of my brothers, Trevor and I became close friends. The problem was my crush has been growing ever since we became friends, hence why mom sent me an article called, “Did Dixie D’Amelio admit to dating Trevor Zegras?”.

Me: at least say it with your chest

Sent. Delivered. I wait. Trevor’s response bubble appears for a second. It disappears, then reappears, then disappears again. I’m about ready to toss my phone across the room when his message delivers.

Trev: call me

I groan out in frustration and this time actually end up chucking my phone onto my bed. I run my hands through my hair, along the warm expanse of my scalp. A self-soothing gesture by all means. I pace to one side of my room before using the momentum of my steps to start back towards my phone. Just as I have it in my hand, Trevor’s contact picture covers the screen and illuminates in my grasp. I scoff out a sort of half groan and then answer.

“What, Trevor?”

“Hey, Y/n I’m great. Thanks for asking! How are you?” He responds sardonically to my cold greeting. I bite my tongue, torn between tearing into him and the stronger desire to laugh through my rage. He takes my exhale as a cue to continue. “What’s going on, Hughesy?”

In a single moment, my anger dissolves. The tenderness of that nickname, which was once reserved solely for my brothers, now belongs to me. In this moment, I find myself thinking about how grateful I am that Trevor was there for me as I transitioned into college. But the looming threat of a smile quickly vanishes as I remember how that care is nullified by Trevor’s abundantly active dating life.

“Y/nnnn?” Trevor hums into the phone.

“What?” I respond dryly.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you cancelling on me for the third time in a row.”

“Is it really the third time in a row?” He asks under his breath, indicating he may not have intended to say it out loud at all. I roll my eyes, still actively fighting the urge to just lay into him.

“Yes, Trevor, it is!” I can practically hear him wince through the phone at the fact that I’m calling him Trevor instead of the default nickname permanently programmed into my phone. 

“Who’s that?” I hear softly over the phone. My heart flutters like a coal mine parakeet in a cage and I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry if it turns out Dixie is on the other side. Trevor whispers back,

“It’s Y/n.”

“Hey, Y/n!” Mason’s on the other end. 

“Not a good time,” Trevor tells him. Mason curses and then apologizes before retreating from Trevor’s general area. “Sorry, you were saying?” Trevor tells me at regular volume.

“You were cancelling on me again.”

“Oh. Right. I…” he switches the phone to the other ear, “I…don’t know what you want me to say.” Hello?! Could he be any more oblivious?!

“I want you to tell me what is going on!” I whine into the phone, “What is it you’re so busy with doing that you can’t see me for a week, huh? I get that you’re a professional athlete and you have a busy schedule. But I know your schedule and I know you still have a decent amount of free time. So what have you been doing?” Trevor breathes, in, then out and says,

“I’ve been seeing someone lately…” I feel my heart shatter into the tiniest fractals of what it once was and I cover my mouth to choke back the growing lump in my throat.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say with the utmost hurt lacing my voice, pulling the phone away from my ear to abruptly hang up on Trevor. I toss my phone on my bed once more, ignoring how the screen lights up with Trevor’s contact picture. It’s a new breed of psychological torture to sit here and ignore the calls, so I leave my phone in my bedroom as I go to splash cold water on my face. 

When I reenter my bedroom, I ignore the buzzing device to put on a comfortable pair of pajamas. He’s called once, twice, a fourth, and a fifth before finally giving up. Despite my phone being silent, I don’t trust it enough to take it with me and leave it to charge on my bed. I settle on the couch to open my new pint of Ben and Jerry’s, putting on my favorite show in the hopes of laughing through the pain. 

Somewhere between first and second episode, I had dozed off after returning the ice cream to the freezer. I’m not sure what it is about crying that knocks me on my ass like that, all I know is that it works. 

I’m abruptly pulled from my sleep when I hear the harsh banging on my front door. I jump up from the couch, the spike in adrenaline carrying me out of my sleepy haze. When I get to the front door, some of the tiredness catches up with me again and I groggily open the front door. Behind it stands Trevor, with sad puppy eyes and a sheepish expression. I can’t help the scowl that comes to rest on my face when I see him, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he pushes past me to come into the apartment and sits on the couch expectantly. Since there’s no way to physically remove him from my space, I bargain, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Trevor as I can manage. He doesn’t let the cold gesture phase him, and scooches obliviously into the center of the couch.

“What’s going on Hughsey?” I scoff at the nickname and Trevor cringes in frustration. “What is this?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Why are you icing me out all of a sudden?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, spiteful, with malice. 

“Clearly not since I’m here spending time with you.”

“Was that so hard for you to do? I mean, with your busy schedule and all?”

“What are you-” Trevor pauses for a split second. “Wait, are you… jealous? Y/n?”

I want to protest. I want to scream and rant and bite back, how he could be so conceited to think I’d be jealous of a relationship that I previously thought was rumored? But I can’t. 

Because he’s right.

I bite my tongue. There’s nothing else I can do. Not unless I want to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.

“Oh my god, that’s totally it. You’re jealous.” Trevor says, complete with a laugh and a sigh. The shame of actually being jealous of a girl I’ve never met, the disappointment of finding out Trevor is dating someone, and the exhaustion from already having cried earlier comes collapsing down on me at once. Hot tears well on the lining of my lashes and I stare at the ground, afraid to draw attention to myself. Upon seeing me cry, Trevor’s smile immediately vanishes and he scoots closer once more.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He envelops me in a hug that I’m too overwhelmed to reciprocate. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

I merely shake my head, unaware of what I could even say in this moment.

“I was… I was just laughing ‘cause I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what?”

“That you’d be jealous.” I wriggle out of the hug and look at Trevor sincerely.

“How would you have known?”

“You know, for as long as I can remember, your brothers have talked about you having a crush on me.” I cower in humiliation, my face glowing hotter than the surface of the sun.

“I wish they wouldn’t have.”

“No?” Trevor asks, genuinely.

“It’s embarrassing,” I confess, fully recoiling from the physical contact he had initiated before. 

“It’s cute.” Trevor earnestly admits as he takes my hand in his. I scoff instinctively but don’t pull my hand away again.

“I don’t need your pity, Trev.” I say so softly he nearly misses the sentiment. Once he processes my worlds, I feel him physically relax next to me at the sound of his familiar nickname.

“Well, what do you need? I’m here now.”

“I honestly don’t know.” I finally dare to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me so sweetly, earnestly. As if I hadn’t just chewed him out two minutes earlier. Then, I look away before I can say what I’m about to say next. “I don’t just like you.” Trevor’s face lifts ever so slightly. The extent of which, one might miss had they not known him a lifetime the way I have.

 “You know… the only reason I started seeing her was to get over you.”

“What?” I ask, sharply whipping my head to stare at Trevor, as if awaiting the reveal that this was just some elaborate prank from the start.

“Yeah. I started dating Dixie because I thought dating someone different would distract me. You know, it’s not a good look to have a crush on your best friend’s little sister.”

My heartrate picks up with his confession. This feels too good to be true. As if real life is waiting for us right outside the front door. The real life that doesn’t see me and Trevor together ever in our lifetimes. Terrified of the change that would occur from letting him walk away, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him passionately. Trevor wraps his hand around my wrist and kisses me back with twice as much fervor. 

We break apart, out of breath and full of smiles. Trevor looks at me for guidance and we fizzle into a nervous laughter. I reach up and brush my thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. He grabs my hand and turns his head, placing a sweet kiss on my palm. I then reach up and break the moment by ruffling my hand through his hair to mess it up.

“Hey!” He yells, grabbing waist to dig his hands into my sides. I screech with laughter as I try to escape. Trevor eventually yields and slips his hands from my sides to interlace with one another and pull me closer. I scoot in to sit against him, sitting half on top of him as our breathing falls in sync.

“I don’t just like you, too, Hughesy.” I smile.

“...You should probably call Dixie.”

“Oh shit.”

***

A/N: not my best work but not my worst either!

#Trevor Zegras #Trevor Zegras fanfiction #Trevor Zegras fanfic #Trevor Zegras fic #Trevor Zegras smut #Trevor Zegras fluff #Trevor Zegras angst #Trevor Zegras x reader #Trevor Zegras x y/n #Trevor Zegras imagine #Trevor Zegras one shot #Trevor Zegras oneshot #Trevor Zegras blurb #Trevor Zegras drabble #Trevor Zegras writing #NHL #NHL imagine #NHL fanfiction #NHL x reader #TZ 11 #TZ 46

[moonstruckme]

I absolutely love your writing!! Could I request some hurt/comfort poly!marauders? Like maybe people are judging/really rude to reader about their relationship and the boys defend her and their relationship and make her feel better 🥹

Absolutely you can! Hope this is what you were looking for babe <3

cw: bullying, sexual shaming

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“Whore,” Lucius hisses as he brushes past you in the hall. 

You hear James’ inhale beside you a second before you whirl. “What was that, Malfoy?”

“Too fucked out to hear me?” he sneers, coming to a stop and turning to face you. Your heart stutters at his words, but you’re careful not to let anything show on your face. “Don’t suppose you’re good for much except sucking dick, but I have to say, I’m impressed those Gryffindors caught onto it before the rest of us. I mean, why else would they bring you in on their precious trio?” His lip curls, and while there’s amusement there, there’s also genuine disgust that makes some small, pathetic part of you shrivel up in shame. “Slut.” 

“Sweetheart?” James asks, and you wonder if the restraint in his voice is as obvious to everyone else as it is to you. Want me to step in here?

You shake your head at him, but your stare is zeroed in on Lucius. You pout at him sympathetically. “I know it must be hard for you to understand. How’d I get three hot people interested in me, when you can't even get one to look your way?” You shoot him your best impression of Sirius’ wolfish grin. “Don’t worry, Malfoy, someone will come along who’s into all your inbred, Nazi bullshit one day. Maybe even a cousin, if you’re lucky!”

You continue back on your way, pretending you don’t need the steadying hand James rests at the small of your back as you stride down the hall. You make it through the common room, up the stairs, and into the boys’ dorm room before you lose momentum, releasing a shell-shocked, tremulous breath. 

James’ arms are around you in an instant, though it takes you a second longer to melt into his embrace. 

“Are you okay? You seemed like you wanted to handle it yourself, but I wasn’t sure.” 

You take a deep breath. “No, you were right. Thanks, Jamie. It just would have made it worse if it looked like I couldn’t defend myself.” 

There’s a shuffling of sheets, and you turn your head to find you’d been so distracted you hadn’t noticed Remus on his bed, studying. He sits up to look at the pair of you with concerned amber eyes, a question evident in his face. 

James saves you from responding, clutching you tighter and pressing a kiss to your head. “Had a run-in with Malfoy.” 

Remus sighs, the sound knowing. “That’s never good, is it?” His gaze falls squarely on you. “You alright, lovely?” 

You nod automatically, though your hands are trembling slightly. You’ve never been good at conflict, but pricks like Malfoy sometimes require you to rise to the occasion. It bothers you that someone like him, whom you don’t respect and whose opinion you couldn’t value less, can still rattle you like this. You know your relationship is unconventional, but it’s good. You haven’t been dating for very long, but you feel the rightness of it every day. Your boyfriends treat you better than anyone can reasonably deserve. You love them. Still…

“Do you think that’s what everyone thinks?” You extricate yourself from James, trying not to sound as pathetic as you feel. At Remus’ bemused expression, you add, “That you guys are only dating me because I put out, I mean.” 

James looks horrified. “Do you think that?”

“No,” you say, apparently too quickly, because neither boy looks like they believe you. “I don’t. I just…I don’t know, it’s stupid to care what people think, right?”

James bites his lip, and Remus looks at you consideringly. “I wouldn’t call it stupid,” he says after a moment. “It may not be the best guiding principle to always do what people want you to, but they’re not usually easy to ignore either.”

You heave a sigh, collapsing onto Sirius’ empty bed. “Exactly. I don’t want everyone calling me a slut all the time now.” 

Remus’ eyebrows shoot up. “What exactly did Malfoy say to you?”

You hesitate, looking to James in the hopes he’ll answer for you again, but before either of you can say anything, Sirius whooshes in the door. 

He completely fails to read the room, all bright eyes and good spirits as he struts over to his bed and leans down over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I just heard about your Malfoy kerfuffle from Marlene,” he says, kissing you with a smack. “That’s my girl.” 

You can’t help but smile a little, his energy infectious. James gets in on the action too, patting your cheek as he sits down beside the two of you. “She was pretty amazing,” he says. “I thought Malfoy was going to shit the stick right out of his ass.” 

“Alright,” Remus says, the tiniest hint of impatience in his tone, “apparently I need to be caught up. What happened?”

“Our sweet angel said that Malfoy gets no bitches,” Sirius proclaimed proudly. “And then she told him to fuck one of his cousins.” 

“Well,” you say sheepishly, sitting up, “that’s not exactly word-for-word.” 

Remus quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling. “No? Give me the summary, then.”

“Basically, Malfoy said you guys only brought me in on your relationship because I put out, and uh, something about me only being good for sucking dick,” you say hesitantly, as if every word he uttered isn’t going to be seared into your memory forever. “So then I said he was jealous that I got three people to like me while he has no one, but…um, I did say something like maybe if he was lucky, he’d find a cousin that was into him.” 

All three of the boys are grinning at you, and Sirius plants another smacker on your cheek. 

“Attagirl,” Remus says, nodding approvingly. 

“Thanks.” You hope your face isn’t as red as it feels. “I guess now, I’m just a little worried that Lucius was just the only one who would say something? Like, what if everyone else is thinking the same thing?”

“Sweetheart,” James says, reaching around you to rub your upper arm comfortingly, “anyone who’s spoken to you for, like, point five seconds is gonna know that’s not true.” 

“Wait.” Sirius shakes his head, working to catch up to the conversation that started when he wasn’t in the room. “Are you really worried about what that prick said?”

You shrug, sheepish and a bit ashamed. “It’s not him, it’s more like…my classmates, and my professors. I wonder who agrees with him.” 

“Baby, anyone who agrees with Lucius Malfoy is just placing themselves in the same camp of idiots he’s in,” Sirius insists. His tone is light, but his eyes lock in on yours, feeling out how serious you are about this. “Our relationship isn’t anybody’s business, but our friends already know how you are, and they’ll defend you to anyone who asks.”

Remus nods. “Agreed. If anyone wants to believe that sort of baseless, cruel gossip, they’re probably not the lot you want to be around anyways. Just like Malfoy, yeah? If you cared what he thought,” Remus pauses to raise a playful eyebrow at you, “you probably wouldn’t be suggesting he fuck his cousins.” 

You grin. “Please, like he needed my encouragement on that one. You’re right, though, thanks.” 

James squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t let him get in your head, sweetheart. Everyone who matters already knows he’s full of shit.” 

“Yeah, and you should’ve heard Marl boasting about you in the common room,” Sirius adds. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she buys your butterbeers next time we’re in Hogsmeade.” 

You laugh, but stop when Remus levels you with a serious look. “Anyone talks like that to you again, you come straight to us, understand?”

You nod, and Sirius drags you into his side, eager to lighten the mood again. “Yeah,” he declares, “if anyone’s calling you a slut, it needs to be consensual, and it ought to be me.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders angst #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader

[tunatoge]

pairing: s. gojo x reader | < previous part

a/n: this is for that one person that wanted reader teaching gojo how to bike—ty for this idea, this was a lotta fun to write! this might be a little ooc tho, sorry about that

gojo is capable of doing anything and everything except riding a bike.

he watches in acute envy as megumi bikes confident circles around you, smiling with windburned cheeks. gojo glowers next to tsumiki, begrudgingly biting into his double chocolate chip ice cream as tsumiki blissfully licks at her’s. he groans and knocks his head back on the park bench. for the past week, all megumi wanted to do was go to the park and bike with you. you’d even gone and spent a little bit of your sorcerer’s salary on your own bike so you could bike with him.

“your ice cream is melting,” tsumiki states as she looks at gojo, cocking her head to the side. “are you okay? normally you’d be done by now…” she turns back to her own ice cream cone, biting into the strawberry treat.

gojo looks over at tsumiki, his head lolling to the side as he continues to lean back, “do you wanna learn how to bike?” he asks, secretly hoping she says yes so he can ask you to teach her on megumi’s bike and potentially let him mess around on your new fancy bike.

tsumiki hums as she swings her legs back and forth, she nibbles into her chocolate waffle cone. “not really,” she says as she lets gojo reach over and wipe a smear of ice cream off of her cheek.

gojo sighs as he sits up straight, dropping his unfinished ice cream cone into the trashcan next to him. he stands up, telling tsumiki to stay put, and makes his way towards you and megumi. he ignores the other people around him on bikes, roller skates, and skateboards. instead, he tunnel-visions on you and megumi biking figure eights and laughing.

“hey,” he says as he stands in front of you, waiting for you to stop biking. megumi scowls at gojo’s presence, wanting to continuously bike with you.

you set your foot down, your new muted red bike tilting to the side. he watches as you lick your lips and admires how cute you look with your windblown hair and slightly teary eyes.

“hey, yourself,” you say with a grin. “i thought you and ‘miki got ice cream, what’s up?” you fully dismount your bike, dropping down the kickstand.

gojo could easily take your bike right now and run off with it, but he doesn’t; megumi would bike after him and easily match his speed.

“could you teach me how to bike?” he mumbles so quietly you lean forward.

“what?”

gojo groans, rolling his eyes behind his glasses. you almost gasp at how pretty they are when the setting sun catches them. “can you teach me how to bike?” he asks clearly, waving towards your bike with his left hand. “i… want to be able to bike with you and megumi.”

your lips are slightly parted as you take in his words before you full on grin, “what happened to ‘biking is for country bumpkins’, satoru?” you tease as you turn around and attempt to adjust your bike seat for gojo’s tall frame. gojo huffs out a laugh, watching as you easily pull the seat to its highest setting and put the kickstand back up. you hum thoughtfully, “alright, get on!”

megumi watches with a grimace as gojo awkwardly gets on your bike. gojo is far too tall for your bike with his knees easily coming up into his torso. you stifle a laugh and position yourself behind gojo. megumi bikes away and back towards tsumiki, making sure to be wary of other children and adults. he and tsumiki watch as gojo awkwardly pedals on your bike, you closely following him with one hand situated on the back of the bike and one on his waist like you’d done for megumi.

“c’mon, satoru!” you say, still following him at an awkward pace as he bikes slowly, “go a little faster, you won’t have enough momentum to keep you up!”

gojo grimaces and fights back a stupid ‘that’s what she said’ joke as he picks up speed, pedaling even faster. the people around you take no notice of the two of you as you guys bike laps at a decent speed. once gojo is certain he’s got enough speed going and is confident biking with you holding him up, you let go and stand back as gojo bikes away from you. your lips press together in a tight line as you watch him bike around on a bike a little too small for him. a laugh slips past your lips when gojo freaks and bikes headfirst into a tree.

tsumiki grimaces as she watches gojo’s body fall over while megumi watches smugly, knowing it’ll take a while for you to get gojo back on the bike after he’d brutally injured his ego.

you bound over towards gojo as he gets up, you grin at his sour disposition. “that was good!” you say, laughing as you help him back on his feet.

he grumbles something under his breath before bending down and picking up your bike. there’s a small dent in the red metal but you don’t care.

“wanna go again?” you ask, leading gojo back onto the paved biking area. you watch as gojo nods and gets back on the bike, his knees still painfully pressing into his rib cage. you take a look around, noting that everyone else already went home. “this time, try not to hit a tree.”

“yeah, yeah, just get behind me and grab my hips or whatever,” gojo scoffs as heat rushes up his nape and into the tips of his ears. he jerks forward slightly when you take hold of his waist again, lightly squeezing in reassurance.

“alright, whenever you’re ready,” you tell him. immediately, he pedals forward and you easily run with him. excited, warm adrenaline runs through gojo’s veins as he bikes in the empty park. he doesn’t notice when you let go, easily biking around by himself.

“let go!” he says and he hears you laugh several feet behind him.

“i already did, satoru!” you call behind him and he grins as he turns around and sees you standing in the dimly lit park with your arms wrapped around your figure.

he looks back forward as megumi bikes up next to him, his little blue bike teetering from side to side as he works to catch up. he grins at the boy as he scoffs and bikes a little faster to get ahead of gojo.

“last one home is a rotten egg!” you call behind the two of them as they work to bike towards you and tsumiki. you’re standing in a t-shirt the same color as gojo’s eyes, your jacket pulled over tsumiki’s shoulders.

gojo turns to megumi with a boyish grin, “race ya’, megs!” he says teasingly as he stands up on his bike like how geto used to do when the three of you were younger, biking faster towards you and out of the park. his movement is a little shaky before he quickly settles into a safe, comfortable rhythm.

you laugh as he speeds past you in a blur, megumi hot on his tail. tsumiki giggles happily as she swings her arms back and forth as she walks with you in the direction of home.

#vians.scribbs #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff

[3drod]

Let's start 2024 with a bang! I wanted to share some of my achievable goals for 2024: - Get rolling on that Counter Isekai Corps webcomic (Lots of writing already done. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ - Animate a lot for practice & fun. - Set up and focus on a larger online store. 2023 was a break year for me. Both willing and unwilling. I had lots of highs but lots of lows (Like, real LOWS) I've taken baby steps to get better, & right now I feel pretty well. I hope I can continue this upward momentum into 2024. My hope is to focus mainly on CIC but I have another big project in the works. I'm very excited about it all Thanks for sticking with me! (o゜▽゜)o☆

#3drod #counter isekai corps #cic #WIP

[ayashitetsuko]

An open letter to David Jenkins

Some fans believe that we should not vent our anger and frustration to show creators. I don’t believe that. The thing about being a professional is that receiving criticism is part of your job—especially if you have done a terrible job.

OFMD went from groundbreaking to disappointing overnight.

There was a momentum to create a queer media that is smart, fun, sexy, and most importantly, respectful. In the way they are writing these queer characters. Especially older and disabled queer characters, a reflection of a generation of marginalised communities that have gone through so much. To give audience a glimpse of hope in their escapism.

But sir, you choose to Remus Lupin him instead.

This is not just about killing off a character. Hell, I might be willing to accept it. After all, I have read and even written fics with MCD in it—involving my favourite character.

But I want you to know that this is a special case. It is not just another popular character being killed off to drive plots.

I have issue with how you kill off a queer character that represents many marginalised communities in his arc.

Izzy is an abuse survivor who becomes disabled as a result of it. Izzy is a queer elder. Izzy is suicidal but manages to overcome it with the healing power of love and community.

Having him killed off just like that is a huge slap for fans who have gone through what he has gone through. Turns out, even in fiction, in our escapism, there is no joy. Only despair.

Also. Father figure? Where does that come from? Ed has never been shown to have any level of respect for Izzy. So let me ask you again. Where does “father figure” come from?

You have an opportunity to make a difference with OFMD; to be remembered in history for the right reasons. Yet somehow you choose not too. You choose to turn this into cheap, sensationalist entertainment where death and torture are thrown around for shock value.

It is like you have no idea how much power you have by being a professional storyteller.

Let me break it down to you. For you as a writer, perhaps killing off Izzy is nothing but an artistic choice. A plot point to figure out. But for audiences in marginalised groups, stories are mirrors. They see themselves in stories. That is how stories give them hope. This is why OFMD has never been “just a pirate story”. Perhaps this is hard to understand if you have never been part of an underrepresented community in the mainstream media, but this is how many are feeling about your work now. Your legacy.

OFMD has truly become an overnight failure. I don’t know how this happened. I would like to blame budget cuts, but your Vanity Fair interview makes me realise this is all deliberate choice.

So, what is next for us Canyonites?

If anything, this convinced me that queer and disabled people should write. And continue to write.

We can no longer trust major media to speak for us. We definitely can never trust David Jenkins again. Any form of progressiveness that he showed earlier was just coincidence, apparently. Even worse, it was fake.

As my friend Sam beautifully puts it, Izzy belongs to us now. We reclaim that character and give him all the happy endings he deserves in our fic, our art. We transform the works. We write about queer, disabled, suicidal characters the way the deserve to be written. If being a published writer is the path you choose, make sure you make wiser decisions than David Jenkins.

Thank you, sir. It was good while it lasts.

But this is a terrible job that you’re doing.

#izzy hands #ofmd s2 spoilers

[b1rds3ye]

Could you write a Ghost x gn!reader where reader is absolutely terrified of elevators?Doesn’t matter if it’s only going to the second floor, they’re on the verge of hyperventilating and tears the entire way and shoving themselves through the door once the gaps big enough. And Simon notices that reader gets closer to him when they’re in the elevator together and he maybe comforts them? 💙

No problem!! Thank you so much for supporting my fics, I hope this was to your satisfaction <333

Slow Ascent

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader (no physical descriptors)

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: 0.8k

Warning: Portrayal of a panic attack/phobias

With every inch the elevator doors closed, sealing your fate, you instinctively took steps back until you collided into Simon who stood in the centre of the space. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he lifts up his arm for you to snuggle into his side. His limb then secures itself around you, holding you in place as the elevator lifts from the ground floor.

As the elevator ascended it must’ve left your stomach back on the first floor, your insides churning. Fuck, you bit off more than you can chew. What were you meant to do? You didn’t want to be here. Metal slabs of wall were honing in on you, they were stretching taller, towering over you yet it was only getting more and more cramped. Lungs constricting, they squished against your heart. Every heartbeat was more overwhelming, each breath shallower than the last.

“Stay with me.”

Simon’s arm tightens around you. His other hand cradles the back of your head, gently letting you snuggle your face into his shoulder. If your tears wetting his shirt bothers him, he does not say. In fact, it seems he encourages it as he discreetly adjusts his torso for you to soak a new patch of fabric.

“Count to ten.”

It was a simple order, and yet you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. Instead your lips only quiver along with your entire body and Simon’s holding onto you even tighter.

“One,” he starts for you, starting the mission with a simple objective.

His hand presses you ever closer into him, grounding you to him. You willingly push into his form, a secure yet soft wall of muscle.

“Two,” he says in a soft coo. He’s angled his head to speak into your ear, dominating any sounds of turning gears or the creak of this tiny compartment further ascending.

“Three,” he says again. You let your eyes close, sharpening your senses on everything else about him. His familiar scent wafting and filling your mind. It’s comforting, it’s familiar, nothing like the sanitised metallic of the elevator.

“Four,” you whisper. It’s ragged, more air than an actual vocalisation. But it’s there. Eyes still closed, you can feel some of the tension leave Simon’s body. He tried to hide it but he must’ve been worried for you. Even as your heart pounds, there was still some energy for it to soar at his concern.

“Five.”

Your voice wavers with every hitch of your chest. You don’t feel in control of your body, you can’t stop the sobs from escaping you. Simon’s hand that rests at your side soothingly moves up and down. It applies a comforting pressure against every jerk of your body.

“Six.”

But behind every whimper and broken sound is an underlying strength. With every stroke of Simon’s hand against the back of your head. Every number has him responding with a proud hum or the occasional reassurance.

“Seven.”

Simon shifts and your hold on him instinctively tightens. It’s a little awkward with you in his arms, but you realise now he’s taking a step towards the front of the elevator, letting you get out as soon as possible. You comply, taking a single step with him.

“Eight.”

The elevator is starting to slow, the upwards momentum isn’t so disorienting. Each second has your feet feeling firmly planted onto the floor below, a reassuring weight that grows. Simon’s ministrations continue, the repetitive rubs of his calloused hands rage a war against the spontaneous hiccups of your body.

“Nine.”

Ding!

The elevator doors open and you burst out of Simon’s arms and into the hallway. You don’t even dare look back at that metal cage.

“Ten,” you gasp. Hands on your knees you hunch over, trying to catch your breath. A couple of late tears trail down the existing streaks on your cheek, collecting at your chin. They fall to the unmoving ground, you feel secure once again, standing still like you were meant to. A new wave of relieved tears was now coming.

You were okay.

“I’ve got you,” Simon states. Pushing off your knees you try to stand again, only to fall into his welcome arms once again. “You did good.”

“I don’t feel good, though,” you grumble and he lets out a loud exhale of sympathy. Pulling down his mask with a free hand, he presses a kiss against your sweating temple. When you look at him, the mask is already on again.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head at your gratitude.

“This was all you,” Simon reassures. You frown, wanting to retort but he shoots you a chastising yet earnest glare. This was your victory that he was adamant you have.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #/*avery checks the mailbox*/ #/*avery actually writes*/

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

----

As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

#vgperson

[fantastic-nonsense]

Hi! I've never done this before but I'm new to comics (started with WFA and Zatanna and the Ripper) and I've basically got most of my information from posts on tumblr and r/hobbydrama (including yours.) I think I have a general idea of what Jason Todd is like, but I believe a lot of people are unhappy with his new characterisation.

So, if you were the one in charge, how would you write him? Would you write him with a team or as a solo character? Would you have him use the All-Blades or a crowbar or his guns? Would you have him properly rejoin the batfam or not?

Thanks!

Hi! Welcome to the fandom! I hope you're enjoying your time here.

In general, I think DC (and the fandom) has spent too much time milking Jason's death for trauma porn. They have refused to allow him to find closure, move past that, and exist beyond his daddy issues drama with Bruce. When DC has allowed him to have stories outside of that, they were often written with little consideration for what should be done with Jason beyond making him "badass."

None of this has been conducive to creating any kind of satisfying and coherent narrative or character arc for Jason, especially when both writers and editorial seem more obsessed with stealing traits, relationships, and stories from other people to give to him (most prominently Dick, Selina, and Helena). My hottake is that DC should move beyond "Red Hood" as an identity for Jason entirely, because it drags his character down and keeps him inherently tied to the same problems that have kept his character stagnant for years.

However! I don't think he's unsalvagable. I simply think DC needs to put a decent writer on him and commit to a character direction for more than 2 years at a time. I'm unsure of what Shawn Martinbrough is currently doing with Jason in his The Hill arc, as I'm not reading it, but I've heard that there might be some forward momentum finally happening there?

Anyway, my personal conception of Jason's future (as lovingly brainstormed by me and my friends in our comics discord server) is effectively this: he becomes a street-level paranormal detective who solves cold murder cases by talking with the victims' ghosts and providing closure to restless spirits. Think Lockwood and Co. meets Pushing Daisies with a superhero twist; basically, a supernatural detective noir book.

There's a lot of concepts and lore drops tied into this idea, but basically it was born out of a discussion where I was talking about Jason's many connections with the supernatural and occult across all continuities and how it's kind of a mystery why DC hasn't just formally connected him to the mystical side of the DCU. So I was like "they should just reveal that Superboy-Prime’s reality punch resurrection left him LITERALLY undead, make the event where he finds this out also spark his ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and make him an occult detective. Let him close cold case murder files and put those spectres to rest."

Which is also a great premise for a Bat book and a great unfilled niche for a Batfamily member. Kate's supernatural stories are much more high concept and connected to her family drama. Damian's supernatural/occult connections are traditionally very heavily tied to his family history and the Lazarus Pits. Dick's semi-regular magic encounters are usually stuff he deals with alongside his teammates in the course of working with the Titans. None of the other Bats have enough regular encounters with the supernatural and magic side of the DCU for it to encroach on their shtick, and a Gotham-based supernatural book is well within DC's ability to publish and market given books like Gotham by Midnight.

In terms of how that direction affects all the other questions you asked...I think Jason's relationship with the rest of the Batfam should be complicated. I personally don't think "good/bad relationship with the Batfam" is a particularly useful way to look at it because I think there are people he should never see eye to eye with, people he realistically shouldn't and doesn't have a problem with, and people he should get along with just fine. I don't think everyone needs to or should be friends or enemies with him, but his morals and past actions will (and should!) complicate those relationships in interesting ways.

And re: what weapons I'd like to see him use...using the All-Blades would certainly factor into my proposed narrative direction, as that would lean into the supernatural connections, but I generally prefer the concept of Jason using knives as his preferred weapon over guns/a crowbar/etc. That way he can still be a marksman without using guns, and I think that fits more with his character trajectory as someone attempting to be less lethal but also has no problem roughing people up when he thinks they need to be.

#jason todd #jason todd meta #thank you! #also I'm so sorry for the delayed response. my mental capacity to respond to people has been pretty low recently 😭 #long post #ask #dc comics #batman #batfam

[sagesolsticewrites]

Hiya could you do Harry Crosby + “ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i'd say yes. “ “ what about today?” from one of your drabble prompt lists please and thanks 💛

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie! I’ve adored these Masters of the Air requests, especially getting to write for Harry my love!! Our favorite navigator 🥰

Quick warning that there is a nonzero chance of historical inaccuracies here, and the timeline may be a little off, but I did actual research for this one y’all! New additions to the ever-growing Useless Knowledge section of my brain: knowing where Lt. Harry Crosby studied for college (he was working on his graduate degree at the University of Iowa when the Pearl Harbor attack occurred; he went back to finish his degree there in 1947 and earned his PhD from Stanford University in 1953!), when and why he joined the Army Air Forces (paused his studies at U of I to enlist after Pearl Harbor), and where he was sent for his training (Mathers Field, California) before being stationed in Idaho, and eventually at East Anglia. Look at me go lol 🤪 Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

a/n: well, that’ll teach me not to try to format my fics on mobile 😂 I guess the Harry fic’s coming out today! Hope you like it Nonnie <3

Masterlist

Just Say Yes

You waited anxiously under the maple tree at the edge of the campus courtyard, fiddling with the worn, creased paper in your hands — Harry’s last letter, telling you that this next visit home would likely be his last before he was transferred to Idaho, and then to who knows where.

I’ll meet you under our tree, pretty girl, the letter had read, Saturday, our usual time?

The tree— the very maple tree you stood in the shade of now— was where you had met often when you were both students at the University of Iowa, studying English. The tradition had started when you were paired up for a project, and Harry asked if you would mind working outside.

“I think better in the fresh air,” he had said, almost apologetically, and you had agreed almost instantly, captivated by the quiet but clearly very smart boy who sat next to you in class.

Even after the project was over and graded, you continued to meet under that tree nearly every day at 2 o’clock after class to compare class notes or exchange feedback on essays.

And after nearly four months of meeting and working together, it was under that tree where Harry Crosby finally asked you out on a date.

Leaning back against the tree, you were jolted out of your trip down memory lane by a familiar voice calling your name.

Grinning, you turned to see Harry strolling towards you, dapper in his dress uniform, one arm raised in greeting, the other cradling a bouquet of tulips— your favorite.

You pushed off from the tree, unable to wait a single second longer, and sprinted to meet him, uncaring of the students staring at the crazy lady running across their campus.

He opened his arms as the distance between you lessened until you crashed into him, burying your head in his chest. He stumbled back a bit, absorbing your momentum, but he was quick to embrace you, quicker still to turn your momentum into a dizzying, joyous twirl, lifting your feet off the ground.

You let out a gleeful laugh as the world spun around you, and pulled him in for a long-overdue kiss once your feet were firmly back on the ground.

After the two of you reluctantly pulled apart, you cupped his face in your hands, drinking him in: lips stained red from your lipstick, hat knocked askew, uniform now more than a little wrinkled, and best of all, those warm brown eyes you had missed so much overflowing with love.

He looked as dapper as ever.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured with a smile, a greeting for your ears only.

It had been so long since you’d heard those words from his lips, and all you could do was blink back the tears that sprang to your eyes as you replied with a simple, tender “Hi.”

Understanding filled his eyes, and he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead and allowing you a moment to compose yourself before the two of you headed back towards your tree.

“Oh!” He said, holding the bouquet out to you as if he just now remembered he had it, “For you, m’lady.”

You took the bouquet, fingering the delicate pink and yellow petals. “They’re beautiful, Harry,” you smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said, gesturing for you to sit and make yourself comfortable first before he settled next to you in the shade.

“So,” he said, wrapping an arm around you, “Tell me everything. What have I missed? How’d that paper go that you were telling me about?”

You couldn’t help but light up at the mention of your latest paper— your pride and joy, your best work yet if you didn’t say so yourself— and at Harry’s encouraging smile, you rambled on about themes and motifs and parallels, Harry occasionally chiming in with a suggestion that made the connections you had made even clearer.

Despite the plethora of letters you had sent each other, each doing your best to keep the other updated, you and Harry never seemed to run out of things to talk about: the conversation flowed from your latest paper to how Harry had been giving the guys some book recommendations based on your suggestions, to the small bookshop you had taken to visiting, compiling a list of titles for him that you thought he’d enjoy. Harry mentioned that some of his comrades had set up a small library of sorts in the barracks, running on the honor system, but they’d likely need to shut it down soon, with people moving to their more permanent placements.

“Oh that reminds me,” Harry said, digging in his pocket for a moment before triumphantly revealing a scrap of paper with his distinctive scrawl.

“Plenty of the guys are getting letters from their wives and sweethearts,” he said, slipping you the small piece of paper with the address of his next assignment in Boise, “I wanna make sure I’m one of ‘em.”

“Getting letters from your wife, or your sweetheart?” You asked playfully, tucking the slip of paper safely in your pocket.

“Uh.. Well, I mean…” Harry stammered, trying very hard not to think about the small box in his pocket.

“Hey,” you pause to assure him, “I was just kidding.” Under the shade of your tree, you rested your head on his shoulder, looking out at the courtyard. “I know we’re a little young, but…” You took a deep breath, entwining your fingers with his, “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

You caught the barest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you glanced over to see a small box held out to you.

A box in Harry’s hand that was open to reveal a delicate gold ring.

“What about today?” Harry asked softly, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek.

“I— Harry—” You were speechless, your world zeroing in on that small gold band before realizing that you had been silent for far too long.

You nodded furiously, turning to kiss him before you could even get the words out.

“Is that a—”

Harry’s tentative question was cut short by your lips crashing onto his. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, kissing you back with equal fervor, the ring box left in your lap.

You both eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Harry’s forehead remained pressed to yours, chocolate brown eyes locked on you.

“Was that a yes?” He asked, lips still just barely brushing yours, and you could feel him trying not to smile.

You were an English major. There were a thousand words you could have said, a thousand speeches of acceptance and love and devotion you could have made.

Only one word mattered to you just then.

“Yes.”

#sage answers #my writing #harry crosby #lt harry crosby #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #harry crosby x reader #anthony boyle #anthony boyle harry crosby #anthony boyle lt harry crosby #anthony boyle x reader

[crescencestudio]

2023: A Year of Connection

Hi everyone!

As I told you last month, this month's "devlog" will be more like an end-of-year recap. For those of you who have known me a while, you'll know that I get ~in my feels~ and Very Nostalgic at the end of the year. And this year is no exception to that.

Looking back on this year, I realize I did much more than I thought I did. The year was filled with so many waves of uncertainty, burnout, and ruts, that I felt like I wasn't accomplishing anything in the moment. Now that the year has actually wrapped up, I can see that was Once Again my imposter syndrome whispering words of sweet nothings into my ears.

In fact, this year, I find that I did Way More than what I did last year. Crazy, considering how busy I remember 2022 being. Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

Writing

If there is one thing this bitch did, it's fucking write LFMASODIJ. For all my complaining this year of routes taking too long, getting creative ruts, etc., I still wrote (what I consider) a Very Good amount. While I may not have hit my writing goals that I had set out, I still ended up writing around 255k words in total this year. Most of this being for Alaris, and some of it being for my dissertation (LOL) and other side games, like Intertwine and Jam Games.

This number also doesn't include deleted passages, edited passages, etc., so the amount I've spent writing, reviewing, etc. was Significant this year. Here's to hoping that momentum continues into next year and finishing the rest of Alaris!

Side Games

Something completely unexpected, but that I'll forever be grateful for, was my decision(s) to join game jams this year. It all started with Otojam, a visual novel jam I'd wanted to join for a WHILE.

Intertwine was, without a doubt, one of my most memorable moments from this year. The friends I made/grew closer to during that jam. The people I connected with because of Intertwine. The people I got to work with. Everything about the experience surpassed my expectations, and Van and Summer 2023 will always hold a very special place in my heart because of it. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed that game. It was my first full game I ever released, and I couldn't have been more nervous about it (no literally. I wasn't sleeping and I was nauseous for a week before release).

Knowing there was no "revision" afterwards that I could hide behind or promise that there would be a "better"/"enhanced" version made the release terrifying. But the reception you all gave to it and support from so many friends made me feel so connected and grateful for the community.

The other three side projects were... well, Unexpected. LOL. Before these jams, I'd never wanted to work in team settings, mostly because I have Mad Imposter Syndrome, and I've always imagined I'd be dead weight in any given game dev team. My skills on writing, art, and/or coding alone aren't "exemplary" enough for me to think I, well, deserve to be on a team. But when a couple of short jams were being held by a friend, and teams were being made filled with other friends, I thought maybe I could help, even if it's just to QA/playtest. But I've walked away from each of these experiences learning so much from other talented people and with very dear friends.

Each of these side games truly tested my chops in terms of writing, narrative design, and coding. But I'm glad I challenged myself to take part in each of these experiences because I've walked away with so much more than I would've expected.

Alaris

My Heart. My Soul. And at times, My Worst Enemy.

As much as I may have talked about how I Wasn't making progress on this baby. I, in fact, made A LOT of progress:

Art: 15 CGs, Updated Sprites, Kickstarter Artwork

Commissions: 20 BGs, Complete GUI, Personality/Affection Indicators, Editing, Voice Acted Lines, Complete OST (8 Tracks!)

Writing: Three Finished Routes

Shipped Kickstarter Merchandise

I'm going to be Real with you all. I'm not in the mood to recap everything for Alaris in the way I did with everything else LAFKMSDFOIJWOEI. Main reason being, I do that Every Month, and at this point, I would feel like I'm repeating myself for no reason. But let me tell you, when the Enhanced Demo comes out, you will see what I'm talking about with progress made. And I'm excited for the next year when I start getting to show things off (read: Demo Release and Route Beta Releases) now that assets have really come together ^^

I will say, thank you for sticking with this project for so long. It's easy to get bogged down in development when a project like this is as big as it is. It's just as easy to think that no one will care about this by the time I release, or people will start losing their patience with me as development goes on. So I'm forever grateful for how kind, supportive, and patient you all are, especially this year <3

Connections: The True Theme of 2023

If you've made it this far, I'm extremely impressed with you. And to reward you, I'll give you a moment of honesty and vulnerability which, to be frank, I Don't Do as a person and especially with my dev persona LMFAOO ((Before I do, let it be known, CW: mention of death, grief, alcoholism, chronic illness, suicidal thoughts))

Something I don't talk about much is that for all of 2022 and most of 2023, I was not in a good place mentally. At the beginning of 2022, I lost three very important people in my life back-to-back (I'm not exaggerating when I say back-to-back it was within 2 weeks, three separate deaths lol). That, on its own, was hard to deal with. But on top of that, I soon found myself having to cope/help with a family member's chronic illness and another family member's mental health (read: alcoholism, suicidality).

While this isn't a particularly unique situation, it was one that I found myself struggling with pretty severely on top of a pretty demanding work life. And it was a situation I found myself in until about midway through this year. Things have lightened up. I navigate a new life with some pretty severe triggers, and without the presence of some of my most loved ones. But overall, I at least feel like I can breathe and function, which is a state I didn't feel like I could exist in for over a year (and started to believe I may never exist in again).

Because of this new room in my life, I was able to connect with people again, in a more genuine way. I've grown closer to a lot of dev friends, to the point I consider some of them genuine close friends. And IRL, I've been able to reconnect with some of my dearest loved ones. The main reason I bring all of this up is because this year, I felt unbelievably connected to people, whether that was dev friends in the community, people who support my games, and IRL people.

And sometimes, when you interact with people solely online, it's easy to think they don't care as much about you as you do for them. But this has been disproven to me time and time again this year. And I've found myself in a state of appreciation for so many of the people I've been blessed to meet and befriend <3 I felt this especially so during some of the game jams, with the Secret Santa gift exchange, and with my recent Holiday Tree.

So thank you for everyone who has let me take up some space in their life. You literally Do Not Know how much it means to me and impacts me. This year, while I started it in a state of slightly hopelessness and numbness, I find myself ending it with gratitude and connection.

I hope the rest of this year (the very few couple of days we have left LOL) treats everyone well. I'm excited for how we get to start 2024 and what we'll get to experience together <3 Thank you again for the memories and support, love you all very dearly ^^

#crescence cries